How one eighteen year old girl could manage to elude him and every avenue of search possible for nearly six full weeks, Mycroft had no idea. Very little was beyond the grasp of Mycroft Holmes, save for the monarchy, crown jewels, and, apparently, Rosenwyn Holmes. Had the circumstances been different, he would have taken pride in her planning and executing such a complete disappearance. It demonstrated great skill and cunning.
As each day slipped by, Mycroft couldn't decide what he would do first when he did find her: spank her soundly for worrying him half to death, or hug her tightly while simultaneously implanting a tracking device in her! Her passport hadn't been used since entering Vienna, there was no activity on her bank card, nothing. She was alive, he was certain of it, but beyond that he was both clueless and helpless.
As Damiano drove his motorbike at breakneck speed, Rose held onto him for dear life, her arms wrapped around his torso, feeling so exhilarated and alive. And, just a tiny bit naughty for not wearing a helmet! It was the first time since cutting her hair that Rose was glad to have her short bob, knowing that if she hadn't, she would have arrived with a mess of tangles and knots in her hair to meet Damiano's family.
The countryside was gorgeous and Rose had never seen anything like it in her life, making the forty minute trip outside Rome well worth the commute to the villa where Damiano's parents lived. Grapes were growing as far as the eye could see, painting the landscape with lush colors. It was a sight she would never forget as long as she lived.
Finally the motorbike sped up a driveway in front of a massive villa. It rivaled Holmes Manor in its splendor and was possibly larger as well. As Rose's eyes captured every detail and committed it to memory, a woman and children of various ages came out to greet them. Before she could even say hello, Rose found herself suddenly in the arms of the woman, who hugged her tightly and spoke Italian almost faster than Rose could keep up with.
"Mama!" Damiano laughed. "Tracy's only just learning Italian. She's not very good yet! Slow down and use English." He bent down a bit to kiss his mother's cheek.
"We are so glad you came," Sophia Baresi told Rose. "Damiano always speaks of you and finally we meet you! Come inside and I will make you coffee. Damiano, be a good gentleman and take her bag up to the guest room. No sharing a bed in my house little love birds!"
Rose's face turned a bright scarlet color at just the thought of sharing Damiano's bed, let alone sharing it in his mother'shouse! Her embarrassment earned her a laugh from Damiano and a hug from Sophia. "No ma'am, of course not," she said softly, almost overcome by embarrassment. She and her brothers just did not speak about such things at home.
"Finally, Damiano brings home a very nice girl," Sophia decided. "Too many fast girls he's had. Time for a very nice girl like you. Come, come! Time for coffee and introductions." Without waiting for Rose to respond, Sophia took her by the hand and began leading her towards the house, pointing out people and rattling out names as they went. "You stay just one night this time, yes? Next time come for a whole weekend. You are too tiny, I think. Come eat at my table, there are no tiny people here. Too much good food to eat to be such a little bird like you!"
It was nothing like she had ever experienced before. In all the noise and chaos that she and Sherlock had created over the years, even with the assistance of Louise, it was nothing compared to this. Rose was squished around a large table with thirty-two other people, everyone laughing and talking at an impossible volume in a mixture of Italian and English. Brothers and sisters; cousins; aunts and uncles, it was a madhouse
She didn't know where to look, who to listen to, let alone who to interact with.
"You look very overwhelmed," Sophia said, reaching over to pat Rose's hand. "Your family is not like this?"
Rose snorted and shook her head. "Good god no!" As soon as the words left her mouth she felt self-conscious. Had she just insulted her hostess? "My parents were academics, brilliant but quiet," she hurriedly added. "Though there was lots of love."
Sophia smiled and nodded. "Ah. And your brothers and sisters? What do they do? How many nieces and nephews do you have?"
A lump rose unbidden in her throat and Rose swallowed several times before she was able to speak. "There's no one else. Just me now," she said softly. The enormity of that, of being alone, hit her hard. Rose was in over her head and that was never more apparent than at that moment. For the first time in weeks she wished that Mycroft was there because somehow he always knew what to do. He might berate her for being an utter moron and wax on about how selfish her disappearance was, but he would know what to do.
"Mama, don't ask such questions," Damiano scolded lightly. "She is recently orphaned."
Sophia's eyes filled with sympathy and it made Rose hate herself. The many lies she told, to people who did not deserve to be lied to. She was, by definition, an orphan since both her parents were dead, but she was not truly orphaned. There was no taking her alias's back story back, however, and it made Rose want to leave all the more.
"Oh, patatina," Sophia murmured, hugging Rose tightly.
Rose couldn't help smiling at the term of endearment, little potato.
"You know what that means?" Damiano asked, seeing her smile.
"No," Rose lied. "But since it's accompanied with a lovely hug I'm assuming it's something quite nice."
Damiano laughed and gave her a dazzling smile. "Come bambolina; let's escape the noisy crowd in here. I'll show you Mama's gardens."
There was nothing worse than desperately needing the loo in a very large, dark and strange house in the wee hours of the morning. The villa's endless hallways had her going in circles and Rose didn't dare open doors to see if she could find it. What if she opened someone's bedroom door? Or maybe, maybe there wasn't even a loo on the second floor to begin with. Maybe there was just the one downstairs and she was fairly sure she could locate it again if she tried.
Ever so carefully Rose found the stairs and moved slowly down them. "Is this what being blind is like?" she wondered, groping the railing. If it was, she had no idea how more people didn't die of broken necks from falling down the stairs! Then again, she could climb the stairs at Baker Street and the townhouse in her sleep, so there was the home turf advantage. She, on the other hand, had no advantages.
When she finally reached the first floor the sound of voices came floating from down a hallway. "Perfect, why wander aimlessly if you can ask?" Rose made her way towards the sound of the voices and was quickly within hearing distance. What she heard however, made her blood run cold. They were talking in Italian about guns and not just any guns, but very big ones if she understood correctly. But she definitely heard the word arma which could mean anything from hand guns to heavy duty armaments and medio Oriente… The Middle East. What the bloody hell had she gotten herself into?
She turned to scurry back upstairs and plan an escape when the old wooden floor creaked beneath her feet. A door just feet away from her flew open and there was Damiano's father. He didn't say a word, merely stared at her, his eyes so hard and cold.
"I can't find the bathroom," Rose said quickly, crossing her legs. "Um… uh… bagno? Bagno per favore?" She said the words slowly, stumbling over them as fear pulsated in her veins.
Suddenly Damiano was there beside his father. "Tracy? There's one upstairs," he commented, frowning at her.
"I couldn't find it in the dark and I remembered one being down here," she explained.
"Okay, let's go back upstairs and I will show you," Damiano said. He took her hand and led her away from what had appeared to be a very large office. Once upstairs, he showed her where the loo was and kissed her sweetly before disappearing down stairs once more.
Rose hurried into the loo and locked the door behind her. Once she finished using the facilities, she sat down on the cold tile floor and wrapped her arms around herself, her mind reeling. "How do I get out of this?" she whispered.
Extracting herself from Damiano turned out to be far more difficult that Rose had hoped it would be. He knew her schedule intimately and they had always spent every free moment today, so it would look suspicious if she suddenly disappeared. She had her boss, Gino, schedule her for more hours, so that her whole weekend was booked and she could not accept Sophia Baresi's offer to come stay the whole next weekend. Damiano then whispered to Gino how much he wanted to take her back to the villa and suddenly Rose had a three day weekend free and no reasonable excuse to not accompany Damiano that weekend.
Though the opportunity did not quite present itself to get away cleanly, Rose was, however, ready to leave as soon as that moment arrived. There was little of importance to take with her and her backpack was always at the ready. Two changes of clothing, Teddy, all three passports (two fake, one real), a burner mobile, and every bit of money she had were in her 'go bag.' If only the chance to go would present itself. For now, all Rose could do was keep playing the game, now for the greatest prize of all: her survival.
A glimmer of hope appeared before her that Friday morning as Damiano came to collect her for the trip to the villa. His motorbike was broken down and needed to be repaired. "Oh, that's too bad," Rose told him sympathetically. "We'll have to go another weekend, yeah?"
"Well, there is a solution. We could rent a car," Damiano pointed out. "You have a driver's license, yes?"
Rose's heart sank. "Yeah, but don't you?"
Damiano shook his head. "No, just for the motorbike. Cars are a different license. So we can go get the car in your name and we will go."
"Aren't most cars here manual transmission?" Rose asked. She was grasping at straws as her gut churned violently. "I've only ever driven cars with automatic transmission." In reality, her driver's license was a fake, purchased from the same person that had done her passports. It was a convenient way to establish one's identity and Rose had never envisioned actually needing to use it. She could drive, a little bit, but she had never completed her practice time to get her license in London because Mycroft had refused to take her out again after the first few attempts had gone a little roughly.
"Oh, that's no problem," Damiano assured her. "You get the car with your license but I can drive it. I know how to drive manual transmission, but I never bothered with a license. Why would I need it when I have my motorbike?"
He was very insistent that they get a car and Rose was growing concerned about crossing that line where the lady doth protest too much. "I'd rather have a motorbike than a car too," she admitted with a smile. "Much more convenient, except when it breaks down! Is there a place close by we can rent from?" Rose knew she'd said the right thing when he smiled back at her.
When Rose and Damiano arrived at the rental place near the airport, she noticed that two men who had been following them also made their way inside and appeared to be waiting their turn. They were not dressed like typical tourist car renters, however, and Rose once again believed they were outright tailing she and Damiano. They weren't men of Mycroft's, she'd dismissed that theory long ago, but they were either Baresi family employees or policemen. Damiano paid no attention to them, which made Rose believe that they were somehow known to him and thus, she tried not to worry about. After signing the rental agreement, she watched Damiano hand over the money and took the keys from the agent. The two men leisurely followed behind them as they searched for the car to match the set of keys. She breathed a sigh of relief when they left the men behind at the rental lot.
Unfortunately her sigh of relief cam far too soon; after all, she was not the sister of Mycroft Holmes for nothing. She knew exactly what tailing a car at a distance looked like and those two men were in fact tailing them. They stayed a few cars back, but Rose could clearly make out their faces in the rearview mirror. God knows she'd seen those faces often enough recently! Rose watched out her passenger side window, humming along lazily with the song on the radio, casually keeping an eye on the two men and their vehicle. She was so focused on watching them that she didn't realize Damiano was turning into a driveway until they were already in it. The men in the car drove past, but definitely slowed down and Rose was willing to bet anything that they would be waiting somewhere to trail she and Damiano once again.
"Where are we?" Rose asked, stretching a bit.
"So you were day dreaming then," Damiano laughed. "The pretty landscape lulled you into daydreams and you didn't hear me. I said we were stopping for a moment, because I needed to see a friend."
"Sorry," Rose blushed. She reached her hand towards the belt buckle but Damiano stopped her.
"I'll only be a minute bambolina. Stay here and listen to the music," he said, leaning down to kiss her hand. Without another word, he exited the vehicle to greet a middle aged man that emerged from the house.
Trying to appear as if she were still somewhat day dreamy, she closed her eyes part way but kept a keen eye on what was going on around her. The side view mirror assisted her in her efforts and initially it seemed as if her gut instinct that she should be wary about this little sidetrack appeared to be wrong. There was hugging and chatter asking about relatives and it all seemed well and good… until Damiano popped the trunk of the car.
Her heart started pounding loudly in alarm. They hadn't put anything in the trunk at the rental lot! Apparently someone else had! Rose's jaw dropped momentarily as she saw money pass to Damiano's hands and what was very clearly cocaine pass into the other man's. Why oh why hadn't she listened to Gino, when he'd tried to warn her away from Damiano and his family?
Rose could suddenly hear Mycroft's words echoing extemporaneously in her head. You never learn. How many times do we have to have this conversation? I know damn well you are not an idiot and it would be beneficial if you stopped acting like one. You're so selfish and spoiled, always doing what you want when you want to without a care to the consequences or anyone else.
She was exactly what he accused her of and that was precisely how she managed to get into this mess. A wave of hopelessness unlike anything she'd ever felt before washed over her and tears began to sting her eyes. Would she be able to get herself out of this? Then again, what choice did she have?
Damiano climbed back into the driver's seat and immediately noticed something was wrong. "Bambolina? Tracy?"
It was only then that Rose realized he had reentered the car and she hurriedly tried to wipe away the few tears that had fallen.
"What is wrong?" he asked, reaching for her hand and squeezing it gently.
This was so completely unfair! Damiano was so perfect in every way, except apparently he was a member of some sort of crime family. "It's so beautiful here," Rose said slowly. "I was thinking about how much my Mum would like it here." It wasn't completely a lie; Maud Holmes had been to Italy many times and did in fact like it, though she preferred Greece if there was a choice between the two.
Damiano nodded. "We're almost to the villa and it will be impossible for you to be lonely there," he promised. "Too many people for anyone to ever be lonely."
Rose couldn't help but laugh. "That is very, very true." She tried to relax and believe that somehow, someway there would be a way out for her. She would merely need to be smart enough to see it and take it.
As they left the driveway and got back onto the road, Rose was not the least bit surprised to see the two men following them once more.
After arriving at the villa Rose had very little time to worry or do anything other than be occupied by the mass chaos that was the Baresi family. Little ones running around, yummy food to make, walking in the garden, the day passed quickly and pleasantly, though Rose always stayed on her guard as best she could.
Just before 1am, Rose said goodnight to the adults still awake and headed upstairs to the guest room. She wasn't tired enough to sleep yet, but some quiet time to think about things would certainly be beneficial. Just as she was getting her pajamas out of her backpack the wail of sirens was heard in the drive and spotlights lit up the front of the house. No… It just couldn't be. Not the polizia. That certainly answered the question of who the hell her stalkers-come-lately were.
Before she could even think of what to do, the door to her room slammed open, revealing a very, very angry Damiano. "You," he growled. "You did this. You're an informant aren't you? They are here for my family! We welcomed you!"
"I had nothing to do with this Damiano, I swear!" Rose protested. "I have no idea what they are doing here or what is going on, I'm just as shocked as you are!"
"LIAR!" Damiano accused. He raised his hand and backhanded her, the force of it throwing her back a ways. Rose cried out and could taste something metallic in her mouth; the taste of blood.
When he came after her a second time, Rose was ready for him and gave him a solid right hook. She felt a second of pride when he staggered backwards. Someday she'd have to thank Sherlock for teaching her that.
It didn't take him far enough back however and he came at her again, screaming obscenities in Italian. Damiano grabbed her throat with both hands, slammed her back against the wall and began choking her.
Out of sheer instinct, and good training from her big brother, Rose tucked her chin down, enabling her to breath. She grabbed hold of Damiano's wrists with her hands and pulled against them with all her strength. He held tight, but lurched forward due to the sheer momentum of her full body weight pulling him and that was when she struck. Rose kneed him in the solar plexus and Damiano let go of her throat. Drawing in a deep breath she kneed him in the groin, watching him fall over, and landed yet another right hook, hearing the crunch of his nose beneath her fist.
Hoping against hope that Damiano would be occupied with his injuries long enough for her to get away, Rose grabbed her bag and ran from the room to the one directly across from hers. There was a balcony with a trellis in that room and without even sparing a second to be afraid, Rose climbed over the trellis and moved down it, until it ran out, leaving her stuck six feet above the ground. Grabbing hold of a drain pipe, she swung over onto it and shimmied down until her feet touched the ground. As she ran into the night, she could hear the sound of massive gunfire behind her; it sickened her, thinking of the women and children still in that house, but there was nothing she could do for them.
Guided only by the light of the moon, Rose ran far enough from the villa to cross the street onto a neighbor's property without being seen. She slipped into the orchard and ran through it, trying desperately to calculate the miles back to Rome. Her tired, panicked mind just couldn't make the numbers work but she knew it was much too far for her to walk the whole way back. She would have to find help somewhere, from someone and get 'the hell outta dodge' as the saying went. It seemed a particularly appropriate phrase, considering the fact that her life had somehow turned into the most horrific of spaghetti westerns.
She ran for hours, stopping only once to break the burner mobile she had been using in Rome and pulled her spare from the bag. The sight of her Teddy reminded her of Mycroft and she wanted more than anything to call him and beg him to bring her home. With trembling hands she began to punch in his mobile number. Pressing the button to activate the call, Rose struggled to keep from bursting into tears. What if he didn't answer? What if he did and he was angry? What if he wouldn't let her come home? What if he said he didn't care, that she'd made her bed and must lie in it? It would break her, she knew it would.
The phone rang and rang and rang until it was answered and she could hear Mycroft sleepily fumble with his mobile. Before he could even say a word, Rose ended the call, emotionally unable to countenance facing him after what she'd done. It wasn't time to go home yet, and she promised in that moment to never, ever tell him what had happened in Rome. After breaking that mobile too, she began to run again, hoping she would soon find the home of the orchard's owner, silently thanking that person for the shelter its trees gave her.
Mycroft let out a groan when his mobile began to ring. It was 3am and god only knew what manner of emergency might be rousing him from sleep. He pressed the button to answer the call and fumbled for a moment to bring it to his ear and speak. Just as he did so, the line went dead. Looking at the number, unable to recall it from anywhere, he immediately wondered if it was Rose and his heart began pounding wildly. Mycroft called the number back and there was no response. "Poppet, where are you and what are you doing?" he said out loud, the words etched with heartache. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her… or if she never came home at all.
It was a beautiful, early morning, perfect for a strong cup of coffee consumed while admiring the landscape. The coffee drinker, a young man, was thrilled to have the rented farmhouse to himself for the day. His parents and sisters had departed moments ago to see the Roman Forum before the crowds came and made it miserable. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, it seemed as if nothing at all could mar this magical moment at just past 5am…
And then something did.
Namely because it came crashing out of the adjacent orchard, tripped over a plant and fell flat on its face in the dirt. No, it wasn't an it; definitely human and, he was fairly certain the human was a girl. As he tried to think of what to say- how does one greet a random woodland creature that emerges less than gracefully from one's rented orchard?- she got up. He got his first full look at her and it was quite a look…
As in not a very good look at all! The while front of her was covered in dirt, her legs were scratched all to hell, there was dried blood smeared on her face and she was sporting quite the bruise. No, not a bruise, bruises, plural. One marred what was otherwise a pretty face and the other her neck, finger impressions and all. What the bloody hell had happened to her?
"Hello?" he called. "You look like you might need some assistance, unless this where and how you do your morning run. Somehow I don't think that's the case." As she turned to look at him, he could see she was exhausted and very frightened, her eyes wide with alarm.
Rose's heart raced as she turned to face this stranger. It was a man. Of course it was a man. Her body could hardly produce the necessary adrenaline to make her fight-or-flight response kick in and she merely stood there, staring.
Putting down his coffee, the man began to slowly approach her. "My name is Tom," he said, in a soothing, lilting voice. "My parents are renting this farmhouse but they've gone and I'm the only one home right now." He moved ever closer, trying to be as least threatening as possible. Finally they were within arm's reach of one another.
"I think you need some help," he said again. "And I would like to give it if you want to have it."
Rose looked him up and down, trying to size him up. He looked harmless and friendly, but so had Damiano at one point. "Please tell me you're not a serial killer."
The man, Tom, frowned and blinked slowly. That was quite a question! "Nope, not the last time I checked at any rate." He gave her what he hoped was a friendly smile and was thrilled to earn one in return.
"Can you check again?" Rose asked softly.
Tom chuckled before schooling his features, looking as though he were contemplating some complex equation for several seconds. "Still a no. There's coffee and breakfast in the house, if you'll come in. If you'd rather not I can bring it out here."
"No! No, inside is good," Rose decided. The less of her that was seen by people the better. She walked towards him and put her hand in his when he held it out.
"Come on darling, let's get you inside and tackle your troubles one at a time," Tom said encouragingly. Within just a few moments he sat her at the kitchen table with coffee, bacon and toast. Leaving the food on the table he stepped out of the room and returned a moment later with a wet flannel. With great care he began to gently wash the dirt and dried blood from her face.
"I'm so tired," Rose whispered.
"You look it darling," Tom admitted. "What's your name? And who did this to you?" The bruises looked so much more violent now that he could see them better.
"I'm Tracy. I left the guy in worse shape than I am, promise."
Tom smiled. "Oh yeah? A little thing like you?"
"Though she be but little, she is fierce," Rose said quietly. "He'll walk funny for a day after how hard I kicked him in the groin and with any luck I broke a rib or two in addition to his nose."
"Woe be unto him then," Tom replied firmly. "Who is the he in question?"
Rose sighed softly. "My boyfriend; my ex boyfriend. We're here on holiday and had a terrible row and I grabbed my stuff and left." That was true, in a sense. "I haven't got a clue how long I've been walking but it's been hours and hours. I never thought I'd find the house attached to the orchard." She waved her hand out the window in the direction of the orchard.
"Where are you headed? And how can I help?" Tom asked as he put down the flannel.
"Rome," Rose immediately responded. "Airport. I have to get out of here. I know I'm ages and ages from Rome and I really have no idea who you are but..."
"I can do that. Finish your breakfast and I'll take you. I've got a motorbike; my parents have the rental car. Is that alright?"
She gave him a weak smile. "I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth. I need to leave fast and be stealthy about it, to be frank. Have you got a hat and maybe a jacket you could loan me for the ride?"
"Time is of the essence, got it. Eat up while I go get something to disguise you in," Tom told her. He half expected her to be out the door when he returned five minutes later, but she was still at the table, plate and cup empty. "It's not fancy but it will get you to the airport without looking like yourself. Where's your family, love?"
"That's where I'm going," Rose told him. That was an out and out lie. In actuality, she was going to get on the first plane to anywhere that wasn't here the minute she changed her looks.
"Good. You're too young to be going on holidays with boys," Tom told her with a teasing smile.
"I'm eighteen, what are you, twenty?" She smiled a real smile when he nodded, but it faded almost as fast as it appeared. "Can we go?"
"You bet." He handed over the hat and jacket and moments later they were on the road back to Rome.
Rose had never been happier to see an airport than she was at just that moment. She slid gracefully off the motorbike when it was parked and shed the borrowed hat and jacket, returning them to their owner. "Thank you… thank you so much," Rose said sincerely.
"You're welcome," Tom replied, equally sincere. "I'd love to meet you again someday, under better circumstances. Until then, be safe, and find better men to date, alright?"
She blushed bright red at his comment about dating, feeling more than a little ashamed of having gotten herself into this whole mess. "No offense, but god I hope I never see you again," Rose blurted out.
Tom laughed and shook his head. "Can't blame you darling. I'd want to forget whatever mess you've been in too."
"I'll never forget you though," Rose promised. "And what you've done for me today." On impulse she hugged him tightly in lieu of a goodbye before disappearing inside the airport.
An hour later Rose was no longer Tracy Lord. Her blonde hair had been dyed red and she'd had matching extensions put in. Her colored contacts were tossed in the trash, her bruises were covered with make-up, and she had a new outfit, jacket and hat. Standing beneath a board listing the comings and goings of planes, she surveyed her immediate choices and one in particular stuck out to her. Luxembourg. Who would look for her in Luxembourg? Her decision made, Rose retrieved a passport from her bag and went to purchase her ticket.
"What name should I put the ticket in?" the attendant asked when she stepped up to the desk.
"Charles; Nora Charles."
It was time to disappear and actually learn something, rather than prove Mycroft's criticisms of her right.
