Next chapter's on the 23rd of May.
The Mistress keeps an eye on Bill as she drives south.
The human has been quiet, unnerved and apologetic since her breakdown and the Time Lady is worried somewhat.
The sky is bright overhead, cloudless as the car they're in eats up the miles, dust streaming behind them.
The Mistress wishes that Bill could take solace in it as much as she is. As much as she knows there is still danger there is something about feeling the sun on her skin after so long and hearing the wind in her ears which she can't help but be warmed by physically and emotionally.
It softens her enough that she starts to hum, an old song which she'd forgotten the name to long ago.
Beside her Bill is listing, periodically righting herself with a small gasp every now and then and looking around as if they were being attacked.
The human is tired, emotionally more than physically.
Occasionally she stares into the distance for a stretch of time, or into the wing mirror, trying to see an imagined pursuer though the Mistress has tried to reassure her that she can't feel anyone for miles about, and certainly not anyone who isn't thinking about much more than merely trying to prolong their bleak existence and stay as safe as possible with the people they care about.
The car they're in is innocuous anyway, dusty as any other they've passed on the road, few and far between though they are, and at least over a year old if the array of dents and scratches is anything to go by. Missy is confident that they will go unseen for some time more.
Bill has fallen asleep after a few hours, face pressed against the window in a way which the Time Lady knows must be uncomfortable.
The Mistress pulls over in an empty field, parking as close to the towering hedgerow shielding them from sight by anyone going along the road. She gets out, stretching and enjoying the breeze, what of it she can feel through her clothes, and the feeling of sun on her face.
She splays out the map which had been left on the driver's seat on the bonnet of the car, tracing the path they've followed with her finger. She places her hand where they are now and quickly traces out the quickest route to get to the x on the map, drawn in yellow highlighter over what she thinks, if she is meant to guess by the scribble of a building on the cover of the map over a patch of white paint, should be the city hall in Paris.
In the envelope with the map was a stack of notes with numbers on them- a new currency but the format is similar enough that the Time Lady understands it. She presumes it's to buy food or fuel if they should run out though the tank is still about four fifths full.
Bill wakes up shortly, as Missy is packing the map away. The Mistress sees her start, look around again, see her and calm down just a little, brain clearly still fogged by sleep.
The woman raises her eyebrows in question and mouths something which the Mistress can't identify. The Time Lady gestures back, extending the arm not holding the paper down and drawing her hand towards herself, 'come here'.
Bill clearly understands it and cracks open the door, looking left and right as if there was anyone there to see them before hopping out of the car and rounding the front.
"Are we lost?" She whispers, rubbing her jaw where she'd be leaning against the window and squinting at the map.
"No, no. Not at all," Missy reassures her, "I'm just checking the fastest route. I think it should take us about another two hours." She summarises.
The human hums, a questioning tone.
"How long has it been?" she follows up, stifling a yawn as she does.
"About two hours since we set off, you've been asleep for about an hour. It was three twenty-four when I stopped the car a few minutes ago." The Mistress frowns for a second, realising that her sense of time still isn't quite right. She hopes it's just this strange time stream that they've been shunted into not co-operating with her mind.
Bill makes a sound of acknowledgement, taking a moment to process the information.
"I'm sorry," she says eventually, "I'm sorry for freaking out like that and falling asleep on you. This is just…" the human stops again, thinking, "not what I thought it would be like." She finishes finally.
The Time Lady smiles, the expression not quite the right fit but the one which she takes anyway.
"That's okay. You're allowed to be stressed and tired. We're going to make sure we both get through this, okay? And for now that means you should rest. Why don't you sleep in the back of the car while I drive?" Missy says.
Bill hums again, brow furrowing.
"But isn't that kind of dangerous?" She asks, seeming confused that the Time Lady would offer it as an option.
"It'll be fine." the Mistress tells her, putting a hand on her shoulder and looking her in the eyes, "I promise. You'll wake up and we'll be getting some coffee hopefully." She adds.
Bill yawns again but nods, telling the Time Lady to wake her if she needs to and climbing into the back of the car.
Missy hears her adjust some bags and shrugs off her jacket before putting the map away, tucked into a pocket on her trousers along with the wad of money. She puts it over Bill who smiles appreciatively and closes the passenger door and then her own.
The Mistress opens the windows, turns the key in the ignition and reverses back onto the road.
As the Time Lady said Bill sleeps all the way to Paris.
The Mistress manages to find a spot just opposite the city hall, pulling in amongst so many cars in a similar state to theirs. She reaches back and shakes the human awake.
Bill startles to attention, sitting bolt upright as soon as she wakes and blinking at the light.
"What's happened? Are we safe? Are we here?" She asks in quick succession.
"Yes, yes. It's okay. Everything's fine and we're here. We're meant to be at the building opposite I think." Missy whispers, pointing to the elaborate building in front of them, carved with endless flourishes, statues of robed people, feathered forms at the top of columns and the windows framed by diamonds and circles, even and exact. It stretches lengthways more than upwards, a sprawling, symmetrical beast with heavy gated doors, iron wrought into equally beautiful patterns, and one wooden door in the middle, open.
The Mistress can feel that there are monks inside there and weaves a mental shield around her mind and as much as she can around Bill's. She doesn't tell the girl that they are in there, instead smiles.
"Since we don't know when the next thing should be happening why don't we get coffee and maybe a pastry if we're lucky? There's a shop right there so we can keep an eye on things." The Time Lady offers.
She wishes that they could be going already.
The two of them lock the car, taking everything with them in case anyone looks in, and head into the cafe.
It looks like it would have been grand once, ceilings high and the outside decorated to fall in with the more elaborate building over the road. It isn't now, dingy and windows only just about clear enough to see through. The walls are yellowed and peeling and the wooden floor is worn where chairs and tables have been dragged across them so many times.
The Mistress orders a coffee for each of them and the two pastries which look most appealing. Her accent is off if the odd look the sole worker gives is any indication but she says nothing, serving them, taking her money and giving back the change with a distinctly unquestioning air, mind shutting down the curiosity she has before she can ask them anything other than whether they would like cream and sugar. The Mistress accepts both and feels Bill restrain herself from saying anything, clearly not having any clue what is being said.
They take a seat and the cashier turns to the next person in the queue.