After Jack left, Alba shimmied back up the ladder to retrieve the book from the place she had hastily jammed it. She climbed back down the ladder and debated lounging on the loveseat with it, but thought better and took it back to her room. She shoved it underneath the mattress, next to the kitchen knife. She took the knife out, wrapped it up in a spare pillowcase she found at the bottom of the armoire, and wedged it in between the mattress and the headboard. She was getting quite the collection going, but she wasn't quite done yet. She walked back out into the hall and walked the opposite direction of the library, to the other end of the hallway where she hadn't yet explored.
The door there at the end of the hall had a stained glass window with no particular design, just different panes in varying shades of blue and green. She turned the knob, and was almost surprised when it yielded to her. The door swung open, and she stepped into an indoor greenhouse that looked to be about as big in size as the library. In raised beds by the windows, fragrant kitchen herbs dotted a dozen different clay pots. In addition to the herbal makings of an old Simon and Garfunkel song, she spotted savory, marjoram, basil, lavender, chervil, and something that might have been lemon balm or lemon basil.. She moved around the room, noting with amusement that in one corner he was definitely growing something that looked suspiciously like marijuana. The closer she got to it, the more surprised she was that she hadn't smelled it right when she walked in. Perhaps the greenhouse were actually a bit bigger than the library.
Seriously green house..., she thought to herself, guiltily plucking one of the larger buds off the plant. If anything, it might help quell the ever-present feeling of nausea she'd developed since finding herself naked in the slave exchange. She had no pockets, so she just held the fuzzy little bud clutched in her fist as she continued to walk around. His greenhouse seemed to be as confused as he was-next to completely innocuous and garden variety flowers and plants, he was also growing belladonna, poppies, and digitalis. She made a second pass-by the marijuana and grabbed a few more buds, sticking them to the one already clutched in her damp palm.
She deposited all but one of her littles buddies into a tiny Tupperware from the kitchen, and hid it inside the toilet tank of her bathroom before heading back to the kitchen. There, she was relieved to find that Jack had completely stocked out both the fridge and pantry, and stomach grumbling, she started to use a vegetable peeler to poke a hole into the side of an apple. Using her fingers, she crumbled the weed into her makeshift pipe before she realized that she didn't have a lighter. A frustrated search through the junk drawer yielded several books of matches, but no lighter. Determined, she plowed on.
Puffing on her apple pipe, she stared into the fridge, formulating culinary ideas. Her mother had been pretty awful at cooking, though Andrea would always insist otherwise. Alba had taken up doing most of the cooking, and had even become pretty good at it. Focusing on a new recipe, or creating one from scratch, she was happy to be in the kitchen puttering away. Cooking was a grounding activity for her, and she found a certain kind of peace and clarity in the methodical, repetitious work of chopping vegetables, peeling garlic and the like. Reaching into the fridge, she pulled out a small, whole chicken and a bag of fresh lemons. Stroking her chin, she decided she needed to make a second visit to the greenhouse, for some of the less illicit herbs he had growing there.
He wanted her to cook? Fine. She would get stoned off his stash and create something so delicious, it'd knock his goddamn socks off and start a culinary revolution. Well, she would just settle for something that tasted good at this point, honestly.. She could only hope that the way to a madman's heart was, like any other man, also through his stomach. And once she had crept into his heart, maybe she would have a shot at picking his brain.
She hit the power button to a tiny CD player/radio that was hanging underneath one of the cabinets, and laughed when the familiar melody of "Scarborough Fair" came pouring out at her. After retrieving the necessary herbs from the greenhouse, she dove immediately into cooking. Between the clatter of pots and pans and the music, she didn't hear the shrill ring of the mobile phone Jack had left for her.
Oblivious, she sang along with the words, feeling an absurd sense of giddy purpose, "...parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme!"
When the Doctor came home, he was less than ecstatic to find the kitchen sink littered with used matches, the counter littered with dirty dishes, and a half-naked Alba singing into the spoon she was using to stir her risotto with. Earlier in the cooking process she had managed to douse herself with water from the sink, and she had just removed the night gown she'd been wearing, leaving it draped over the back of a chair. She'd meant to go get another one, honestly, but then the timer started going off, she'd misplaced her apple, and one thing had led to another.
"Are you stoned?" he asked her with disbelief.
"No! Well, maybe. Probably, definitely, yes," she said, pressing her hand to her mouth and giggling. The Doctor was staring at her now, which might have been just as much about the nudity as her bizarre behavior. It was hard telling, and the look he was giving her was undecipherable. The pot had instilled a sense of bravado in her that had not been there previously.
"So I guess you found the greenhouse then."
"Yes, I guess you could say I found the 'greenhouse', alright," she said, making air quotes around the word 'greenhouse'. She was only slightly miffed that he didn't seem happier to see her naked and cooking in the kitchen. He was probably mad about his stash.
"Okay. This is bad," he said, pulling his fingers through his hair. "At the moment I don't know how bad, but we're certainly three buses, a long walk, eight quid and a taxi from good."
"If it's any consolation, I am sorry. It just seemed like a good idea at the time. I've been so nauseous, and I knew I had to eat. I didn't know though that you apparently took botany lessons from Tommy Chong...I haven't been this high since...well, ever, actually,' she said, bursting into a fresh peal of laughter. The Doctor took her firmly by the arms, avoiding the places where she was bitten and bruised.
"Alba..Rose. Get it together. I know this is short notice, and believe me..you have no idea how unhappy I am about it. But two of the board members who sit on my trust committee are dropping by tonight for dinner, and I need you to be at least semi-coherent. They'll be here in less an hour."
"Less than an hour? Fuck dude, I hope you have stock in Febreeze…" she said, her sentence trailing off into titters. She broke free of his gasp, and opened the oven to check on the chicken. "Well, perfect timing on one point. The Simon and Garfunkel chicken will be done in about an hour, and maybe it's delicious aroma will cover up the fact that my good friend MJ was here to visit. I think I can pull it together long enough to play the role of doting wife, at least for an evening."
"Wait...what? Simon and Garfunkel chicken?" he asked, confused.
"Yeah, you know. I stuffed the bird with some lemon wedges, and then I seasoned it with salt and pepper, and parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme," she said, sing-songing the last bit. "Oh, and butter. And white wine. And I made four cheese risotto. So at least dinner is taken care of. Oh! And I made cake. Chocolate cake with raspberry buttercream."
"Right. Right...that's good," he said, pulling at his face in obvious frustration. "Well, go take a bath or something. And for Christ's sake, there's Visine floating around your room somewhere, find it and drop your eyes, please. I've brought you a new dress, something with long sleeves. I'll leave it for you to change into when you get finished bathing."
"Kay," she agreed. She turned to leave the kitchen, but before she did she pressed herself into his arms and wrapped her own arms around his neck. The gesture seemed to take him by surprise, and he went stiff before he finally allowed himself to relax a little and let his hands come to rest on her waist. She hugged him, and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. She felt him twitch through his trousers against her naked belly, and she smiled a little to herself.
If this was a cat and mouse game, then two could definitely play it.
"By the way...thanks for the lovely flowers," she said nonchalantly, skipping out of the kitchen, but not before she caught the look on his face. He was looking at her like she was a unicorn. He was impressed, but trying not to let on.
Alba tittered behind her hand all the way to her ensuite.
By the time she had emerged from her room, freshly bathed, dressed in a long-sleeved black dress, and significantly subdued, the Doctor had cleaned up most of the mess in the kitchen, lit a couple of scented candles, and was setting the table.
"I would've cleaned up," she told him, and he almost dropped the wine glass he'd been setting down.
"You scared me, I didn't hear you creep up there," he said.
"Hmm. I'm like a cat. Or a ninja. Maybe a ninja cat?" she posited.
"Alba…" he warned.
"Relax. Most of the...side effects have worn off now. Which is a shame. I forgot how horny smoking makes me," she said, and that time he did drop the wine glass he was holding, right as the doorbell rang. He shot her a look of consternation, and made to leave the kitchen.
"Think you can sweep that up?" he called to her over his shoulder.
"Of course, Sweetie!" she practically gushed back at him. She was prepared to lay it on thick, alright. Her's may have been an absurd brand of revenge, but seeing her get to him like this was much more rewarding than other methods.
Pain and pleasure, after all.
She picked up the broom, swept up the shards of the broken wine glass, and deposited the whole mess into the trash. She was standing on her tippy-toes, reaching into the cabinet to grab another wine glass, when the Doctor returned to the kitchen with two people, a young man with short blond hair who looked vaguely familiar for some reason, and an ambiguously older brunette woman, who was eying Alba contemptuously.
"Rose, my dear, this is my brother Harry and his lovely wife, Veranika," he said, his tone indicating that he thought otherwise of the older woman.
"Charmed, I'm sure," Veranika replied, making no efforts to hide her disdain. "You can call me Rani, if you like. I never felt like much of a Veranika myself."
"Pleased to meet you, Veranika," Alba replied, taking an immediate dislike to the other woman. She didn't know why, but something about her made Alba feel nervous and on edge, and she wasn't a big fan of the wolfish look the brother was giving her, either. She got the distinct impression that the two of them would eat her alive, if given the opportunity. She shuddered. Who'd have thought the Doctor would ever be the least creepy person in a room?
"We brought wine," Harry said, handing the bottle to his brother. The kitchen timer went off, and Alba took the oven mitts and retrieved the chicken. The skin looked perfectly browned, and she sighed with relief.
"Hmm. Looks delicious, dear," the Doctor said, coming up behind her. He planted a kiss in the crook of her neck, and she shivered as his lips brushed against her ear to whisper, "Just follow my lead and let me do the talking."
He pulled back and gave her a meaningful look, and she nodded her understanding at him. He squeezed her hand one, briefly, and then let it go so he could look for the corkscrew.
"So the kitchen, eh? What, didn't feel like getting the fine china out for us, brother?" Harry teased.
"Well, it's not as though you exactly gave me any notice. You announced it to me as we were leaving work that you two would be coming over to dinner tonight," the Doctor replied, not bothering to mask his irritation with his sibling.
"Well of course. You can't keep the lovely Rose all locked up and to yourself. You returned from New London a week ago and no one has laid eyes on her, besides Harkness, and he hardly counts," Harry snorted.
"Oh, don't be mad at John. That was all me. I was tired, from all the traveling and running around. I asked for just a few days to recuperate before we entertained any guests. You'll have to forgive me," she said with a smile, trying to figure out why the other man seemed so familiar to her. She just couldn't place him…
"John?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. He turned to look at his brother and smirked. "Is that what you've been calling yourself these days, you scamp?"
"Get bent, Harry," the Doctor replied mildly. "Wine?"
"Why the hell do you think we brought it with us?" Rani asked taking the bottle from his hands and topping off her glass. 'We needed something to make an evening with you bearable."
Ouch. It was obvious there was no love lost between this bunch, which just made the whole impromptu dinner engagement seem all the more inexplicable. Alba felt a strange protectiveness though for the Doctor, and she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her, and she was rewarded with one of those smiles that made her believe for just a moment that he was telling her the truth.
"I don't like them," she whispered in his ear, waiting until Harry had gone to fiddle with the music and Rani had excused herself to the loo.
"The feeling is entirely mutual, believe me. But you're doing fine, so just keep it up," he encouraged, letting his hand rest on the small of her back as he pulled her chair out for her.
He waited until Harry and Rani joined them at the table, and then began to carve the chicken. Alba admittedly tuned out a little, ignoring the quibbling that passed between the other three. She was still looking at Harry, wondering where she knew him from. It was one of those things where she was sure she'd feel stupid, once the answer became apparent, but it wasn't as though she could exactly ask him what he did for a living. Dinner finished without too much fanfare, cake and coffee was served, and then they retreated to the library for drinks. Alba sat next to her pretend husband-to-be on the loveseat and looked down at the floor, trying not to dwell on the act that had taken place there less than twenty-four hours previously. She had noticed at dinner that he'd only had one glass of wine, and there was barely an inch of scotch in the glass he was holding now. She realized she was relieved by this.
"Lovely arrangement there. But remorse? What could you have done that you needed to apologize for already? Rani asked the Doctor, a smirk on her face.
He started to answer, but Alba interjected sweetly. "Ah, but did you see the dog roses in there, too? Not just remorse, but pleasure and pain. He sent me flowers to apologize for causing me to lose out on sleep last night," she said, winking at him as she did.
Alba wished she could've captured the look on Rani's face when she said this. When Harry started guffawing and clapping his hand against his knee, the arrogant brunette swatted at him angrily and got up, muttering something about the lateness of the hour.
"I'll see you out," the Doctor said, leaping to his feet and walking with his brother and sister-in-law to the doorway of the library. Alba stayed behind, sipping her lemon water. The three of them formed a cluster out in the hallway, and though she could hear what sounded like angry whispering, the words were indistinct under the noise of the crackling fire. Finally, the trio moved out of the hallway, and a few short moments later she heard a door slam. She realized she still wasn't even sure where the front door of this place was-she had gotten distracted the last time she'd tried to explore. She also had almost no idea what they had all been talking about for the last few hours, seeing as she had been in her head for most of it. She heard the Doctor's returning footfalls, and she set her empty glass down on the table in anticipation.
"Alba, you were just brilliant!" he exclaimed giddily, grabbing her hands and pulling her up from the loveseat.
"Oh, it was nothing. Besides, we were united in our cause to piss off Rani, I think," she said with a smile.
He pulled her into his arms, lifted her and spun her around. She couldn't help but laugh, his enthusiasm was infectious. When he set her down on the floor, he brushed her hair away from her face and hesitated there.
"May I kiss you?" he asked, uncertainly.
Alba was taken by surprise. For all his talk about remembering who was master and who was slave, she was rather surprised that he was asking permission for something as simple as a kiss.
"You may," she told him, closing her eyes and leaning in, heart pounding. His lips pressed against her own were soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the hungry, lusty man who'd assaulted her mouth last night.
"Can we start over again? A re-do, if you will. I behaved a proper arse the other night..." he breathed into her mouth.
"You did," she agreed, pulling back to look at him. "But I suppose we can let bygones be bygones. I will humbly suggest that you are worlds more pleasant when you aren't sloshed, though. Forgive me for smoking your weed and almost ruining surprise dinner with your brother and banshee-in-law?"
"Forgiven," he said, tilting her head back up and claiming her lips with his own once more.
