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depicted to be gorgeous. A sight a few generations of few eyes got to see. Humanity of Valarie's time was lucky to have preserved what pieces they had. While Valarie herself may have enjoyed post-impressionistic art more, she certainly took up the Doctor's invitation to go to the renaissance. Valarie leaned on the console across from him as he worked out the logistics of where and when during the time period they would go. She pursed her lips, entertaining a thought.

"Won't we stick out?" The Doctor looked up, and scrunched his brow.

"Stick out? You didn't seem to worry about that before." He half chuckled, recalling on the time spent in Shakespearean England with her and Martha. She did stick out then, with her bright colored shirt, brightly colored shoes, and also the sheer fact she wore pants. When he gained no response he looked back up at her again. She looked as if he hadn't answered her question; which he hadn't. "Yes, we will. As always." He finally replied. She didn't respond, but only slowly stalked around the console as she dragged her finger tips on the metal rim. She leaned next to him on her elbows, propping her chin on her knuckles and kicked her shoes around like a child waiting to ask a parent for a new toy. He looked to her again.

"What?" He asked, feeling like he knew the nature of the ensuing conversation.

"The TARDIS has infinite rooms, or as you've told me and from what I've explored already. So could there possibly be anyway there is...-" He sighed and straightened out.

"If you are asking me if I have anything for you to wear, the answer is down the hall, two lefts, and the big doors on the right side. There will probably be something in there." He answered. She gave him a wide, toothy grin as she took off that way. She tore through the halls and practically dove into the room. Almost an hour went by before she emerged again. There was such an array of choices, but Valarie struggled for the right one. She just couldn't find one that satisfied her thoroughly. When she finally reemerged, just as he began to wondering to go after her as it seemed she was lost.

The dress itself fit her well. It wasn't as constricting as some of the ones she found that had very tight corsets. It was pale blue in color and contained some white accents. It reached the floor, the sleeves hung snugly in the top of the arms and looser the further down they went. It's neckline was the plunging and square, with the midsection of the dress also fitting snugly in classic renaissance fashion. It was elegant, and would blend right in with the crowd. She smiled at him once she entered.

"Well?" She asked, giving a little turn to give the full image. She wore her hair half up and half down, being unsure of what hairstyles she could do that would fit in. In a way, she saw the opportunity to dress like the elegant princess from stories and she took it. He looked up from the grated floor and his eyes laid on her.

"Well, uh," the smartest man Valarie had ever met tripped over his own words. He scratched the back of his head as she approached him. He smiled. "Beautiful. You'll fit right in with all that art work." She smiled.

"There were some tights back there you know, if you wanted to-"

"No." He said sternly, her cracking a laugh at how quickly he shot the idea down. He then offered her his arm. She linked hers with his.

"Ready?"

"Always." They lead to the door, opening it to a busy side walk. People rushed past them, not many checking up in the warm sunlight to gaze at the two new strangers. He shut the TARDIS doors behind them.

"So, where do you want to go? What do you want to see? When in Rome, well Venice actually, but you get my point." Valarie was taken back by the surroundings. They had arrived in what seemed a large square in the city, market stands made of wood stood with people offering goods. Fruits, vegetables, various meats and even livestock were for sale. She ended up pulling him along to the various booths, looking at all the options. Some even offered goods for free;everyone seemed to be slightly drunk, full of joy. Valarie received a fresh fig from a stand. She pulled it open, biting into the juicy fruit and humming in delight. She held a half up the Doctor's mouth, offering it. He rejected it at first, before finally taking a bite. Valarie held a hand under his mouth, laughing juice trickled from it and down his chin into her palm.

"See, if the fruit is that good what about everything else?" She asked. He hummed, still wiping his chin. "Some wine?" She teased. He raised his eyebrows.

"Now I may have to take you up on that one. But come on, we are in the pinnacle of human art! Paintings, building, statues are being made! Why don't we try to find them?" he asked, happy to see her eyes light up in response.

"You lead the way. You tend to forget that while you've probably been here a lot, this is shockingly my first time." She laughed. His eyes settled on a building, busy and bustling and an architectural masterpiece. He pointed a finger to it.

"I bet you if there's art, it is there."

__

The building looked like something of dreams. A gallery of creations. And as they were to be informed, it was owned by a single family. A wealthy, wealthy family that lived in the higher levels of the building. Valarie had admired the art work as the Doctor had, but her sights fell on a statue. One of a woman, laid across a marble bed as she slept. Valarie admired how however crafted the statue made it look so elegant, so soft, so real in nature. As she admired it, a presence came to her side.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" A unfamiliar male voice asked. Valarie looked to her side to see a man. He couldn't have been any older then twenty-three, and was handsome. He wore clothing that screamed wealth, with the gold pieces and accents. He looked to her, eyes ice blue and striking.

"Oh, yes. The statue is gorgeous." She replied.

"You know, my family owns this statue. In fact, everything that is art in here, everything that is beautiful, belongs to us." He revealed. Valarie looked to him with her mouth in a 'o' shape, shocked by how quickly he had to insert his status. Then again in this time frame, you were poor or rich, and nothing else. It was tragic, but the truth. He bowed to her, taking one of her clasped hands and kissing it for a little too long for her comfort, and then looked up to her eyes.

"Piero Moretti." The Doctor had only noticed Valarie's disappearance when he had finished a ramble and turned for her reaction. That was when he noticed her position in front of the sleeping woman statue, and the evident noble man trying to speak with her. The Doctor moved across the room interrupting the flow of Piero's attempted seduction just by his presence.

"Valarie, who is your friend?" He asked. Piero rose.

"This is Piero Moretti. His family owns this place." She told him with a smile, flattered by his interest. The Doctor offered his hand.

"Oh, hello! I'm the Doctor, and this is Miss Valarie Scott."

"Such, peculiar names." He hesitantly shook his hand, recoiling as quickly as he could. "A doctor you say?"

"Well, more of a name then a title." Valarie explained smiling. Piero nodded. As the small talk continued, chaos erupted. A man came stumbling in, seemingly drunk and yelling.

"Moretti!" He shouted as he approached them rapidly. The Doctor grabbed Valarie's shoulders, pulling her body flush against his and away from what was about to occur. The man, sweaty, and dirty, did in fact have the pungent odor of alcohol around him.

"Where is she? Where is my Marsilia?" He shouted. Piero did not budge. His face dropped and he looked at the drunk sympathetically.

"Oh, sir. Perhaps it is time you go home. I am unfamiliar with this Marsilia you speak of." The drunk seemed to think to himself for a second, almost as if perhaps he was just mistaken. He looked around at those who viewed him, before his eyes fell on the statue.

"Marsilia?" He asked looking up the sleeping woman statue. Piero called out for guards. They hurried in, taking the now fighting drunk away who screamed incomprehensible things. Piero ran a hand down his velvet clothing and cleared his throat.

"Pardon that. Drunks come in here often due to the openness of this place. But, if you haven't been scared away. I would like to invite you two to dinner with my family tonight. My family would enjoy meeting such lovers of the arts as ourselves, and such peculiar ones at that." The Doctor began to ramble off reasons it wasn't the best idea, but Piero remained insistent until Valarie agreed. He walked away, after informing them of the time and place to be to be brought into their home in the upper levels. The Doctor turned Valarie to him.

"He doesn't give me a good feeling."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure he's just a bit odd because he is from this time. The earlier you are born, the weirder you are." She laughed. The Doctor raised his eyebrows.

"I was born nearly nine hundred years before you."

"Yup, and you're a freak." She walked away trying to conceal her smile. The light-heartedness of the joke removed the uncertainty of the plans for the night from his mind mostly as he jogged to catch up with her again.

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The Moretti residence was more lavish then Valarie could have anticipated. It looked like an exquisite ball room that movies or show could do not possible justice too. The family had guards at every turn, and the two were promptly taken to the dining hall. They were seated next to each other, and informed the family would arrive shortly. Valarie sat comfortably in the chair as the Doctor's eyes looked around the room. Something just didn't sit right within him, about how quickly Piero had insisted they come.

From a large archway entered what was presumably the family. A older man with grey hair and a woman with streaks of grey and an aged face walked together, separating to take their seats at each head of the table. Then, an array of children from adults to young children joined them. The food was already been placed before them. Valarie grabbed a glass of presumably win and took a sip as she watched. Piero sat across from her and greeted her with a smile that faltered when he met the Doctor's harsher gaze. The head of the table, presumably the patriarch, cleared his throat.

"So, you two are the ones my son has told me of." He said. The Doctor nodded.

"Well, we welcome you. I am Amato, at the other end of the table is my wife, Chiarra." The woman waved her hand. She looked like the word elegance had taken form. The entire family was beautiful and attractive in nature. The large bunch introduced themselves.

The meal itself was delicious. Fresh and prepared by a chef who worked for the family. The talk was nothing but banter and small talk; questions of who Valarie and the Doctor were, where they hailed from, what they were doing here. Many of their answers were vague in nature and obviously uncertain, but the family didn't seem to mind. While the TARDIS translated the twos words into Italian for them, their accents were still thick and were comical for the family to listen to.

"So, my son says you are lovers of the arts as we are." The Doctor finished a drink and set his glass down.

"Oh, yeah. Whole point of the trip was to show her some fine art." He nodded along. Piero then took the reigns of the conversation.

"Oh, then why don't you two stay for two nights or so? We are unveiling a new central piece downstairs and I'm sure you two would absolutely adore it. Give us this honor." He urged, his eyes trained in solely on Valarie. She looked at him, his family, and then the Doctor. His eyes were wide and his smile gone - the classic 'something is wrong' face. She then stumbled over her words and she looked back.

"Uh, I suppose we will." He seemed overjoyed at the confirmation. The Doctor made a mental note to speak with Valarie about her choice later, in private.

After the dinner concluded the two were shown to a guest quarter by a servant, who informed them of spare clothing for sleeping in the room. Once the door shut Valarie began rummaging in the dresser for the nightgown. The Doctor watched her with crossed arms.

"What was that?" He asked her sternly.

"What was what?" She replied.

"Oh, don't start that. The agreeing to stay here, to even come to this dinner. Something isn't right here."

"And why do you think that?"

"That Piero guy. I don't like how insistent he is. How he keeps trying to get you to-"

"So you're jealous is what I'm hearing?" She looked over her shoulder at him. He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"No, maybe I'm just worried we've walked right into something. I know you love running head first into danger but-"

"What is your problem?" She stood straight and looked at his with a angry expression. She was taken back by his suddenness.

"My problem?" He replied with raised eyebrows. She wadded the nightgown up and slammed it on the dresser as she approached him, knuckles white as she grabbed her dress.

"Yes! What is your problem with me?" When his expression changed to genuine confusion she began to rant, losing control of the words that poured out of her mouth. "Sometimes it's like I'm the only person in the universe to you, and sometimes it's like you can't get away from me fast enough. Every time I try to get you to notice you just shrug and move on."

"Notice what?" He stepped closer to her. In return she stepped back.

"Me! I feel like you just see me as some kid, like you're some babysitter. I mean you're whole charade six months ago, dumping me off with barely a goodbye and to say it was for my own good? Are you sure it wasn't because you were tired of me?!" Her face was bright red and flushed. She was getting worked up, and now refused to make eye contact with him. He continued to stride towards her forcing her further back.

She looked him in the eye finally, emotions desperately evident in them but he couldn't pin point what exactly. He couldn't peel his eyes away from her, not even in the shame he felt for leaving. The gown, her hair a curled mess, the redness of her cheeks from trying not to cry and the wine the family had fed her. He couldn't look away.

"And how cryptic you are, now everything you say to me is a mixed signal! I try to send as many as I could and then when I gave up and decided to hide everything you started saying things and looking at me a certain way sometimes. Even your body language drives me insane! Sometimes you are too far away and sometimes you are so close to me it takes all I can muster not to just lean into you and!-"

"And what?" He asked approaching her, voice lowered then her yelling tone. She backed away from him, backing into the deep brown wooden footboard of the bed. Her back tilted only slightly as he drew terribly close

"And I just want to, to...to......" they drew to terribly close. Then it was like the rope snapped and she pulled him to her, pressing her lips firmly against his. She wrapped a arm around his neck, another looping under his arm and grasping the fabric of his coat. One arm found her waist and secured her position while the other balanced against the footboard. The emotions had snapped and been released into the air like a vapor and they were becoming drunk off of them.

Minutes went by before the door to the room opened, Piero stepping in again to the sight of the two entrapped in the kiss. They stopped with the startled voice, looking down in embarrassment at being caught. He held another drink in his hand.

"Oh, oh I'm sorry." He turned his head away.

"Yes, Piero?" She finally asked out of breath.

"I came to bring you this, but I guess now is the time to inform you that men and women have separate quarters. Doctor, I'll show you were you'll be staying." The Doctor released her from his grasp, straightening himself back out and looking down at her. He smiled at her coyly for only a second before turning and allowing Piero to show him off.

The door shut and Valarie was alone. She looked down at herself and the position she still held, her mind racing a mile a minute. She changed into the nightgown, sitting on the bed and letting her hair fully down as she thought about what just happened. She didn't regret that moment for a second.

There was a knocked at the door again, and Piero poked his head back in. He smiled, and approached her. He took a seat next to her on her bed.

"I just wanted to give this. It's a tradition within my family; for your health." He offered her the glass of wine. She smiled and took it, and began to drink it. "You'll need to finish if." He told her when she stopped halfway. She hesitantly finished the glass, handing it back to him.

"Good, good." He seemed delighted with her drinking it. He stopped looking upon her face again.

"I wanted to tell you this earlier, but your Doctor friend kept intervening. You, my lady, look like you belong within a museum." He smiled. She could barley thank him before he left the room. Valarie looked at her hands, noting the strangeness only now that the Doctor was most likely talking about. She crawled under the covers, pulling them up and hoping to the sleep it away. Her eyes became heavy, and she slipped into the deep slumber with him being the last thing she thought of.