The bright blue of the TARDIS screamed incongruity amid the clinical white walls and anaemic marble of the sculpture room. However, the Doctor, still dressed in his Roman tunic, and Peter, still dressed as a centurion, blended in with the exhibits in a way no other visitors did – yet they were the ones who got strange looks from the camera-laden tourists in sloganed T-shirts and the dusty academics wearing tweed jackets.
As far as the Doctor and Peter were concerned, though, these people didn't exist – even the kids prodding at the TARDIS, assuming it to be some sort of interactive display, got barely a glance. They were men on a mission and they were not going to be distracted. But when they reached Rose's statue, something distracted him. Perched on the big toe of the nearby giant foot – in blatant disregard of the signs forbidding anyone to touch the exhibits – was a familiar figure. Mickey Smith.
"Doctor! Peter!" Mickey said as they approached. He looked over the Doctor's shoulder – but Rose was not there. The Doctor slowed his frantic pace.
"Hello," He replied. "So. . . is this before or after the last time?" Mickey shrugged.
"How do I know what the last time is for you? Last time for me was a fortnight ago, when you, Peter and Rose went off to make her the toast of the art world." The Doctor and Peter winced. "And I guess you got there all right," Mickey continued looking them up and down, "or is Roman attire in this season?" They ignored him, concentrating on the statue before them. Rose's youthful beauty captured for ever. Even petrified, the strength shone out of her face. No one could look at this and not realise what a special person she was. The Doctor unconsciously reached out a hand to hold hers. But of course, it wasn't there.
Suddenly, a wave of doubt threatened to overcome him.
Mickey had got up and was standing beside them. "You know, who-ever made this must have really known her," He said. "It's like. . . like they really understood her." He paused, then had a sudden thought. "Hey, she wasn't, you know, seeing this fella or anything, was she?" The Doctor laughed harshly – inhumanly – and Mickey took a step back. "Whoa! Didn't mean to step on your toes, man."
This isn't a statue of Rose," The Doctor said. Mickey looked confused.
"What're you talking about? Course it is. Think I don't know Rose when I see her?" The Doctor hesitated in delivering the news so Peter reluctantly took over.
"No, you don't," He said "Because you're looking at her right now. This isn't a statue of Rose. This is Rose herself. Rose has been turned into stone." Mickey had sat back down on the foot and was cradling his head in his hands. "It's not true," He was saying, the words high and muffled, his body heaving with the sobs that he was trying to suppress, trying to hide. A uniformed official approached them.
"Excuse me, sir," He said to Mickey, seemingly oblivious of the tears, Peter crouched in front of him, trying console him. "I'm afraid I must ask you not to sit on the exhibits." Mickey ignored him; probably didn't even hear him.
"He's a bit upset right now," The Doctor pointed out. The man was unmoved.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot make an exception." The Doctor stepped closer and prodded him.
"Sorry, just checking if you were really human. Because a real human would see just how upset my. . . friend is and show a bit of compassion." The guard ignored the Doctor's anger. Probably used to that sort of thing, even in as refined a place as a museum. He spoke so reasonably that the Doctor, not in the best of moods just at the moment, felt his ire rise even higher.
"We have a duty to protect these items. They wouldn't have lasted for countless generations if everyone had been allowed to go around sitting on them, would they?" The Doctor was about to launch into a number of counter-arguments involving past uses of stone works – as well as uses that had just come to him and in which the guard could possibly take part – all of which would probably have had the man doubting his sanity, when Mickey pushed himself to his feet, Peter having to jump out of his way.
He shoved his face towards that of the security guard. "I don't care about your stupid statues or your stupid duty!" He shouted. Everyone else in the room turned to stare. One tourist took a photo. "She's dead! Don't you understand? She's dead! I've been coming here every day, every single stupid day, just to feel I was close to her –to keep me going until I saw her again. But I didn't know. . . now I'm not going to see her again, not ever!"
"I'm sorry, sir, but –" Peter stepped in before the situation got any worse.
"As my friend told you, he's a bit upset right now," He said harshly, and took Mickey by the arm. Silent tears still coursed down Mickey's cheeks as the Doctor and Peter led him out of the room and up the stairs; he looked dazed and angry.
Peter sat him down at a table in the Great Court as the Doctor went off to a nearby counter. He returned with three plastic cups of blackcurrant cordial and placed one in front of Mickey, sticking a straw in the top. They sat silently for a few minutes. Neither one of them was really there any more; they were in the past, with Rose. Talking to her. Laughing with her. Just looking at her face.
"She was always too good for me," Mickey said suddenly. "Didn't deserve her, I didn't. There was this time I had the flu – she looked after me, every day. I felt like I wanted to die, then she'd hold my hand and I'd remember how good life could be." He almost smiled. "I thought I was the luckiest man alive to get her. We were only kids, but I knew she was special. Kept thinking she'd leave me. And she did, once.
Came back, though. Thought she was on the rebound, that she'd see sense after a week or two. But she didn't. Never thought I'd hang on to her a second time second time. Knew there was something better out there and she'd realise it in the end. I just had to make the most of every day I got. I mean, I was angry when she went off with you. Angry with you, but angry with her too, angry that she'd seen through me at last. Realised I was a loser and she was a winner. But I didn't mind, not in the end. Because she deserved more than me. She deserved someone who could give her the whole universe." The sorrow in his voice turned to anger. "But you got her killed." He spat at the Doctor.
"I know," He said, and it was as if he hated himself.
"You got her killed and I'll never see her again! She thought she wanted danger and excitement – but you could have stopped her! She wasn't a – a Time Lord, she was just an ordinary girl and you got her killed."
"Rose wasn't 'ordinary',' Said the Doctor. He stopped sounding angry at himself, directed it at Mickey instead. "What was I supposed to do? Wrap her in cotton wool? Tell her, 'Here, I could give you the universe, but I'm not going to in case you get hurt? There's all this stuff out there, all these planets, all these wonders, but I want you to stay at home and work in a shop?'" Mickey stood up and yelled,
"You should have taken better care of her!" The Doctor shouted back,
I know!" Mickey sat back down.
"You should've," He repeated quietly. His anger then deflected his anger to Peter. "Where were you in all this?" It was a clear accusation and Peter's eyes flared up silver in defence.
"Getting stabbed and nearly bleeding to death" He growled. Mickey backed down and looked ashamed. He suddenly shivered.
"How'm I gonna tell her mum? She'll crucify me."
"I think you mean me," Said the Doctor. He gave a half-laugh. "Funnily enough, we were almost crucified this morning. Luckily, they threw us to the lions instead." Mickey concentrated on the first bit, too wrapped up in what was happening right now to care in the slightest about the Doctor's adventures. "Like you'll stick around. And Jackie'll have to take it out on someone. She ain't got anyone else any more." His face crumpled. "She won't even have a grave!" The Doctor was was quiet for a few minutes, letting Mickey's tears run their course. Then he said, almost hesitantly,
"I can bring her back." Mickey looked up, astonished.
"You what?"
"You can't, the statue's arm..." Peter began to say, realising his plan.
"But it will bring her back" The Doctor spoke again, more assured this time. Mickey jumped to his feet, almost more angry than before.
"You. . . you can? Well, why didn't you say so before? Was this fun for you, seeing me like this? Mickey the idiot, doesn't understand this stuff, let's have a laugh with him?" He looked as though he was about to punch both of them. The Doctor stepped in quickly.
"I. . . wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do." He waved a hand, silencing Mickey's next protest. "But now I am. So isn't the fact that I can do it the most important thing here?" Mickey seemed about to argue – but then he nodded. "Yeah. Right. Well, what are we waiting for, then?" He started walking.
"For that guard to go away for a start," The Doctor called after him. Mickey stumped back and sat down again. They were all silent for a few moments. The Doctor took a long swig of black currant cordial.
Then Mickey said, a bit nervously,
"But. . . won't she be, like, 2,000 years old or something?"
"Closer to 1,900, give or take the odd change of calendar," The Doctor replied. "That shouldn't. . . that won't matter. She's not aware in there. She hasn't aged."
"Are you sure she's not aware?" Asked Mickey. "Are you sure she hasn't been watching everything that's going on?" Peter raised an eyebrow.
"Well, if she has, she'll have seen you every day for the last fortnight. That should earn you Brownie points." He'd meant it almost – almost – kindly, but Mickey looked like a puppy that had been kicked. He sighed. "Come on," He said, standing up with the Doctor. "Let's see if the coast is clear." But Mickey remained seated.
"Rose might not have aged – not the Rose inside. But that statue has. It's got chips out of it. Its hand's got knocked off. Will that come back when you bring her to life again?" He was echoing Peter's earlier worry. The Doctor didn't answer.
"It won't, will it?" Mickey said, furious. "It won't grow back magically like yours did. You're going to bring her back with chips off and a hand missing!" The Doctor thumped the table.
"It's better than no Rose at all!" He shouted. Both Mickey and Peter looked a bit scared. But after a few seconds, they nodded.
"Yeah," Mickey said. "I guess it is."
As they made their way back to the sculpture room, Peter heard Mickey mutter, "I just hope she agrees."
It was the end of the day and people were beginning to drift out of the museum. There were a couple of tourists wandering past the rows of stone heads in the sculpture room, but no one else was near Rose.
The Doctor held up the small phial with its few drops of precious, life-giving liquid. Hand steady, he took a deep breath. And then his hand turned and the potion poured on to the statue.
Nothing happened. No blush of flesh to the cheeks. No ripple of cloth or flutter of eyelashes. The Doctor and Peter just stared. "How long's it take to work, then?" Mickey asked.
"It's not going to work," Said the Doctor dully. "It's too late. She must have been stone too long." He paused. "It's over." Mickey wouldn't accept it.
"That's rubbish. You've got a time machine. Oh, I know all that laws of time stuff, you can't stop it happening, but you can find her earlier. Change her back then. The Doctor shook his head, frustrated and angry.
"Don't you see? If I changed her back then, then this –" He gestured at the statue – wouldn't be here now! That's why we couldn't find her back in Rome. We were never meant to find her! There's nothing I can do!" He flung out his arm, hand brushing against Rose's face. He looked again at the statue. And he went mad. Peter and Mickey watched in alarm as the Doctor ran to the TARDIS, yelling,
"Oh, please! Oh, please!" At the top of his voice. A moment later he emerged from the ship, carrying Rose's denim jacket. The Doctor held it up and shook it. Out fell a purse, a hankie, a packet of mints, a mobile phone and an earring. He retrieved the earring and held it up to the statue.
"It's the same one," Said Peter.
"She forgot to put it back on," Said the Doctor.
"So Rose – the real Rose – is only wearing one earring. But the statue has two. That means this. . ." He let it sink in. "This isn't Rose. This is just – a statue." He pulled himself together but failed as an old observation he'd dismissed rose up. "Oh!" He cried, turning to Peter. Grabbing his startled companion by the sides of his head he leaned in close. "You said it before, in the workshop, Rose's position." Peter thought for a moment, glancing over at the statue to confirm what he was thinking.
"She wasn't in the same position as that is," He eventually said.
"Wearing a helmet and holding a spear instead of a horn?" The Doctor checked. Peter nodded.
"We were looking for the wrong statue" He chuckled.
"We've got to go back and find her." The Doctor said as he released his hands off Peter's face and stared at the glass phial. There was the tiniest hint of liquid still in the bottom. "This had better be enough. . . "
Mickey's face was shining with relief. But a thought struck him.
"Hang on, though. How did this statue get to be here, then?" The Doctor grinned.
"I've got an idea about that. Do you believe in gods?" Mickey and Peter looked bewildered.
"No." Mickey answered.
"Well, right at this moment I do," said the Doctor. "I think Fortuna here is smiling on us. Come on. I need a hand here. . ." They'd just finished when the security guard came rushing back in.
"Time for a quick getaway, I think," Said the Doctor. He and Peter pushed Mickey towards the stairs and then dashed for the TARDIS.
"You will get her back, won't you?" Mickey yelled.
"You can bet on it!" Cried the Doctor. But as he shut the TARDIS doors behind them, he muttered to Peter, "We've just got to make a quick stop on the way. . ." And then, some time later, they arrived in Rome some time earlier.