Ian reclined on his couch, sipping wine from the goblet Barbara had just refilled for him. "Do you know what the Doctor said to me this morning?"
"No, what?" Barbara asked, relaxing on her own couch, eating grapes.
" 'Beware the ides of February, Chesterman'," Ian quoted, brushing at a wine stain on his toga.
Barbara smiled, then giggled, then began to laugh. Ian looked at her, bemused.
"What's so funny?" Ian wanted to know when she had finally stopped laughing. "The Doctor chuckled when he said it too. I don't get the joke."
"Do you know what the saying 'The Ides of March' actually means?"
Ian shook his head. "You're the history teacher," he reminded her. "I'm just a humble science master."
"It means the 15th of the month, but only for March, May, July and October. For the others, it's the 13th."
Ian frowned. "So it's the 13th of February, then?"
Barbara nodded. "That's right." She thought for a moment. "That makes tomorrow St. Valentine's Day."
They clinked goblets. "To St. Valentine," Ian toasted. They had both drank enough wine to reach the point where they didn't need much excuse to toast things.
"I don't suppose the Romans celebrate Valentine's Day," Ian commented.
Barbara shook her head. "Far too early for that," she replied. "I'm sure they'll have a feast day linked to Cupid, their god of love, but I can't seem to remember when it is."
Ian smiled lazily and clinked goblets with her again. "To Cupid."
"To Cupid," she said, joining him in the toast.
***
That evening, while Ian was dozing, Vicki was preparing a light supper and the Doctor was checking on the TARDIS, Barbara found herself a wooden tablet, a stylus and some ink and began creating a small masterpiece for the morning.
***
The following day, Ian rose early, thanks mainly to his pre-supper doze of the evening before. He wasn't the first awake though.
The Doctor smiled smugly at Ian. "You have mail, young man." He raised his hands as if to grasp the lapels of his jacket, realised he was wearing a toga and dropped them back to his sides.
"Mail?" Ian echoed, a mystified look on his face.
The Doctor pointed to the low table in front of the couches. On the table Ian found a wooden tablet with writing on it.
Ian looked it over, frowning. "My Latin is a little rusty," he confessed, passing it to the Doctor.
The older man put on a pair of half-moon spectacles and squinted at the tablet.
" 'To Ian, Happy Valentine's Day.' I assume you recognise the question mark?"
Ian smiled. "Yes. I also recognise the handwriting."
***
Lazy morning passed into lazy afternoon. Ian waited for Barbara to mention the card, but she didn't. So he decided to bring it up.
"I had a surprise this morning," he announced.
"Really? Not another cryptic message from the Doctor?"
"No, not from the Doctor, from someone else," he replied, slipping the card out of the sleeve of his toga and placing it on the table.
Barbara laughed. "I was beginning to wonder if you hadn't got it."
Ian grinned. "Oh, I got it. Happy Valentine's Day."
"And to you," she said, regarding her empty wine goblet. She remembered their first meeting, at Coal Hill School. She remembered how pleasant she though he was, and how she couldn't stop thinking about him for days. And how her cousin Linda had teased her about fancying him.
"Who is the card from?" she asked him.
"You don't know?" Ian asked, getting up to refill her drinking vessel.
"Why don't you tell me?" she suggested, grasping the front of his toga as he bent to refill the wine. She pulled her unresisting companion towards her.
"Anyone hungry?" asked Vicki, appearing as if from nowhere in the doorway.
"Erm, well, yes, I suppose so," Ian said as he and Barbara parted rapidly.
"Me too," said Barbara, adjusting her toga self-consciously.
"Right," Vicki replied brightly. "It'll be ready soon."
After she had gone, Ian and Barbara exchanged a look. "I think that wine went to my head," Ian said.
Barbara nodded quickly. "Mine too," she agreed.
Ian grinned sheepishly. "This never happened?"
"This never happened!" Barbara confirmed.
***
A few days later, when they returned to the TARDIS and their travels in time and space, Ian forgot to take his card. He cursed his forgetfulness when he realised.
February 14th 1974AD
Antonio enjoyed his work. Ever since he was a small boy, growing up in Pisa looking out over the Leaning Tower, he had been fascinated by the past. Now, as a professor of archaeology based in Rome, he was able to indulge his boyhood dreams on a daily basis.
Like today, for instance. He was leading a team on a summer dig of the ruins of a villa outside Rome. The site had yielded many interesting finds so far, including the one he was working on now.
It was a thin piece of wood, possibly a writing tablet. Over the last two days he had been carefully removing the dirt from around the edges and now it was ready to be lifted.
Carefully, oh so carefully, he eased the precious item from the Earth. It came with little effort, much to Antonio's relief.
The side facing him for the last two days had been blank. Curious now he had it out of the ground, he turned it over.
Sure enough, there was writing on the other side. Using a fine brush, he cleaned away the dry soil, to reveal the message.
Antonio read it once, then again. Then once more, just to be sure. Frowning, he called over one of his colleagues.
"Marco, what do you make of this?" he asked, passing over the delicate tablet.
Marco, an expert linguist, studied the writing. Now he was frowning too.
" 'To Ian, Happy Valentine's Day.' How old did you say this layer was?"
"Sixty to seventy AD, no later," Antonio confirmed. "So what do you think?"
"I think it's got to be a hoax. Or a student prank."
"But it was buried. I discovered it myself."
Marco scratched his chin. "Well, short of time travel, I can't help you."
The two men laughed at the thought of time travel, for a moment forgetting the object of their curiosity.
***
"Do you remember the time we spent in that Roman villa?" Ian asked.
Curled up beside him, Barbara nodded. "Like it was yesterday."
"And the Valentine's card you made me?" he continued, grinning.
Now she was grinning too. "You never proved it was me. It could have been Vicki."
Ian shook his head. "I know exactly who sent that card."
They kissed, lightly but with an undercurrent of passion.
