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Air Raid Serenade

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Rose had watched World War II movies about the Blitz: Mum was fond of them since they reminded her of her Da, who had been a soldier back then. But here she was, living it, in the middle of an air raid, dangling from a barrage balloon, and hoping the shells bursting around her did not hit the fragile craft she was hanging onto for dear life.

And just like in a movie, that was when he had showed up, a bloke who practically had "hero" on a badge pinned to his sleeve, getting her out of that mess. Just as she was about to fall, he caught her, not in his arms but in a tractor beam, of all things. Fair enough: a rescue was a rescue and after hanging there, her shoulders screaming with pain and the palms of her hands burning from the rope, she was not about to quibble about the method he employed to get her out of there.

And you were not about to quibble with anyone whose voice sounded like that. It simply glowed with cockiness and assertiveness, the kind of voice you wanted to hear issuing orders, like the voice of a noble young captain in a war movie. She could not help wanting to meet the young man behind that voice, the welcome interloper with the alien technology that had gotten her out of this scrape.

And the promise of a nice looking bloke to match that voice did not go unfulfilled. He had the dark good looks to match the voice and he had them in spades.

He had the kind of looks you saw on stars in old black and white movies: elegant but rugged, the kind of man who could fight through a swarm of enemies, but could also look awesome in a tuxedo and be at ease wearing it. And yet he had the kind of boyish prettiness you found in more recent heartthrobs, like Leonardo DiCaprio and that dark-haired skinny kid who was in that weird costume drama on the Beeb a few years back.

An invisible ship. How much better could it get? The TARDIS could go anywhere and anywhen, but it looked odd on the outside. This looked like the sort of thing you thought of when someone said the words "spaceship" or "alien technology". The more thus chap revealed to her, the more she found herself smitten with him. The Doctor was a dear, make no mistake, but she doubted she would ever get the chance to dance with him.

An invisible spaceship, parked in front of the clock face of Big Ben. He could not have chosen a more romantic view for their first dance, a slow dance to the mellow sound of Glenn Miller.

He was not the sort of guy she could bring home to Mum -- though, there again, she had a feeling Mum would appreciate a looker like him, and he would likely have a few charming words for her as well (a thought that somehow did not seem creepy in the least) -- and he had that air about him which a Boone and Mills novel would call "rakish" or "rougish", but that only added to his appeal. He could very easily model as a highwayman or a highland warrior on the cover of a bodice ripper -- and if she was the type who wore a bodice, she wouldn't mind him ripping it off.