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They left the daycare center in good spirits, discussing their new employment excitedly. The Doctor couldn't believe their luck. It was amazing that they'd both managed to score dream jobs on the very first day. Maybe this slow life business wouldn't be too bad.
There was a small café about a block away from the apartment, and they stopped there for a quick dinner. It was a very simple establishment with just a few tables and a limited menu. The food, however, was not lacking and it was very thoroughly enjoyed.
On the way home, Rose chattered on, talking about everything she had seen and heard that day. As they neared their rental, his nose picked up that bitter scent once again. He stopped dead in his tracks.
"What's wrong?" Rose asked, concerned.
He patted his pockets. "I left something at the café. You go on ahead. I'll just run back and then come home. I won't be but a few minutes."
"Okay. I'll find you some blankets for the sofa. See you at home, Doctor!" With that, she continued on home.
Once she was out of sight, he began to rely solely on his sense of smell. He tracked the source of the bitter agent like a hound dog, finally catching up to it a few houses down. The trail ended at the front door of a small townhouse with a bright blue door. A wicked smile crossed his face as he realized it was almost the same color as the TARDIS. He moved to the side of the house to look in the window and saw one of the men from they alley earlier that day.
He was pacing up and down the hallway, angry about something. A door opened and the other man entered the hallway. He gestured to a bench and they both sat down. The second man produced a small vial of clear liquid, a piece of rubber tubing, and a hypodermic needle. The first man quickly wrapped the tubing around his lower bicep as the second man filled the injector with the liquid from the vial. As the needle slipped into his veins, the first man's eyes rolled back in his head before his eyes closed.
The Time Lord's superior biology allowed him to hear every sound, from the drug entering the veins to the man's small moan of pleasure. His mouth watered again and he clung to the window frame, desperately trying to hold back a moan of his own. He must not have succeeded, because the second man's head turned toward the window slowly, and he locked eyes with the Doctor.
He bolted, then. His hearts were pounding so loud he was sure that the man would be able to follow the sound to him. He reached their apartment and paused outside to catch his breath. If Rose saw him as he was at that moment, she would know something was wrong, and he couldn't tell her. She could not know about his past.
After he had composed himself, he unlocked the door and let himself in. Rose was curled up on the sofa, watching television.
"Hello, Doctor!" She smiled and patted the cushion next to her.
He sat down. "So, what's on the telly tonight?"
"Well, I've been flipping through, and I can't seem to make sense of any of them. There's one I've had on more than the others. It's about a man called 'Dexter' who is a serial killer of criminals. It's quite odd." She turned that particular show on and set the remote down. He stretched his arm across the back of the sofa and rested his hand on Rose's shoulder. She leaned into him and sighed happily.
They watched together for about an hour before Rose clicked off the television and stood.
"So, I was thinking," she began, "that it's not quite fair for you to have to sleep on the sofa. We are both adults, not horny teenagers. I think we can share a bed and not have it amount to anything."
"Thank you, Rose. That sofa is uncomfortable enough to sit on. I can't imagine how my back would feel in the morning."
"So, you're going to sleep tonight, then?"
He nodded, suddenly feeling just how tired he was. "I start work tomorrow. It would probably be in my best interest."
He followed her into the bedroom and noticed that she had set his suitcase down on the left side of the bed. Was it a coincidence or did she somehow know that he slept on the left side? Shaking his head, he opened his mouth to begin the inevitable and awkward sentence.
"Rose, I don't wear pyjamas."
She glanced over from her dresser, where she was attempting to find her own sleepwear. After going through all the drawers, she finally found a pair of plain sweatpants and a tank top.
"That's alright, Doctor. Just keep your hands to yourself," she told him teasingly.
The Doctor waited until she disappeared into the bathroom before stripping down to his pants and sliding under the covers. He may sleep in next to nothing, but that didn't mean that Rose had to see it. As he lay in bed alone, listening to her clang around in the bathroom, his thoughts turned to the two men down the street.
He assumed that one of them was a dealer and the other was a user. The first had to be the user, he thought, and the second was the dealer. The user was a large man with a potbelly and a balding head. His clothes looked just a bit too tight, making him look sloppy and much bigger than he really way. The dealer, on the other hand, was a slim, tall man. He seemed to always be wearing dark clothing, but looked impeccably groomed. His dark hair was perfectly trimmed and even his facial hair looked professionally groomed. 'An odd pair,' he thought.
The door opened and Rose came into the bedroom, dressed in her pyjamas. She put her clothes from the day into her suitcase and got into bed beside the pondering Time Lord.
She smiled in the darkness. "See Doctor? This isn't so bad. We've both gotten wonderful jobs, the apartment suits us just fine, and the food here doesn't seem too bad. I think we will be okay here."
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "Go to sleep."
He felt her relax and drift off to sleep. He rolled over on his side and stared at the doorway. He wondered if the dealer would come looking for him. If he did, the Doctor didn't want to be caught off guard. Slowly, without realizing it, his eyes closed and he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
If he had looked just a few feet to the right, he would have seen the bedroom window. If he had looked out of the window, he would have seen the bushes below the sill rustle. If he had looked in the rustling bushes, he would have seen a pair of piercing gray eyes looking up at him.
The dealer was watching, and he was not pleased.
