Rose carefully dropped three pound coins into the large collecting box at the entrance to the British Museum. Her mum tutted.

"What d'you want to go and do that for? You don't have to pay."

"It's a donation," Rose pointed out. 'They suggest you make one." Jackie raised disbelieving eyes towards the huge domed ceiling.

"That's only for people who haven't been dragged here against their wills on a Sunday morning." Rose laughed and exchanged a look with Mickey and Peter.

"You didn't have to come, Mum." Jackie tossed back her long blonde hair.

"You think I was going to stay behind? It's a surprise, Mickey said. Come and see, Mickey said. You'll never believe it. Mind you, things I've seen, can't imagine what I'm not going to believe, but –"

"You're right," Rose interrupted. "I didn't really expect you to stay behind. Come on. Let's get on with it, then."

As Mickey moved off, Peter following his lead, Rose looked around for the fifth member of their party, but the Doctor had already vanished into one of the galleries. Shrugging, she walked off anyway, also following Mickey's lead. Mickey had been really excited to see her this time – even more than usual. Because he had a surprise for her. A huge surprise. An unbelievable surprise. And they were on their way to see it They passed the marble lion that gazed on the museum's Great Court with hollow, sorrowful eyes. "He looks so sad," Rose said.

"You'd be miserable if you'd been stuck in a museum for –" Jackie bent down to read the little plaque beneath the statue – "Nearly two and a half thousand years". Rose didn't point out that the museum hadn't been around for anywhere near that long, because she knew her mum knew it anyway. But she understood what Jackie meant.

She had a sudden wave of illogical pity for the carved creature, frozen for ever due to a sculptor's whim over two millennia ago. Jackie was still looking at the lion. "Two and a half thousand years," She said again. "That's even older than him." 'Him', Rose knew, was the Doctor. "Hey, why doesn't he get wrinkles? I mean, However many hundred years, even with the new body, got to do something to the skin. Free radicals and all that. I bet we're not the only planet with pollution. Can you find out what he uses? Make a fortune, he could."

"This is the Doctor we're talking about, not Dad." Rose rolled her eyes. "He's no salesman." Mickey was beckoning them, and they left the statue and headed on. There was the Doctor in the Egyptian gallery, examining the Rosetta Stone.

"It was a right pain when they found this," He said, giving a little wave as they passed.

"Were you involved? Or were you just passing through?" Peter chuckled. The Doctor grinned back.

"I didn't mean for it to kick off. There I was, just about to launch my English-hieroglyphic dictionary, when along come Napoleon's soldiers and the bottom falls out of the market."

"There. Not a salesman," Rose said to her mother. "Told you." She waved back, then they headed down a flight of steps and round a corner, Mickey never hesitating, as if he knew the way by heart. They passed rows of carved Roman heads, hundreds of sightless eyes watching their progress. Then there were some sarcophagi, and a giant stone foot that seemed almost too comedic to be in such a serious place as a museum. Then they came to a row of statues, sculpted human forms, some headless, some armless, but all possessed of a shining white dignity despite their misfortunes. Mickey stopped.

"There you are," He said. He was grinning, a dog who'd just fetched her a stick and was waiting for a grateful response. Rose looked at the statue in front of her, a marble priestess with a veil. It was lovely, but not all that exciting. Then Jackie gasped.

"Oh, my God. I don't believe it!" Rose transferred her gaze to the next sculpture along. And she gasped too. It was a perfect stone replica – of herself. And, according to its sign, it was nearly 2,000 years old. Once Rose had recovered from the initial shock of finding a statue of herself in the British Museum, she got quite excited.

"That's brilliant!" She said. "You realise what this means? We must be off to" – she checked – ,"second-century Rome. How brilliant is that?"

"Blimey," Said a voice from behind. "Reminds me of a girl I once knew. Wonder whatever happened to her." The Doctor had caught up with them and he gave Rose a smile that could probably melt even a marble statue. She grinned at him.

Jackie was reading the sign under the sculpture.

"Here, it says it's a statue of the goddess Fortuna," She said. "Don't tell me I've given birth to a god. Howard'll never believe it."

"Fortuna, Roman goddess of good luck," The Doctor told her. "Portrayed with a cornucopia."

"Says here it's a horn of plenty," Said Jackie. The Doctor looked amused. The Rose figure was indeed cradling a cornucopia, overflowing with stone fruit and flowers, in the crook of one arm. The other arm was no longer whole, a wrist stump gesturing redundantly at the group gathered round it. Rose held up her own two hands. "I hope that wasn't done from life," She said.

"We must be heading there soon though," Said Peter, "She's wearing your earrings."

Rose took off one to compare. It was a flat silver disc with a spiral pattern radiating out from a tiny flower in the centre. She held it up by the statue's ear. Identical, even down to the flower.

"That's incredible," She said. "It's so detailed." She slipped the real earring into the pocket of her denim jacket and grinned. "Looks like I've got a future ahead of me as an artist's model!

I've always fancied that." Mickey frowned.

"When my mate Vic asked you to pose for him, you said no." Rose sighed.

"Yeah, but lying on a sheepskin rug in my undies while your mate Vic takes photos isn't quite the same as posing as a goddess for some ancient Roman." The Doctor had put on his glasses and was examining the statue's remaining hand.

"Hmm," He said.

"What's up?" Peter asked.

"Statue's wearing Rose's ring too." Rose looked down at the ring on her right hand.

"If he's wearing my earrings, why not?" The Doctor frowned.

"They often made the torsos separately – mass-produced them, then just stuck on a head. Obviously the sculptor was so enamoured of your figure that you got to be the model for the whole thing."

"And is that so hard to understand?" asked Rose, raising an eyebrow. The Doctor swung round and gave her a disarming grin.

"I'm sure it isn't." Rose found it quite hard to tear herself away from her stone double, but as the Doctor pointed out, if she stayed there looking at it for ever, then it would never get made and they'd all be swallowed up in a terrible paradox. So she allowed herself be led away, past the giant foot – "Ah, my fault," the Doctor commented. "The last remains of the Ogre of Hyfor Three. Silicon-based life form. I defeated it back in, oh, must be AD two hundred and something. There was me: take that, you evil ogre! And there was it: ha, ha, you'll never defeat me! And there was me: don't be so sure about that. . ."

"It says it's from a colossal acrolithic statue," Mickey pointed out hurriedly.

"Well, they would say that," said the Doctor – past the sarcophagi, past the rows of stone heads, their gazes now seeming to signify kin-ship to Rose. They lost the Doctor in the Egyptian section again, and Jackie went off to see if she could find a postcard of her stone daughter. Rose, Mickey and Peter stood together in the entrance, waiting.

"So, how'd you find out about it?" Asked Peter after a few moments silence. "Not your usual haunt, this, is it?" Mickey seemed embarrassed, looking down at the floor. Rose opened her eyes wide. 'What? It can't be that bad, can it? You've not been robbin' it or something? Or you been seeing one of the girls in the gift shop and you don't wanna tell me about it?" He frowned a no, but still looked sheepish.

"Come on Mickey. Spit it out" Peter said. Mickey put back his shoulders, attempting a bit of bravado. "Well..I've been doing this volunteer stuff. You know, kids and that."

Rose laughed delightedly whilst Peter scoffed, earning him a smack in the arm from Rose.

"That's brilliant! Isn't it Peter?" Her tone firm and insisting.

"Yeah, I guess" He replied as he rubbed his arm.

Mickey shrugged, embarrassed again. "Well, there's you two off doing good all round the universe – just thought I'd do a bit at home, that's all."

The Doctor was approaching them now. "Don't tell him," Mickey hissed. Rose sighed, exasperated. "Yeah, cause being a nice person's so uncool, isn't it?" But she couldn't help reaching up and giving Mickey a quick peck on the cheek. "You old softy." Jackie joined them, her postcard hunt having proved unsuccessful, and the five of them made their way out into the sunshine.

"Well, bye for now. Take care. Don't do anything I wouldn't," Said the Doctor as they reached the bottom of the museum's wide stone steps, holding out a hand to Mickey.

"What, you off already? Barely give me time to say hello to my only daughter before you're dragging her away again!" Complained Jackie, hands on hips.

"We'd love to stay," Said the Doctor insincerely, putting a hand on Rose's shoulder. "Love to. Love to. Love love love to. But I'm afraid we have a date to keep."

"We have?" Said Rose.

"Would have thought that was obvious," Said the Doctor. "You, me and Peter are off to ancient Rome."

"Hang on!" Jackie called after them. "I've seen that Rome on telly! You just watch yourself, my girl. The things they get up to." Rose laughed.

"Keep your toga on, Mum! I can look after myself."

Rose stumbled into the control room as the TARDIS lurched to one side. The Doctor was dashing round the giant bronze mushroom in the centre, pushing a button here, pulling a lever there, doing something energetic with a pump somewhere else. Peter had disappeared off into one of the other rooms and had not yet returned, although Rose expected he was staying wherever he was until the ship's lunching ceased.

She took a hesitant step forward as the time machine seemed to settle down – but it must have been waiting for that, because the instant she moved it lurched the other way. The bed sheet that had been draped over her shoulder fell to the floor, but it at least broke her fall as the next TARDIS tremor came.

"We'll be able to find somewhere to stay," The Doctor said, looking down at her from his still-upright but fairly precarious position. "No need to bring your own bedding."

"It's for wearing, not sleeping," Said Rose. She sighed. "I went to a toga party once, but I can't remember how to tie this thing around me." The Doctor grinned.

"Nice girls don't wear togas," He told her.

"They don't?"

"Nope. And even if they did, they probably wouldn't have one with Winnie the Pooh on." Rose looked more closely at the sheet. In one corner, Winnie the Pooh sat eating honey, Piglet by his side.

"I didn't notice," She said just as Peter cautiously made his way back into the room.

"What? You think I was going to wear a toga? Essentially a long skirt" He asked, seeing them both looking at him. He'd changed into a centurion's uniform consisting of a red undershirt, matching leather top, pteryge and fabric trousers under a bronzed chest plate, arm guards and shin protectors that attached to soft leather boots whilst a red cape hung down his back to his ankles. Only his gun gave away his real origin, stored in its sheath that was attached to his belt in place of a sword centurions in history books were always shown to carry.

"No helmet?" Rose asked. Peter gave a lopsided grin and chuckled.

"Please, in that heat?" He winced at the thought. "Nice sheets by the way." Rose gave an eye roll.

"Ok ok, what should I wear then, O Roman gods of fashion?" She asked them both. The Doctor waved a hand.

"Oh, there'll be something back there. Look under R for Rome. Or A for ancient."

"And what about you?" She asked. "C for conspicuous?" The Doctor was dressed in a resolutely twenty-first-century suit with blue shirt and plimsolls, not the sort of thing that would blend in several millennia ago.

"I'll find something," He said, leaning over to twist a dial. The TARDIS spun too as Rose tripped towards the doorway, dragging the sheet behind her. "It'd be a lot easier if you fixed some stabilisers to this thing," She called back.

"Sailors keep their feet through worse than this!" He retorted happily, performing a few steps of a hornpipe to prove his point. Rose groaned.

"Yeah, well, I couldn't half do with a tot of rum myself." She staggered off again.

The TARDIS finally landed. Rose was now wearing an ankle length dress in pale blue – clashing slightly with the greenness of her still nauseous face – with a dark blue shawl draped over her head, hiding hair that was now elaborately curled and scraped off her face. The Doctor wore a plain white tunic that ended at the knees, his sonic screwdriver stuck absurdly in his belt. Along with Peter in his centurion uniform, they made quiet a trio. "Let's hope we are in ancient Rome," Said Rose. "You'll get lynched if you hang round the estate dressed like this."

"I'm sure you'd rescue us," Said the Doctor. He opened the doors and they stepped out – that first step into an alien world or time that never lost its excitement, however many times they did it. They were in a town or city, tenement blocks to either side of them. The sky was blue, but the colder sort of blue that said spring or early autumn.

The Doctor peered up at the skyline. "Aha! See that?" He indicated an enormous pillar with the figure of a man on top, just visible above the roofs. "Trajan's Column. Definitely Rome, then. Unless your estate's gone majorly up in the world."

"Same the smell hasn't," Said Peter, wrinkling his nose. Rose also quickly found foulness in their new surroundings, grimacing as her sandals splashed into a deep puddle.

"And look at these streets – they're flooded! Is this Rome or Venice?" The Doctor and Peter looked down at her feet and raised their eyebrows.

"Well, that explains the stink anyway." Peter said with a shrug. Rose frowned.

"What do you –" Then she realised. "Oh, ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. Hey, I thought the Romans invented sewers and drains and stuff?"

"Pretty much," The Doctor told her. "But I don't think we've landed in the nicest part of town. . ."

"I'll say we haven't!" Exclaimed Rose, as a cry suddenly rang out from a nearby street. All three of them immediately began running towards the sound.

Three young men were crowded round an elderly bearded man with grey hair. He lay on the ground, clearly winded, staring up in fear at the dagger that was being waved in his face.

"Oi!" Yelled Rose. "Leave him alone!" The men didn't even turn to look at him.

"Help!" croaked the old man. "Please, help me!"

"Just hand over your cash, granddad. You do what we say and everything'll be fine," Said the man with the dagger.

"She said back off!" Peter shouted at them, striding forwards and stopping just short of them. This time they turned to look, and all three faces broke into the same sly smile.

"Don't worry centurion, you'll get your share" The man with the dagger replied casually. Peter chuckled and folded him arms.

"And what if I don't want a share? What if I, oh I don't know, wanted to enforce the law and kick all your arses at the same time?" All three muggers laughed loudly as the one with the dagger swaggered over to him, the other two standing guard over the old man.

"With what? You've not even got a weapon" The man pointed his dagger in the direction of Peter's belt.

"Well, I have, just one you'd never recognise, so that technically makes two" Peter replied, a grin spreading across his face.

"That pouch thing? And where's the other?"

"Me, obviously." Again the muggers chuckled. The one with the dagger shot a smirk back at his companions who nodded in encouragement.

"Well then, defend yourself from this" The man then told Peter before he made to plunged the dagger into the side of his abdomen where the bronzed chest plate didn't cover. Within the next second, however, the tables had turned. Grabbing the man's wrist, Peter had easily twisted it and the man attached to it around so that both were now facing the muggers and the old man.

"Now the way I see it, you've got three options" Peter told the man, whom was quite painfully trying to get his twisted arm, still holding the dagger, out of Peter's grasp. "Option one, I twist to the left and I break your arm, option two, I twist to the right and I break your collarbone and your arm." He gave the man's wrist a tug to show he could.

The man's swagger had long since disappeared. Whimpering and gasping he couldn't even bring out any words of protest or defence, a trait that was shared by his companions.

"Please, please" Were the only eligible words to come out.

"The third option, I think you'll like this one," Peter told him. "Drop the dagger and get of here so fast your gone before I blink again" He hissed threateningly into the man's ear. "So? Which one do you want?" The man didn't reply, too scared to speak at all. "You know, I'm really favouring option two myself." That was enough to spur the man into movement.

Dropping the dagger, which Peter caught with his free hand, the man jumped away as soon as the grip on him was relinquished and ran down the street, past his startled companions, as though his life depended in it. The two remaining muggers slowly turned back to Peter. "Those options are open to you too" He told them.

Paralysed with fear they only managed to step away from the old man and didn't react when Rose took advantage of their distraction. There was a pile of large clay jars in the doorway next to her and two soon found themselves hurtling towards the heads of the muggers. Soon the two men were racing off down the street, shards of pottery clinging to their hair and clothes.

"I call that option four!" Rose called after them, as the Doctor helped the old man to his feet. He seemed a bit shaken – well, that was hardly surprising.

"Thank you so much," He said weakly. "Gnaeus Fabius Gracilis at your service."

Further introductions were put on hold as a nearby door slammed open. An angry-looking red-faced man glared down at the depleted pile of pottery at his feet.

"Here! What've you done to my amphorae?"

"Just seen them, those two there! Quick if you gonna catch them!" Peter said mendaciously, pointing after the two lagging muggers. The man started after them, yelling

"Oi! Oi! Oi!" as the Doctor, Rose and Peter beat a hasty retreat in the opposite direction, the Doctor and Peter carrying Gracilis between them.

"You all right?" Rose asked him, as they reached a safe distance and came to a stop. "Did those blokes nick anything?" The man shook his head – but the effort seemed to make him lose his balance.

Peter stepped in and caught him.

"Whoa! Steady there. I don't think you are all right, are you? Are you hurt?"

"No, no," Said Gracilis. "Just the worry, you know. . . And I must confess I feel slightly dizzy." The Doctor frowned.

"Really? Can you remember what day it is?"

"Ah, I am not so weak as all that," Said the man. "It is the Ides of March." Rose nearly choked.

"You're joking!" Gracilis looked startled.

"Am I, then, wrong? Am I suffering from fever of the brain?" The Doctor frowned at Rose but gave Gracilis a great big reassuring smile.

"No, no, quite right. I'm assuming you know what year it is as well, though?"

"The year?" Said the man incredulously. "Of course I do. Really, sir, I appreciate your concern, and of course your companion's brave intervention, but I assure you I am fine. There is no need for this."

"Absolutely! You're fine," Said the Doctor, slapping Gracilis on the back and grimacing at Rose and Peter. He mouthed 'Worth a try' and then 'I'll work it out later' to them. "Well, clean bill of health on the memory front. Excellent. But tell me, when did you last have anything to eat?" Gracilis looked thoughtful.

"Do you know, I have no idea. Yesterday perhaps. Or possibly the day before."

"Then before you do anything else, a bite to eat and a sit-down are on the menu. Come on."

"But hadn't we better beware?" Said Rose happily. "You know, of, er, food poisoning. . . " The Doctor frowned again. "All right. Let's go get something to eat," She said. "Could we find a nicer bit of town, though?" But Gracilis was shaking his head again.

"No, no, no. There's no time! I must continue my search!"

The Doctor was gentle but firm, almost as if he was a real doctor.

"Food and rest. You'll be no good to anyone till you've had those. And then – well, Rose, Peter and I are fond of a good search, aren't we?"

"Love 'em," Said Peter. "So you tell us what you're looking for – and we'll look for it with you. Deal?"

"Er. . ." said Gracilis. But the Doctor had already grabbed his hand and shaken it. "Deal."

Once they got into the main part of the city the streets were much more crowded.

"It's like Oxford street at Christmas!" Gasped Rose, as the tenth or eleventh person shoved her out of the way.

"Rome's got a population of one million," Said the Doctor.

"Really?" Said Rose.

"Yup." He started counting off passers-by. "One, two, three –"

"Yeah, all right, I believe you. But I think every single one of 'em's heading in the opposite direction to us!" She hopped out of the way of a particularly persistent pedestrian. "And they're all drunk!"

"It's a festival day," The Doctor explained.

"It is? Lucky us!" The Doctor shook his head. "It'd have been more surprising if it wasn't. To the Romans, almost every day is a festival of something or other."

Rose grinned. "Lucky them!"

Finally the Doctor managed to forge a path towards what Rose and Peter would call a small café, although it probably had some fancy Latin name. Most of its customers were buying food to take out, but there were a few tables for those who wanted to sit down. "Sort of like Starbucks," Said Rose. The Doctor fetched a pile of fruit pastries and four cups of spiced wine – which turned out to taste like boiled vinegar with cloves – while Rose and Peter led Gracilis to a bench.

Rose hadn't realised how pale the old man was until she saw the colour coming back to his face with the wine and the pastry.

"Thank you," He said to them for about the thirtieth time. "How can I ever I repay you? You must let me give you a reward." He began opening a pouch on his belt; there was the sound of coins chinking.

"Oh, we don't do rewards," Said the Doctor, putting up a hand to refuse.

"Really, we do this sort of thing for fun," Peter told Gracilis, seeing his puzzled expression "So, what're you searching for, then?" The old man's face blanched again and Peter felt quite alarmed. But he steadied himself and took a deep breath.

"My son," He said. "My handsome, clever son, Optatus. He has gone missing. A boy – I should say, a man – of just sixteen!"

"And you reckon he's in Rome somewhere, then?" Asked Rose. Gracilis sighed.

"I do not know. My family is currently residing in our country villa, but it has been searched, and the lands all around. I thought of Rome – you know what boys are, always far too keen for their own good on the wild ways of the city. But I have looked and I have asked and I have begged in a manner quite unfitting for my position, and not a trace have I found."

The café's proprietor, a tubby man with food stains down his tunic, hadn't troubled to hide the fact that he was listening to their conversation with interest.

"Here, I know what you can do," He suddenly interjected. Gracilis jumped from his seat.

"You can help me find my son?"

"Well, no," Said the man. "Not find him exactly." Gracilis sank back down again. "But I reckon I know who can." He came out from behind the counter and flopped down on the bench next to Peter. His fishy odour overcame even the vinegary wafts from the wine and he had to make an effort not to gag.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Said the Doctor. The man gave a loud sniff.

"There's this girl, see. They say she can tell the future, anything, just from looking at the stars."

"An astrologer?" Asked Gracilis.

"That's the very thing," The chubby man replied. "I heard she predicted that Hadrian was going to rebuild the Pantheon. And he is!"

"That's nothing," Put in a customer from the next bench, through a mouthful of bread and cheese. "She told me that I was going to have a big row with my wife – and it came true!"

"Well, yeah," Said the chubby man, "But you'd just been trying to chat up the girl in front of your wife. I could've predicted that. Anyway, I heard she's said the Empire's going to fall in a few centuries. I'm thinking of moving the family, just to be on the safe side."

Rose tutted. "Oh, come off it," She said. "Who are you trying to kid? Astrology's a load of rubbish."

"You would say that," said the Doctor. "Typical Taurean." She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Come on. You're not telling me you believe in that stuff. . . " But the Doctor shushed her as Gracilis pushed himself from his seat.

"Tell me, where is this famed woman? How can I find her?" As the café owner gave directions, the Doctor, Rose and Peter got to their feet too, the Doctor cramming in the last of his pastry as he made ready to leave. Gracilis turned to them.

"My friends, I am truly grateful for your assistance, and would be glad to offer you hospitality in my villa if ever you happen by, but I will trespass on your goodness no longer."

"You must be joking," Said the Doctor. "We're not going to miss an opportunity to meet a lady who can tell the future, are we?" And he looked at Rose and Peter and grinned.

They grinned back.

"Not a chance." Peter replied.