Title: Everybody's Fool

Rating: T

Characters: Rose, Peter Carlisle, DC Blythe(Blackpool)

Pairings: hinted 9/Rose, Rose/Peter

Spoilers: Blackpool, and spoilers for Bad Wolf and POTW

Summery: D.I. Peter Carlisle continues his case of murder in Blackpool, attempting to frame Ridley. However a chance meeting with a young woman who knows more than she should may just lead him to somewhere he never imagined.

Song Credits: The Heat of the Night by Bryan Adams

"So what did you find?"

Blythe looked up at him, surprised as normal. His partner eats a chicken strip from the small box at the fast food restaurant they had stopped at. The nagging question kept coming back to him as of how this man could eat and still be so scrawny. He sighed and shook his head, blinking as the sun came into his eyes.

"'Bout what?" he asked.

"Oh Blythe." Peter sighed. "I told you before I left to do a look up on 'The Wolf'."

"Oh, yeh." He sighed again, looking up. "Well take your pick. Everything from movies to stories….although there was something interesting." He turned his attention back to his partner who looked down at him. "But before I tell you, I want to know why you had me look up something so stupid."

Peter looked forward, munching on another chicken strip. "Simple. She said she had information bout our case. Now, I reckon that if you looked up her name – Rose Tyler – you'd only find the things 'bout her missin' a few months ago. So, then, you look up the alias she goes by. She told me it was The Wolf. Simple as that, now what did you find?" he offered him a piece, but Blythe put his hand up. Peter shrugged.

"Well, uhm." Blythe sighed, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. "Actually the only thing I found that might be even close was a conspiracy website." Peter looked at him oddly, taking a large bite from his snack. "Accordin' to this website this woman with the alias of 'The Wolf' has been appearing all over time and history, accordin' to the site that is. They got pictures of a blond girl with lotta people and a lotta places, famous places."

"Could be photo edited."

"Yea, I know." The partner looked up at him. "Though I wonder how they got her to be in the right clothing for the period." Peter shrugged. "Well you wanted to know what I found so I told you. Now what would this have to do with finding Mike Hooley's death?"

"Like I said, she said she knows who did it and who we outta be chargin'." Peter looked at him. "'Course she isn't gonna tell me easily. She told me to meet her by the arcade this evenin' at seven."

"You gonna show up? We all know how horrible you are at making appointments….unless there is food envolved." Blythe shot jokingly. Peter wiggled his eyebrows in response, a smile on his face as he ate another strip. "Honestly though, do you think she's gonna say anythin'?"

"Dunno, we'll have to see."

Rose shifted, looking up at the black night. The lights at the nearby arcade blinked with their normal amount of energy to bring in the customers. Cars based in Blackpool to their destinations, late or on time. It seemed so little and small, when time was so large and big. This murder wouldn't be at large in the future, but the effects on the people around it would be at large. That is why she was here. To stop a snowball affect that could doom the small little down. Maybe he wouldn't have d one it, but Rose felt a small certain love for her home country and planet.

Her eyes moved from the arcade to her wrist where she moved the fabric from her sleeve away to look at the time. It was seven thirty, he was late. Half of her expected it, the more logical and analytical part of her…but the human, the emotional side, was hurt. She sighed at herself, supposing that no matter how much she tried to get away from it, part of her would always be human. Rose folded her arms across her chest, looking around for the man in question. Of course he wouldn't come, not everyone was like her and would go running off with someone in a blue box when they had the chance.

Logic won. She turned to unlock the box and walk inside, closing the doors on this night and waiting for the morning where she could try to change things again.

"You kno', it's not really polite to be closin' the door in your date's face. Unless, of course, that's what they do in London now a days."

She was startled and spun around, back against the closed doors with her eyes wide. Peter stared at her, his eyebrows raised. She smiled nervously and nodded, standing up straight.

"Public Police Phone Box." He read. "You kno', you can get arrested for stealin' and livin' in police property."

"It doesn't belong to the police." She stated.

"Uh huh." He clicked his tongue against his teeth, pretending not to buy it. He returned his attention down to her. "Right then, so were are we goin' this fine lovely evenin'?"

The place she wanted to take him she couldn't, after all it was a popular club in the nineteen twenties in downtown New York. She could tell he really didn't trust her, but he had all the right to, she was withholding information from him. She smiled a bit, leaning against the blue box.

"Dunno, thought some popular club in town." She suggested. He tilted his head, not giving an approval, his eyes going to the blue box behind her. She smiled. His interests of the box had perked up a bit.

Maybe this wasn't a lost cause, thought her human instincts. However her logical part thought that the whole dating thing was petty and stupid. She should just confront him about what she needed to say, give him some time, and leave. But that would be heartless and cruel, which isn't something he needed at the moment. Who cares? He was stupid enough to go and fall in love with the woman. But you don't choose who you fall in love with! Who says that? Love is just a chemical balance in the brain. No it isn't, it's a feeling too!

Chemistry and a feeling. What an odd mix of science and human nature.

"A lot of those have been goin' in, yeh?" his voice cut through her thoughts and she looked back up at him. "Well then, let's get goin'. Don't want to be keeping Blackpool waitin'."

Peter Carlisle was a gentleman, there was no doubt in anyone's mind of that, besides Ripley's of course. He held his arm out to her, which she gladly took as they began walking down to the boardwalk, passing the arcade. They gave their nods to the protestor who sat outside the arcade, who nodded and smiled back. The night was young in Blackpool.

"Now that I think 'bout it, I'm pretty sure there is a swing club down at the waterfront." He said, looking down at her as her eyes met his gaze. "Watcha think 'bout that?"

"Swinging with a copper." Rose smiled, trying to add humor to the situation. "Well, I don't see any reason why not. I like dancing."

"I never said anythin' bout dancin', yeh?" Peter smirked. "I was just thinkin' the atmosphere would be coverin' up yer questionin'."

"I'm not going to answer anything until we start dancing." She responded with a defiant tone. He shrugged. He wasn't an up tight copper, he could allow a dance in here and there if it meant he could get what he needed out of her. He wanted this case solved. He wanted Ripley behind bars. He wanted out of Blackpool.

"Alright then, one dance, how bout that?"

"Sounds good to me."

The club was lively. Unlike the others that Peter usually went to on his off days, this one was filled with dancing and being alive, nothing to do with sex really. However this club focused on the American time periods of the Roaring Twenties through the Forties, and featuring music and any kind of drink in that twenty year period. He had to admit he was a bit surprised by how many people were here, but it just proved a better hand for his questioning. However the blond that had her arm tied with his arm didn't seem all that interested in his questioning, rather everything else that was going on. There would be times when she'd point something out.

She was incredibly knowledgeable. She knew things that a normal person wouldn't know unless they spent their lives researching it. That lead to even more suspicion in his mind, after all it wasn't surprising how she would know about Mike Hooley's gang if she knew the mafia family from the twenties that ran illegal gambling in the alleyways of San Francisco. He had asked how she knew about those, since that would have been classified information from the government.

"I met them." She had said simple and easily. "Not that nice of a bunch, you know. Rather rude, but their ladies seemed to convince them that I didn't mean that much so I was able to go free."

That wouldn't have been possible. They wouldn't even be alive now. She really was a nutter.

But despite that, Peter still found himself sitting across from Rose in the club. Her chin was in her hand, she was looking out over the dance floor with a distant glaze on her eyes, remembering something. He reached forward for his drink, raising his glass as he studied her. He knew she was hiding more than she was letting on, but what could he do to convince her to tell him? The quicker he got a witness for Ripley committing the crime the quicker it would be solved and he would be behind bars.

She looked at him. "You want to know something."

Direct, well that was always a nice start.

"Well there are a lotta things I want to kno' 'bout you." Peter agreed, leaning forward on the table as she turned her full attention to him. "Well besides Mike Hooley's murder of course."

"Shoot."

"Alright then." Peter smiled to himself and prepared himself for a long drawn out explanation. "I want to kno' why you are hanging around an old blue box. I want to kno' how you know all these things 'bout me. I want to kno' more about this companion of yours and why your mother canceled the missing note on you six months ago."

Rose shifted uncomfortably. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you, copper."

Peter scoffed. "I'm shaggin' my main suspect's wife, most the time I don't even want to admit or believe that. I don't know who I've become, so I think it's safe to say that I'm open to believe anythin'."

"It's not a police box."

Peter blinked, his eyebrows knitting together. "Wot?"

"It's a ship." Rose continued explaining without bothering to wait for him to understand. "The police box is just a disguise like I told you. It's actually a ship," her eyes watched him as he sat back, blinking and trying to sort out if she really was a nutter or just pulling his chain. "It's called the TARDIS," she sat up. "I know all these things because I've seen em. Oh and my mum called off the missing note because she found out where I went as did the London police."

His brain decided to go for the unanswered question before trying to sort out her answer. "And yer companion?"

"Dead."

"Yes well we knew that, wot else 'bout him though?"

Rose looked away before looking back at him. "He invited me onto the TARDIS, it isn't my ship rightfully. It was his. I told you about him already. We traveled together."

"Traveled where?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Well I want to make certain that you're a nutter before I go on decidin' to trust yer word on Mike Hooley that's why." Peter said lowly.

"Everywhere." She answered the question curtly. "Anywhere. Anytime. That's where. Does that answer your question?"

"…not really, but I suppose that's the best we are gonna get now, yeh?" Peter took another drink. He set the drink down and stood up, putting his payment on the table and headed to the door. Yet another dead lead. Why did a dead man have to be so damn complicated anyways? He opened the door and stepped outside, walking down the steps quickly. He heard the bell on the door ring and he turned, seeing Rose standing in the door way, holding the door open as more people stepped inside.

"Met a man with a message from the other side." She stepped down and walked up to him, glaring slightly as he turned to move away from her but she cut him off. "Couldn't take the pressure – had to leave it behind." Peter stepped around her and continued on but she followed. "He said 'It's up to you! You can run or you can fight.'" She could tell she wasn't making her point, so she took him by the arm and stepped in front of him and glared. "Better leave it alone in the heat of the night."

Peter scowled and stepped away again, knowing that she was switching the topic onto him and his affair. It wasn't any of her business. Why she kept pressuring it made no sense to him, but he tried to block out her voice and song, but it somehow seemed to pin through him. He felt like the dartboard, between the darts and the wall.

"In the heat of the night they'll be comin' around. They'll be lookin' for answers. They'll be chasin' you down." She sang louder as he stopped, standing with his back to her. "In the heat of the night."

"Had to pay the piper to call the tune. Said he'd be back someday – said he'd be back real soon." Peter kept his back to her as he darted back. "Pull the shades down low – you'll know when the time is right." He turned slightly, glaring at her. "When you're lyin' alone in the head of the night."

"Where you gonna hide when it all comes down?" she asked.

"Don't' look back don't ever turn around." He shot.

"In the heat of the night they'll be comin' around." She stepped forward.

He stepped forward. "They'll be lookin' for answers."

"They'll be chasin' you down!" she shouted.

"In the heat of the night." They yelled at another, now face to face, angry.

"They'll be comin' around." He shouted.

"They'll be lookin' for answers!" she shouted back.

"They'll be chasin' you down!"he yelled. "In the heat of the night."

With that he turned and began stalking off, insulted, turning like a dog with its tail between its legs at the truth that had been slapped to his face. However he stopped and looked over his shoulder, seeing her angry but proud with herself for hitting him verbally. She still knew something he didn't, but he couldn't work in his angry state of mind, in his bitterness. He continued back to his hotel room, walking and pushing people out of his way.

Rose knew he'd come looking for her in the morning. She realized that they never did get that dance.