A/N: For those of you who are familiar with my other stories, "Touch and Go" takes place between the previous chapter and this one. I didn't include it in the main storyline, because it's not plot-centric, but it is a cute little romp if you're in the mood for more of this particular universe!
Originally, Washington D.C. showed every sign of being a relaxing, educational destination. After parking the TARDIS in the Smithsonian Museum's storage warehouse ("for security reasons", the Doctor explained), the Ponds set out to explore the sights. The Doctor and Rose took longer to leave the museum, as he couldn't pass a display without praising the thorough scientific reasoning of a technologically inferior species or launching into a frustrated lecture on historical inaccuracy. In both cases, he had a field day with their exploration and had to be calmed down several times by Rose. Not that he minded. Each time, her touch on his arm reminded him that she was there, that she existed. Not only for the brief, flash-in-the-pan of a human lifetime, but in a form where they could savor their travels, spend years on a planet if they felt like it, then run off in the dead of night for no reason other than the spontaneous call to adventure.
The Ponds were another story - they'd joined a tour group outside the museum quite by accident, and Rose and the Doctor didn't see them again until they arrived at the Lincoln Memorial. The Doctor was sonicing the statue for some unknown reason while Rose admired the grounds.
"…great big bearded bloke in an armchair," Amy heard Rose say as they approached.
While Rory went over to the statue of Lincoln to check the base for cracks or graffiti, Amy wandered up to Rose. "Sixteenth president of the United States," she said by way of breaking the ice. "Wrote the Emancipation Proclamation. Had a massive mole and an odd fondness for top hats. Used to be a prairie lawyer."
"Sounds like you've spent a lot of time with the Doctor," Rose teased amicably.
Amy pulled her jacket tighter against the breeze. "My best mate moved to America when I was six. I decided to run away to her house when my aunt said we were leaving Scotland. The only book we had about the States was a biography of Lincoln. I bet I read it a dozen times. That, and he was our prairie lawyer about a month ago, right before you showed up."
Rose laughed, surprised. "You're serious, you met Lincoln? What was he like?"
"Really really tall," Amy affirmed.
While Amy continued to spill her surprising knowledge of Honest Abe and nineteenth century American politics, the Doctor took notice of Rory's strange perusal. "Rory," he asked amused, lowering his sonic screwdriver, "what are you doing?"
"Dunno," Rory replied with a shrug. "It looked like you were checking for something, so I thought I'd lend a hand." Rory looked up at the statue's face, and his eyes watered as the lighting made him squint. He let his vision trail back down the statue proper and noticed Lincoln's feet were uneven. "Sort of looks like he's trying to stand up, doesn't it? Weird."
The Doctor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, puffing out his cheeks. "That's what worried me at first. But I helped Dan draw up the plans myself, and the Piccirilli's took the job very seriously." He pocketed his screwdriver and ran a hand over his cheek. "Still, I pop back and check every once in a while to be sure. Never can be too careful."
Rory followed none of this, so he gave the Doctor an encouraging smile and nod before wandering over to where Amy and Rose were still talking.
Amy had slowly drifted from interesting facts about the surrounding buildings to trivia involving American cuisine, and Rory joined in with great interest. Rose called to the Doctor, distracting him from his examination. "I think the humans are hungry, Doctor. I wouldn't say no to a bite, either."
"There's a lovely restaurant in the Penn Quarter about half a mile down, 701." The Doctor said as he approached the group. "It'll be quicker walking than going back to the museum, actually."
"Seven hundred and one what?" Rose asked, pushing her fringe out of her eyes. The day was warm, but windy, and she fought with the blonde strands that threatened to impede her vision.
"That's its name – 701."
"Odd thing to call a restaurant."
"I had good reason at the time." The Doctor motioned them to a building slightly north of the National Archives and offered his arm to Rose, which she took. "That's how old I was when I opened it. Didn't stay too long, though. The toque made me go bald. I do hope they still have the jazz band."
Out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw Amy look over to Rory and mouth the words 'jazz band?' to which he shrugged. "I'm just not surprised anymore," he answered aloud.
Their half-mile trek took a surprisingly short amount of time, considering the crowds of tourists on the sidewalks. "Are we going to the underground?" Amy asked the Doctor.
"'Metro'," he corrected her. "Yes and no." As they approached the station, the Doctor waved them towards a staircase that took them up instead of down, and they found themselves in a well-lit restaurant. Sure enough, live music could be heard from the back of the room.
The Doctor flashed his psychic paper sycophantically at the host behind the reception podium. "Reservation for four, if you please."
The thin-haired man in front of them glanced at an open leather-bound folder, then back at the psychic paper. He repeated this action twice, before the Doctor asked, "Problem?"
"Not at all, Count," he assured them with a slight bow. "Just some improper bookkeeping on the part of some of the lower staff." He sniffed derisively. "I'll see it's taken care of. Would you like a seat on the patio?"
The Doctor looked to Rose, who smiled, and he nodded at the gentleman. "Come along Ponds," he added over his shoulder, "and be sure you try the gnocchi, it was a specialty of mine."
The view from the patio was picturesque. Tourists of every nationality wandered by, and the TARDIS translated their chatter, offering the group some fascinating entertainment. Halfway through their entrées, an amazingly ugly foreign couple walked by, holding a very private personal discussion. The mental images spawning from this graphic conversation caused an abrupt lack of appetite, and an uncomfortable quiet fell over the table. The Doctor pushed his plate away in disgust while Amy, blushing, picked at a napkin. Rory's face was skewed with concentration for a few seconds before his eyes widened in comprehension. He quickly began admiring the view in the opposite direction of the couple that had just passed them by.
Rose chewed her bottom lip for a couple of seconds and her eyes fell on the building across the way. She broke the silence. "What say we skip dessert and head next door to the Archives?"
"Done."
"Sold."
"Hear, hear." A chorus of agreement rang out from around the table as everyone hurriedly got to their feet. The waiter assured them that the bill would be taken care of by the embassy, and they left the restaurant at a fast walk.
The National Archives Building housed several dusty old pieces of paper that sent the Doctor into a dizzying frenzy of speech, telling old stories about everyone from Thomas Jefferson to Benjamin Franklin (who apparently had alien ancestry on his mother's side). He was reminiscing about drafting the Declaration of Independence as they approached that particular document.
"…and then, if you'd believe, we ran out of ink and had to go wake Mr. Jacobson so he could open the corner store and sell some to us. He wasn't pleased, but we did pay him extra."
"Couldn't you have gotten some from the TARDIS?" Amy wondered aloud.
The Doctor shook his head. "Not that wouldn't glow-in-the-dark or vanish after two hundred years. The nineteen seventies already had their fair share of problems, and chemiluminescence was ages away from being perfected," he explained.
Rose was squinting at the Declaration through a glass pane. "'Unalienable rights'? Really?"
The Doctor spun to face her, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. "Well, I had to cover all the bases."
"Why's the next bit all fuzzy?" She checked the glass for smudges, but saw no offending fingerprints that might distort the words.
"Fuzzy?"
"I can sort of read it, because I know what it says, but it looks blurred or something."
"Hmm…" The Doctor took in a lungful of air, held it for a few seconds, and exhaled slowly through his nose. "Perception filter." His hand dove into his inside pocket and came up bare. He wiggled his fingers in front of his face as though confused as to why they were empty. "Rory, where's my screwdriver?"
"I gave it to Amy after that problem in the men's room."
Amy pointed over her shoulder at the entrance. "I handed it to you when we walked in. You fixed my shoe, remember?"
"Then where…" the Doctor continued to pat at his pockets, but stopped when he heard a recognizable trilling noise. The three of them looked over to see Rose leaning over the velvet ropes, shining the light of the screwdriver onto the Declaration and grinning.
She tossed the sonic over to the Doctor when she noticed him looking. "Might want to read that," she suggested coyly.
"Hmph," was all the Doctor said. Rose didn't notice; she was too busy whispering to Amy, who started to snicker. He read aloud as he scanned, rather more loudly that he normally would have. "Endowed…. Unalienable rights…" (he allowed himself a self-satisfied grin) "That among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of 'Hello, Sweetie…'" He lowered the screwdriver, speechless with disbelief. Amy and Rose broke into a fresh fit of giggles, but Rory, at least, looked concerned. "Did she have to use something of mine?"
"What's yours?" Rory asked.
"That 'pursuit of happiness' bit." The Doctor tossed the sonic back to Rose, who caught it with the ease of practice, and continued his pout. "Quite inspirational, really."
"She knew you'd see it," Amy said knowingly. "That's how he keeps score." She added in an over-loud whisper to Rose.
Rose nodded, "Ahh, I see. Well, are we going?"
"Going where?"
She tossed the screwdriver back to the Doctor. "Well, you've got to read it first."
The Doctor sighed. He gave all outward appearances of annoyance, but was secretly enjoying their banter. He resumed his reading position and recited:
Hello Sweetie,
I've discovered the reason behind the imprisonment. I won't lie, we've got our hands full. Meet me at the listed coordinates, and, if you could, have the kettle on, as I haven't been properly warm in ages. Bring the Doctor, too, if you must. He does get terribly lonely without you. Give my best to Mum and Dad.
River Song
ΔΘ%/11'.Q
The Doctor flipped his sonic screwdriver into the air, caught it, and stuffed it back into his pocket with a flourish. He turned to leave, reaching out a hand for Rose's on his way out. As she took it, she heard him mumble to himself, "Trouble…"