Bucharest, Romania
Autumn 1939
Anna Skarbek cuddled luxuriously into the feather bed and pillows. The hotel bed was pure heaven, after days of sleeping on the benches of the railway carriage.
"Enjoy it while you can," Jean-Francois Mercier murmured into her hair, his hands lazily stroking over her shoulders. "As soon as they get us a new locomotive, we're off again."
Anna was silent for so long, he thought she'd drifted off. "I miss my mother," she said quietly.
"I know," Jean-Francois replied, tightening his arms around her.
"I don't think she would have survived this trip."
"I would have made it work," he promised her.
"I know," Anna agreed, lacing her fingers through his. "Do you think she'll be safe?"
He sighed in the darkness. "She's an old woman, in a convalescent hospital, in the country. There's nothing of any strategic value to make the place a target, and there are rules among civilized men concerning such things. I think she's as safe as anyone can be, right now."
Anna bit her lip, knowing this was not the moment to comment on the predilections of uncivilized men, such as they'd encountered on the other side of the border. Her mother was as safe and comfortable as could be expected right now, and she would simply have to hang on to that.
Rose Tyler stared with wide eyes at the centuries-old stone buildings, capped with graceful domes. The Doctor stared with wide eyes at his lovely companion, garbed in a suitably modest dress of sea-green silk, trimmed with bits of wispy lace. An intricately woven shawl was draped over her shoulders. He'd bought it for her when the breeze proved to be a trifle sharp.
"S'beautiful," Rose breathed.
"It certainly is," the Doctor agreed.
"Where are we, exactly?" Rose wanted to know, linking both arms through his.
"Bucharest, Romania. 1939." He made a show of licking one finger and holding it up to catch the breeze. "Autumn."
"Bucharest, 1939. So, no vampires?" Rose teased.
"I'd have thought werewolves in Scotland were quite enough, thank you very much."
"Wait a minute - 1939 - what about the war?"
"It's started already, to the west, in Poland."
"But not here?"
"Not yet. The king has adopted a policy of neutrality. Right now, this is a world holding its breath."
"I don't understand this neutrality rubbish. I mean, they tried it in England, too, didn't they?" Rose asked.
"They did, indeed."
"But why? How could people just want to stand by when there was something so…evil going on?"
The Doctor smiled at her affectionately. "You have the perspective of someone who was born long after it was all over," he reminded her. "It's only been twenty years for them since the last war. People remember it very clearly and they don't want to go through all that again, not if there's any way 'round it."
Anna wrinkled her nose as she dressed in the same clothes she'd been wearing since Poland. She'd washed her underthings in the sink last night, but still… "How long do you think it will be, before we leave?"
"Hopefully no more than a few hours," Jean-Francois replied.
"I'm going out to buy some clothes."
"No. We may have to leave on very short notice, and in case you've forgotten, this isn't a pleasure tour."
"I'm not talking about ordering a trousseau," Anna insisted stubbornly, "just getting a change of clean clothing."
"All right, but be as quick as you can."
"I will," she agreed, stretching up on her toes to kiss him quickly.
"You can order your trousseau in Paris!" he promised.
"I'll hold you to that!" Anna said merrily from the doorway.
Two men observed the couple walking arm in arm down the street from their vantage point in a parked vehicle.
"You're sure that's Mercier?" the driver asked, eyeing the man's odd clothing and unkempt hair.
"Yes. I've seen him before," the passenger replied.
"We could just shoot him," the driver suggested.
"Yes, because a corpse will be able to tell us all the details of his mission!"
"I've heard that Mercier is a hard man. What makes you think we'll get any information out of him?"
The man in the backseat smirked evilly. "A man in Mercier's profession should never take a lover…it makes him vulnerable."
Anna hurried back to the hotel, carrying a small parcel of basic clothing items. A laughing couple on the other side of the street caught her attention. The woman smiled adoringly at her companion, a man who looked startlingly like Jean-Francois. As Anna watched, a car rolled up alongside of them, and two men got out. One cracked the man in the long brown coat across the back of the head with the butt of his pistol, while the other shoved the fiercely struggling young woman into the boot of the car. They sped off, leaving the man slumped on the pavement.
Anna pressed back against the storefront, horrified. She knew this was exactly the reason why Jean-Francois hadn't wanted her to leave their hotel room. She knew - absolutely knew - that the best and safest thing for her to do was to return to the hotel immediately and tell Jean-Francois what she'd seen. Only…the man looked so much like him. She crossed the street.
The Doctor groaned as he tried to push himself upright. Even a Time Lord's physiology wasn't proof against being smashed across the back of the skull with a chunk of steel. He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to focus his vision. A puddle of blue-green swam before his eyes - Rose's shawl, dropped on the pavement. He reached for it, and staggered forward, losing his balance.
Strong arms steadied him, before he could fall forward. "Rose…" he moaned.
"No, my name is Anna," his savior informed him.
The Doctor blinked rapidly, trying to focus his gaze on the young woman who was holding him upright. She was lovely, he noted absently, with porcelain skin and dark hair that waved softly around her face.
"Good God!" she breathed. "You really do look just like him!"
"Like who?"
"My fiancé."
Jean-Francois paced the hotel room irritably. He should never have allowed her out of his sight. The stakes were simply too high. What if they'd been followed somehow? What if Anna was recognized? He'd just about worked himself up to the point of going out to look for her when there was a soft tap at the door, and Anna's voice calling his name.
He opened the door, and in the blink of an eye, the act of pulling Anna into his arms shifted into him pushing her behind him and leveling his sidearm at the man in the doorway.
"Who the hell are you, sir?"
"I'm called the Doctor."
"Doctor who?"
The Doctor sighed resignedly. "Just the Doctor. And would you mind pointing that thing somewhere else?"
"Anna, what were you thinking?" Jean-Francois hissed, his aim never wavering. "Who is this man, and how could you bring him here?"
"Look at him," she replied.
"I am looking. Who are you?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, which I'm not particularly inclined to do while you're pointing a gun at me." The Doctor stared at his doppelganger, who showed no sign of backing down. "All right. Fine," he capitulated. "I was strolling down the street with someone very dear to me, when two distinctly unpleasant men pulled up beside up us, hit me over the head and made off with my companion. Now, if you know anything at all that can help me get her back - fine. If not, I'll be on my way."
"Jean-Francois," Anna said urgently, "I think they thought he was you."
"And that his friend was you," he concluded. He cursed himself for a weak-minded fool. He should have insisted that they sleep in the railway carriage. He should never have let Anna out of his sight.
The Doctor drummed his fingers against the doorframe. "All right. You have no idea who I am, so you don't realize just how very calm and patient I'm being right now, but my patience is about at an end. If you know anything - anything at all - about who those men are, and where they might have taken Rose Tyler, then you tell me, right now. Otherwise, get out of my way."
"I think you forget, sir, which of us is holding the gun," Jean-Francois reminded him.
The Doctor slowly drew himself up to his full height, and all traces of mirth seemed to drain from his countenance. "D'you really think I give a damn about your gun?"
Anna's fingers dug into Jean-Francois's shoulder. He shrugged her off impatiently, not breaking eye contact with the Doctor.
"Anna, get back."
"We have to help him!"
"We'll do no such thing. We can't, Anna. You know that."
"They took an innocent girl because they thought she was me."
"And I am very sorry, but what we're doing is too important. We can't risk it. Not for anything or anyone. I'm sorry," he repeated.
The Doctor eyed him coolly. "You're French, in Romania, the war is just days old, you're armed, and you're on the run from something. At this moment in history, people are either running from the Nazis or the Russians, and neither has a very savory reputation, so I don't fancy the idea of my friend being in their hands a single nanosecond, so you are going to tell me anything at all that might possibly help me get her back!"
Abruptly making a decision, Jean-Francois grabbed the Doctor's arm and yanked him inside the room, shutting the door. "This is not a discussion for a public corridor."
"Agreed."
Anna eyed both men curiously. "He could be your twin brother."
"Perhaps. If he were dressed decently and visited a barber."
"Oi! I'll have you know, Janis Joplin gave me this coat! 'Course, she hasn't been born yet…"
Jean-Francois looked sharply at Anna, who shrugged and said, "They did hit him on the head."
"Perhaps a cool cloth?" Jean-Francois suggested.
"Of course," Anna replied, heading for the loo. She returned a moment later with a washrag wrung out in cold water.
The Doctor accepted it with a grateful smile, hissing as it touched the lump on the back of his head. "Let's try this again, shall we? I'm the Doctor. Some very bad people have taken my friend. You're going to help me get her back."
"Jean-Francois Mercier. I'm sorry about your friend, but I simply don't know who took her, and I have no time or resources to spare to help you look. I'm truly sorry."
Anna stared from one man to the other, then took her fiancé's hand. "What if it was me? It could have been."
"Anna. I -" His voice trailed off as duty and compassion warred within him.
The Doctor looked at the other man, empathy filling his ancient eyes. "It's moments like this, when you think how much easier it would be, if you never let anyone inside your heart."
Jean-Francois nodded slowly. He lifted Anna's hand to his lips and gently kissed it. "All right. We really don't have any time to spare, but…if they took your friend, believing her to be Anna, that means they want something from me."
"So they'll be in contact with you."
"Sooner, rather than later, I should think."