Title from this chapter comes from the song "Not With Haste" by Mumford & Sons.

Friday, November 15, 2013

Though her alarm had yet to ring, Rose was already awake and readying herself. She'd been able to drift off for a few hours, but her mind was still whirling with snippets of images, words, and emotions. There were periods where the flurry of activity slowed, but it never completely dissipated. Instead of lying awake and staring into the darkness, Rose had rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, turning on the shower; that was where she was currently.

She had long since washed, and was now allowing the near scalding water to massage her aching muscles, the billowing steam to envelope her in a warm cocoon. As the water cascaded over her, Rose finally managed to push aside her thoughts and allow her mind to go blank. It required a tremendous amount of effort; and even though it was a marginal amount, it was the first moment of real relaxation she'd experienced in the last two days, and she was infinitely grateful for it.

However, as she continued to stand under the spray, something Donna had said last night began to prod at her. When Rose had informed Donna of her leaving, Donna had suggested that she was running away.

Am I?

At the time, Rose had denied it; and in all honesty, she had believed her own words. But, the more she thought about it, the more Rose could see that there was an underlying truth she hadn't acknowledged. In part, she was running. Yes, she felt she needed a breather; but she also couldn't deal with the pain of staying. The thought of running into Ian—though the odds were unknown—and facing the fact he wanted nothing to do with her was almost frightening. And Rose…well, she just couldn't risk it.

"Rose," Donna hollered, pounding on the locked door, "You've been in there for ages, and you're runnin' outta time."

Having been snapped back into reality, Rose poked her head out of the shower curtain. "Alright, alright," she hollered back, turning off the faucet and grabbing her towel. Swiftly drying off, Rose pulled on her jeans and pink jumper, and began drying her hair. She planned on just doing the bare minimum that morning. It was over an eight hour flight; it would be nonsense to dress to the nines.

Emerging from the bathroom twenty minutes later, Rose searched and found Donna sitting on the sofa, nursing her morning cup of coffee. Rose sat next to her, grabbing the waiting mug off the table and taking a long sip.

"Are you absolutely certain you wanna go?"

Rose could hear the slight forlornness in Donna's question. Though the long separation saddened her, Rose's mind was decided.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she answered with a warm smile.

"Fine," Donna huffed, taking another swig of coffee. "But you better bloody well call me or text me every day!"

"Like I need that reminder!"

They chatted for a good fifteen minutes before there was a knock at the door. Knowing that it was Jake and Sally, Rose placed her cup on the coffee table and answered the door. Hellos were exchanged, and Jake and Sally grabbed Rose's luggage and left to load it into the car. Rose pulled on her blue leather jacket just before Donna pulled her into a fierce embrace.

"I'll phone as soon as we get there, m'kay?"

"You better."

They broke apart, both misty eyed, and Rose waved a final goodbye. She walked to the waiting vehicle, and climbed into the backseat.

"Ready?" Jake asked, looking into the rearview mirror.

Rose nodded. "I just need to make a quick stop beforehand."

"Where?"

She took a breath and silently released it.

They're not going to like this…

"I don't like this," Jake grumbled, his hand tightening on the steering wheel.

"Me neither," Sally agreed.

Jake's nostrils flared as he blew a harsh breath. They were currently waiting in the car outside Ian's office building while Rose ran inside, never telling them her reason for stopping. Both he and Sally were vocally opposed to the idea, but Rose was unyielding and fierce in her determination. There was no arguing the point with her.

"We shouldn't even bloody be here. What's she thinking?"

"I dunno, Jake," she sighed, "But there's nothing we can do 'bout it now. And, at least it's too early for there to be a problem. I doubt she'll run into him."

Jake snorted with contempt, running his hand over his head, effectively ruffling his hair. There were a few beats of silence before Sally spoke again.

"I don't understand what happened between those two. I know she's in love with 'im, and I coulda sworn he was with her. Or, at the very least, fancied her."

Whipping his head around, Jake's eyes widened and then narrowed a few times, as if his brain was shorting out. Finally, something clicked into place, and Jake found his voice.

"What makes y'think Rose's in love with 'im? I never heard her say anythin' like that!"

Sally smiled as she good-naturedly rolled her eyes at him. "She never said the words 'I love him,' but it wasn't hard to spot. The way she looked at him, the way she smiled when he looked at her. I mean, c'mon, Jake—have you ever seen Rose act the way she's been acting the past week?"

Jake didn't need any length of time to answer. "Not once."

Sally nodded in agreement. "She didn't have to say the words; her actions showed it."

Their gazes continued to be fixed on each other, and they could both sense something in the mood had changed. Suddenly Jake blinked and turned his eyes away. Only a few seconds of silence passed before Jake nervously cleared his throat.

"So you can tell when someone fancies someone else?"

Sally whirled her head to look at him, but found his eyes were looking everywhere but at her. Feeling a heat flush her cheeks, she turned her eyes back and downward.

"Usually. It's…," she trailed off, suddenly twirling a loose string from her sweater around her finger. "Well, gettin' them to fess up to it is another thing."

Neither of them dared look at each other after that exchange, both too nervous and uncertain about how to proceed. Fortunately for them, Rose suddenly reappeared and got into the backseat.

"M'kay. Let's go."

Clearing his throat one more time for good measure, Jake put the car into gear and headed for the airport. Though there was still some awkwardness between Sally and Jake, they managed to put it aside, and the three friends gabbed as per usual.

Finally, they arrived at Gatwick, and Jake pulled the car over to let them out. After the luggage had been unloaded, they began their goodbyes. Jake pulled Rose into a tight hug.

"Gonna miss ya, sweets," he said, kissing her temple. "Don't get any ideas 'bout staying over there, ya hear me?"

Rose squeezed him a bit tighter. "Not a chance," she assured him, pulling back and kissing his cheek.

Jake turned from her, and moved towards Sally, pulling her into a hug. When they pulled back, Sally smiled somewhat bashfully.

"See ya soon."

He nodded, but said nothing. They stood there, silently staring at one another.

"Oh, sod it all," he growled, grabbing Sally's arm and fiercely pulling her to him, crashing his lips against hers.

Rose's eyes nearly bugged out of her head in surprise. Not surprise at his affections, but the way he chose to express them. She couldn't help the loud guffaw that escaped her before she threw her hand over her mouth.

All of a sudden, Sally yanked back—her eyes wide and lips swollen—and smacked Jake's arm.

"What in God's name was that?"

Jake's mind and mouth began to stutter, confusion and embarrassment taking over him.

"I-I…"

Before he could actually say anything, Sally grabbed his shirt and jerked him back to her, returning his earlier kiss with a ferocious and thorough snog of her own. At that point, Rose could not contain herself, and she burst into hysterics. After a solid two minutes, Jake and Sally showed no signs of slowing, and Rose thought it time to break up the happy couple, especially in light of the catcalls and whistling from observers.

Clearing her throat as loud as humanly possible, Rose hollered, "M'kay. Plenty of time for all that later. We've sorta got a flight to catch."

Finally coming up for air, both of them turned and grinned sheepishly at her before turning to face each other once more.

"You've got bloody awful timing, y'know that?" Sally giggled.

"Better late than never, yeah? Just think of it as motivation to come back," he grinned.

Offering him a brilliant grin of her own, Sally placed a quick peck to his lips and grabbed her bags. Rose and Sally waved goodbye and left to catch their flight.

"Nice little show you put on back there. Y'shoulda sold tickets," Rose teased.

Sally bit her lip to hide her grin before putting on a weak frown.

"Oh, shut it…"

Cathica looked up from her computer and glanced at the time—a quarter 'til noon. Normally, she took lunch closer to 12:30, but she had an errand to run and needed the extra time. Interpreting Ian's apology as a positive sign of change, Cathica stood from her desk and knocked on his office door, opening it just a tad.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Cathica?" he asked, sparing a brief glance from his consuming workload.

"I was hoping to take an early lunch. I have an errand to run, and I th-…"

"That's fine, Cathica. Take as much time as you need," Ian assured her, offering a small smile before returning his focus back to his work.

"Thank you, Mr. Smith," Cathica responded happily.

Though he couldn't see the smile she was giving him, he could no doubt hear it in her tone. She hurried back to her desk and grabbed her purse. She had just made to open the door, when she noticed the package she'd failed to give to Ian. Picking it up, she walked back into his office.

"Sorry, Sir. The front reception gave this to me on my way in. Someone dropped it off to them this morning."

"Thanks. You can just sit on the desk. I'll look at it later."

With a small nod of acknowledgement, she placed the book on the edge of the desk and quickly exited.

As the main door closed, Ian let out a tired sigh and scrubbed his face. Not only was he behind in his caseload, but his job was made ten times harder by the fact that his computer was out of commission. It wasn't a technical difficulty; no, Ian was well aware that someone had tampered with it. It wasn't a hard conclusion to draw when every time he clicked the mouse, a stream of random YouTube videos began playing; or, that every ten minutes, a loud blaring horn would sound from the speakers; or, that when he pressed certain characters on the keyboard, various words popped up on screen, such as wanker, bloody git, and several others that Ian had never before heard.

Ian had strong suspicions as to who the culprit was, suspicions that were confirmed by Cathica's description of the two men who she found leaving the office. Though he was extremely aggravated and upset with the situation, he couldn't blame Mickey and Jake for taking some form of revenge against him. No doubt they were aware, at least in part, of what happened between him and Rose.

For the umpteenth time that morning, Ian's thoughts were drawn to Rose. He missed her, plain and simple. He missed seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, inhaling her scent. The memories alone were nowhere near enough for him. But for every pleasurable memory, there was another of their horrid last encounter. The look on her face, the pain in her eyes matching his own, the strangled sob. Each time he remembered, Ian felt his heart tighten. That feeling only intensified after he learned that Rose had known everything. She'd known and had kept silence.

As his memories started to run rampant was again, Ian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing yet another long sigh. While he did so, he heard the sound of his door opening. He opened his eyes, and instantly felt his stomach plummet. Standing before him was Pete Tyler.

As if on instinct, Ian rose to his feet, staring wide eyed at the man. Neither of them spoke a word as they regarded each other. Not waiting or caring for an invitation, Pete walked in and sat down in one of the chairs directly in front of Ian's desk. Ian remained standing, shocked and unsure of what to do. Pete wordlessly stared at him, his features expressionless and his gaze focused and penetrating. Lifting a finger, he gestured for Ian to sit, which he did without question.

Ian couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as Pete continued to keep his piercing eyes centered on him, almost as if he had been transported back to father-in-law's office. And just as he had then, Ian felt incredibly unnerved. He couldn-…

"I didn't particularly care for you when we first me," Pete said suddenly, his voice halting Ian's train of thought.

"Oh…" Ian was aware it was hardly an intelligent response, but it was honestly the best he could manage.

"And, to be perfectly frank, I'm even less than fond of you now. I think you know why."

Shame settled over Ian because yes, he did know why; he knew and it literally hurt his heart. His lips parted as he went to respond, but closed them as he thought better of it. Instead, Ian simply nodded.

Pete reciprocated with a nod of his own. "I thought as much," he said quietly. There was a slight pause before he spoke again. "So, am I correct in thinking that you're wondering why I didn't care for you at that first meeting?"

"I am," Ian confirmed. He genuinely was interested. From what he remembered, he was quite certain that he had been friendly; at least, friendlier than his acquired norm.

"When we were first introduced, I couldn't figure out why you were there. It was obvious that you didn't really know the majority of us; but, I quickly realized that there was someone you did know quite well—my daughter…"

The tone Pete used when emphasizing the last two words made Ian squirm just a tad. In that tone, Pete made it abundantly clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was not a man with whom to trifle.

"Naturally, that meant that you had my complete attention. And while you did interact with everyone at times, I found you to be somewhat standoffish. You were never completely present, almost as if you were trying to hide something."

Once again, Ian found himself squirming in this man's presence. "I wasn-…that is, I d-…" He wanted to form some sort of rebuttal, but he knew that there was nothing he could refute. Pete was right; he realized that now.

"But there was something else I saw, and that was how Rose was with you…and how you were with her. I saw how you both would look at one another when the other wasn't looking. And then when we all realized you had run off…well, that especially caught my notice. Rose has never shown that type of interest in anyone. Not once.

"Seeing you two together, seeing that something was definitely going on between you two…I couldn't understand it., still don't, to be honest. And it…well, it took a lot of restraint on my part to not say somethin' to both of you, to not dig up every small detail on the man that my daughter had fallen for. And I'm sure you know I could have managed that very easily with the people I have working for me, considering what they were able to do with your computer there," Pete said with a confident smirk.

Ian's eyebrow instantly arched. "You had them do that?"

"No," Pete shook his head, "But they weren't able to keep it hidden from me for long, considering I found them practically cackling about it when they came into work. Although, I have to admit, it was rather amusing," he finished with a small chuckle.

"Amusing's not exactly the word I'd go with," Ian replied, "but it was impressive how clever they were."

"They're incredibly talented…," Pete's eyes became piercing once more, "They are also incredibly loyal and protective of their family, as am I."

Sighing, Ian leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, one coming up to rub his forehead.

"So…I take it that means you know," Ian said wearily, dropping his hand and meeting Pete's gaze.

At this, Pete mimicked Ian's earlier action and leaned back in his chair. "That depends. What are you referring to?"

"Is that some sort of joke?" Ian asked incredulously, an eyebrow arced high.

"Do I look to be in a joking mood, Ian?" Pete asked pointedly.

"Well, what exactly am I supposed to think when you…," Ian trailed off, refusing to allow himself to become angry with the man. "I was referring to what happened between me and Rose. What I-…what I said the last time…the last time we saw each other."

"I have a general idea."

"She…Rose didn't tell you?" Ian asked in marked surprise.

"Does that sound like something she would do?"

"I wouldn't blame her if sh-…"

"No," Pete interjected swiftly, straightening his posture and leaning forward. "That' not what I asked you, Ian. What I asked you was, does that sound like Rose. Do you think—knowing her as I'm certain you do—that she would run off at the mouth about something that was obviously a deeply personal matter between you two?"

Looking back on his life with Rose, on her actions in this and the other reality, Ian knew she would not broadcast what happened between them. After all, she'd known about the horror that had happened to him and his family, and yet she had never once divulged it.

"No, she wouldn't," Ian said, his voice low yet firm. There was a brief pause and then Ian spoke again. "Pete-…," Ian saw him tense, "Mr. Tyler, why exactly are you here?"

Pete took a breath and exhaled slowly, as if gearing himself up for the coming words. "I may not know details about what happened with you two, but I do know this: I have never seen my daughter like the way she is now. And you have no idea what that's like for a father, to see your child in pain, and be completely useless…"

He trailed off as his voice became tight with emotion. Shutting his eyes for the briefest of moments, Pete collected himself and continued.

"I may not be able to take her pain away, to fix it…but, you can."

Ian felt a familiar tightness in his chest. "Mr. Tyler, I don't think I ca-…"

"Do you love her?"

Pete's direct and unexpected question knocked the wind out of Ian. It took concerted effort for him to formulate words.

"It's not that sim-…"

"Do you love her?" Pete asked again, halting Ian's response.

"She deserves m-…"

Pete moved forward, sitting on the edge of his seat, his eyes focused intently on the young man in front of him.

"Do you love her?"

Ian held Pete's gaze as his mind warred within him, but it was a losing battle. Instead of giving an answer, he told the truth.

"More than anything."

His words caused Pete's eyes to soften ever so slightly. "Then don't push her away. I don't know if you think you're somehow protecting her or what not, but believe me, all you're doing is hurting you both. Pushing someone away doesn't prevent pain, it causes it. She…she needs you just as much as you need her."

Whatever trace air had lingered in his lungs, immediately vanished at Pete's words. Ian felt his heart stop and then accelerate as he realized that Pete had already spoken these words to him—when he was in the other reality, after he and Rose had left hospital. His mind began to whirl with memories of that day, followed by all the other days. He desperately tried to make sense of an impossible happening. Could it really be…

"Well," Pete said, standing, "I think I've stayed long enough."

He turned to leave, but halted as his eyes skimmed over the package on Ian's desk. He looked back at Ian, his brow creasing.

"Was Rose here?"

"No, she wasn't. Why would you think she had been?" Ian asked in equal confusion.

Pete pointed to the lettering on the package. "'Cause that's her handwriting. I'd recognize it anywhere."

Ian's eyes widened in shock before turning their attention to the package. Realizing that Ian was truly in ignorance, Pete simply nodded.

"Well, I'll leave you to it." Without another word, Pete turned and walked out.

Ian couldn't tear his focus off of the object on his desk, nor could he will his feet to move. What could she have possibly given him? And why would she want to?

It was then that he realized he had moved, his hands now gripping the package. His fingertips faintly traced the name written—C. Smith.

Tearing back the brown paper, Ian's jaw slacked and he braced his weight on the desk, completely in shock. In his hands was his father's leather-bound copy of Shakespeare. He vaguely remembered taking it with him into the park, but in the aftermath of everything, Ian had completely forgotten about it.

A small, folded piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Placing the book back on the desk, he bent down and picked up the fallen paper, opening it.

Even though it was for one fleeting moment, it was worth every heartache…always will be.

Rose

His thoughts instantly went to their 'rebellious' stroll, and the conversation they had shared. When he'd spoken his father's words to her. When she had taken his hand. When her lips gently caressed his check. When he'd told her his name.

As he recalled the details, a multitude of emotions rushed over Ian, love being the predominate one. All-consuming love for this woman who inexplicably knew him, knew his demons, and yet loved him still. And he didn't just want her, he needed her. Needed her as he needed air. It was essential.

It was that fundamental truth that had him dropping everything and racing out the room to find his Rose.

Donna did her level best to mince garlic and not be worried about Rose; and she had been doing quite impressive. That is until Lynda came scurrying into the kitchen, her eyes wide and uncertain, and already babbling away.

"Okay, he's back, and I'm not sure what I'm s'posed to do. He's not upset or yellin', but I'm not certain what's goin' on. He says he needs to talk to you, and he's all sweaty and panting, like he was runnin' some sorta race. An' h-…"

"Lynda!" Donna stopped her, "I have no clue what you're talking about. So, in five words or less, tell me plainly what's goin' on."

Lynda looked upward, choosing the most relevant five words. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Donna, and counting with her fingers, said, "Skinny, pinstriped man wants you."

Lynda had no sooner finished speaking, when Donna's eyes began to blaze. She stormed out of the kitchen, and seconds later, she was back, dragging Ian Smith behind her. She whirled around to face him, just as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Oi!" she hollered, "No one here said y'could open your bloody gob, so I suggest you shut it!"

It was clear Ian desperately wanted to say something, but he obeyed and closed his mouth.

"That's better! You hurt Rose, my best friend in the world. Hurt her so much she won't talk to anyone 'bout what's goin' on. Not really, at least. Do ya have any idea how much that infuriates me?! That some stupid prat broke her heart, and now that same prat waltzes into my shop?!"

Ian continued to remain silent, which only seemed to anger Donna even more.

"Well?!"

"You told me to shut it," Ian defended.

"But then I asked you a bleedin' question," she snapped.

"You're a very confusing woman," Ian grumbled, rubbing his temples.

"And you're a bloody wanker!" Donna countered hotly, "Still doesn't explain what you're doin' here, now does it?"

"I need to see Rose."

Donna snorted and barked laughter. "Oh, that's rich! You're a right nutter if y'think that's ever gonna happen!"

"Donna, please!" Ian begged, running his hand through his hair. "I went to her flat, but no one answered. I went to the bakery, and there was a note posted saying it would be closed for three weeks. I know you know where she is. Like you said, she's your best friend. Please!"

Ian's sincere pleading took her completely by surprise. There was a desperate look in his eyes as he spoke. Despite her better judgment (and the strong urge to demonstrate her exceptional knife skills), Donna decided to delve further.

"Give me one reason why I should even entertain the idea of tellin' you anythin'," she demanded, crossing her arms.

"Because you're right! I was an utter wanker to Rose. I royally screwed up, and I hurt her. And it kills me to know that! To know that I broke her heart, to know that she shed tears over me. But I have to see her. She has every right to hate me, but I can't go another day without her knowing the truth—that I love her."

Donna knew her eyes were bulging clean out of her skull, but it was unavoidable. That was not what she had expected. She cleared her throat to regain her composure.

"You can't see her…," she started softly.

Ian stepped towards her in urgency. "Donna, please! I-…"

"You can't see her," Donna cut in, "because she's not here. She's gone."

His heart plummeted. "What do you mean? Where is she?"

"New York. She and Sally left early this morning. That's why the bakery's closed for three weeks."

Ian closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. She wasn't supposed to leave. He couldn't let her slip through his fingers…he wouldn't.

"Donna…please. I-…I need her."

She blinked at him several times before sighing and grabbing a tablet and pen. After scribbling several things, she tore the paper in half, holding them out to him.

"This one is her mobile," she gestured with her right hand, "and this one," she gestured with her left, "is the address where they're stayin'. So…just how badly do you need her?"

Ian locked his eyes with hers before making his choice and taking one of the papers. Donna cocked an eyebrow in slight surprise at his decision. He turned to leave, but then stopped and pulled her into a quick and awkward hug.

"Alright, alright. Don't go gettin' all touchy-feely."

He couldn't help but give a small chuckle. "Thank you, Donna."

Ian ran out the restaurant, the paper firmly clutched in on one hand as he hailed a cab with the other. As the black car pulled over for him, he threw open the door and climbed in.

"Where to, mate?" the cabbie asked, looking up into the mirror.

Looking back at him, Ian said one word.

"Heathrow."