Dr Whoaaa (fanfic)
Title: Reunions
Author: jaybee_bug
Rating: PG
Summary: What if the Doctor ran into Sarah Jane again during his Sixth, rather than his Tenth, regeneration? Vignette.
A/N: Just something I sketched last year, a scene jumping right in the middle of a conversation between the recently re-united Six & Sarah . . . mostly I wanted to write this argument between them. :o) (God, I miss Six.)
?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
There was a lull and then she asked,
“Did you miss me?”
It sounded almost as though she were afraid of the answer; though it was lightheartedly asked, doubt tinged the question at the edges.
His eye roamed the room distractedly when she asked it,
“Oh I knew you could take care of yourself, I wasn’t worried.”
She frowned, feeling her heart fall a little.
“But that isn’t what I asked. Didn’t you ever think about me?”
“Well of course I did -- I think about many things.”
She drooped a bit, her voice taking on a slightly defeated tone,
“But I wasn’t a particularly noteworthy topic.”
“Oh, now, Sarah . . .” He looked to her a moment, the phrase ‘Don’t be like that’ implied in his look. She returned the look -- ‘I most certainly will be like that.’ At her persistence, he sighed,
“I just don’t see any point in dwelling on something if it cannot be returned to, that’s all.”
Her expression screwed into one of thought at this.
“Well you don’t mean ‘just leave things in the past’, do you?”
He perked up,
“Exactly! The mind’s trapped in what’s already flowed to the past and you’d become blind to what’s right in front of you.”
She looked at him, aghast.
“So I’m just history to you then, is that it? Some -- some fascinating little chapter in the history books you’ve long turned the pages on -- nothing of any real consequence?!”
He raised his hands a little,
“Sarah--”
“--No! I’m sorry Doctor but sometimes I think you forget not everyone’s some high and mighty Time Lord who can just leave experiences behind like so many pages in a book! Some of us--”
Her voice choked a little, her eyes beginning to well slightly, but she continued, choking out,
“--some of us don’t forget so easily.”
He stiffened and pointed,
“Now that’s not fair. You know I haven’t-- I wouldn’t-- didn’t you ever find that box I had sent out?!”
She sniffed and wiped at the corners of her eyes, answering in a calmer, though thickened voice,
“Yes, eventually. Poor dog spent six months gathering dust in my attic before I found him, but he didn’t seem any worse the wear for it.”
He waved dismissively,
“Ah, his memory circuits were in stasis, he wouldn’t have been aware of the passage of time.”
They paused and looked at one another. She blurted,
“But I wasn’t sure what to make of things after that. You just -- vanished.”
He leaned back,
“I told you already, I was trying to get out of your hair!”
She sighed in frustration and answered, with a tone of irony,
“Yes, but Doctor, you don’t call, you don’t write -- look, I’m not sure how you do things where you come from, but my understanding’s always been that friends don’t just never speak to one another ever again!”
“But I couldn’t, Sarah, I’ve told you.”
She looked at him intently,
“Couldn’t? Or you wouldn’t?”
He scowled,
“Semantics! It’s the same thing.”
“No it isn’t! If you were really so worried about me living a normal life, why have me be your assistant in the first place?”
“What, now you want me to apologize for having taken you onboard the Tardis?”
She huffed,
“No! I just want a straight answer from you! Not this wishy-washy reason you’re giving me for dumping me and never looking back, because I just don’t buy it!”
He bounded out of the beanbag chair, crossing his arms and pacing away slightly as he murmured a reply,
“Well I don’t know what to tell you. It’s not as though it’s easy to send a post-card when you’re constantly crossing the spacetime continuum.”
She gave a somewhat amused laugh,
“Right, and it’s not as though you’ve got any excuses for the trip being out of your way. Just a timeship that could bring you there instantaneously.”
He glanced at her, looking increasingly defensive over the subject matter of their conversation, pacing slightly with anxious energy.
“I lead a busy life, Sarah--”
At her snort he stopped short and gave her a dirty look,
“And why is that funny?”
“I just can’t believe you’re resorting to that as an excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse! It happens to be true.”
She eyed him and replied in a sarcastic tone,
“All right then. So you’re telling me the reason you never came back to see me again was because your schedule was too filled up.”
He stood stubbornly, arms crossed, looking off at some point in the room as he answered,
“You know how things always come up. If it’s not some slimy seabeast it’s the Cybermen or the Daleks or something.”
She exhaled a dismissive sound, studying him a moment.
“I can see there’s no use arguing with you. I just-- you know what I think it is?” The thought struck her suddenly and she straightened in her seat,
“You were afraid to come back, weren’t you?”
He gave her a puzzled frown.
“What?”
“Is that what happened to the others? Start to worry you’d get too attached, so you had to drop them off?”
He huffed,
“That’s completely absurd!”
“I’m not so sure it isn’t.”
He enunciated each word in irritation,
“I had only your best interests in mind, for all the good that did --”
She stood anxiously from her seat.
“Oh, come on, you knew how much I loved--” Her eyes widened as a thought struck her again,
“Is that why you sent me K-9, because you were too much of a coward to talk to me face-to-face?”
“Coward?” he repeated in disbelief. Before she could answer,he spluttered again,
“Coward?!”
She opened her mouth to speak but he carried on,
“I had thought you would have appreciated the utility of a sophisticated piece of equipment, but I guess I was wrong!”
She retorted with flaring anger,
“Well excuse me for not being overwhelmed with appreciation for being sent the consolation prize!”
“All right then,” he announced viciously, sweeping over to the chair behind the console,
“I guess I know better now then to send you anything, don’t I!”
“I guess so!” she shouted back. He’d dropped into the chair and spun away from her, aggressively absorbed in studying the controls, and she huffed and turned around likewise, arms crossed.
The room fell quiet, with nothing but the gentle blipping sound of some console monitor clicking its pattern. Sarah scowled at the wall she was facing. The absurdity of their argument hung heavy in the air.
She started to wonder if she should have come back at all. Maybe things just weren’t going to click right this time around. Maybe he really had changed more then she’d realized. It was balancing on the constant precipice, thinking you knew him and realizing you really didn’t. She wasn’t sure she could handle that, chasing those memories and never sure whether she was really catching them.
A bit of motion caught the corner of her eye and she turned slightly. He stood there right next to her -- it was overwhelming to suddenly have him there, looking at her with those sharp blue eyes, eyes so different and yet so completely familiar, that completely confusing mixture.
He seemed to be composing himself, face a sober expression. He drew in a breath, straightening his shoulders as he did so, as if bracing himself.
“I’m sorry,” he spoke.
It was said with certainty -- like the way he said most things, it seemed -- though with some reluctance. She could hear the genuine regret in his tone, too, though. It was a . . . sadness.
Sarah took a breath and said quietly,
“Thank you.”
She studied him for a beat. She said gently, with curious understanding,
“That’s very hard for you, isn’t it? To apologize.”
He returned her gaze, not really belaying anything. She continued gently.
“Well. I appreciate the effort.”
He glanced about the room briefly, absent-mindedly rubbing his hands together a moment, then asked in an appeasing tone,
“You’d mentioned you wished to see the old console room again?”
She nodded,and agreed in her gentle tone.
“That would be fun.”
“Very well. Down the hall, two doors to our left, up the spiral staircase, and then right, right, left . . .”
She smiled slightly and squashed it to say deadpan,
“Maybe you’d better lead the way.”
“Ah. Yes. Probably so.”
They’d been moving down the corridor and he blurted,
“I asked him to look after you.”
“I know.”
He glanced to her, surprised.
“You do?”
“I worked it out of him in about a week.”
“Ah. Well. Good to know how long he can keep a secret.”
She chuckled.
“In his defense, I was employing unfair tactics.”
“Really.”
“Mhm.”
“Bribe him with a nice battery or something?”
“I told him he couldn’t come with me somewhere until he told.”
“That would do it, I imagine.”
He looked to her,
“You’re rather fond of him, aren’t you?”
She returned his gaze.
“Yes.”
He nodded, as if to himself, and said with a hint of fondness in his voice,
“He’s a good dog.”
They made it through their twists and turns to the console room. As they entered he patted the old console,
“It needs a gatekey to get started from this location. I shall return shortly. Try not to cause any cascading explosions or anything in the meantime.”
She smirked and answered sarcastically,
“I think I’ll manage to contain myself.”
“Mmm,” he answered distractedly as he left the room.
“Oh, and Sarah,” he added from the hall, turning and coming back to hang in the doorway. He paused a beat, looking at her.
“I did miss you.”
That same tone of certainty, of candor; but she could see in his eyes how long it had taken him to work himself up to be able to say it. She felt a bit of a lump in her throat, gazing back, briefly considering if she should play it cool, just tell him she returned the sentiment . . .
Oh, to hell with it.
She rushed up and hugged him. He seemed startled a moment, but then she could feel him return it, cautiously sliding his arms about her at first, and then holding onto her so fiercely.
She sighed into his hold, feeling a bit like she’d finally come home.
Author: jaybee_bug
Rating: PG
Summary: What if the Doctor ran into Sarah Jane again during his Sixth, rather than his Tenth, regeneration? Vignette.
A/N: Just something I sketched last year, a scene jumping right in the middle of a conversation between the recently re-united Six & Sarah . . . mostly I wanted to write this argument between them. :o) (God, I miss Six.)
?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
There was a lull and then she asked,
“Did you miss me?”
It sounded almost as though she were afraid of the answer; though it was lightheartedly asked, doubt tinged the question at the edges.
His eye roamed the room distractedly when she asked it,
“Oh I knew you could take care of yourself, I wasn’t worried.”
She frowned, feeling her heart fall a little.
“But that isn’t what I asked. Didn’t you ever think about me?”
“Well of course I did -- I think about many things.”
She drooped a bit, her voice taking on a slightly defeated tone,
“But I wasn’t a particularly noteworthy topic.”
“Oh, now, Sarah . . .” He looked to her a moment, the phrase ‘Don’t be like that’ implied in his look. She returned the look -- ‘I most certainly will be like that.’ At her persistence, he sighed,
“I just don’t see any point in dwelling on something if it cannot be returned to, that’s all.”
Her expression screwed into one of thought at this.
“Well you don’t mean ‘just leave things in the past’, do you?”
He perked up,
“Exactly! The mind’s trapped in what’s already flowed to the past and you’d become blind to what’s right in front of you.”
She looked at him, aghast.
“So I’m just history to you then, is that it? Some -- some fascinating little chapter in the history books you’ve long turned the pages on -- nothing of any real consequence?!”
He raised his hands a little,
“Sarah--”
“--No! I’m sorry Doctor but sometimes I think you forget not everyone’s some high and mighty Time Lord who can just leave experiences behind like so many pages in a book! Some of us--”
Her voice choked a little, her eyes beginning to well slightly, but she continued, choking out,
“--some of us don’t forget so easily.”
He stiffened and pointed,
“Now that’s not fair. You know I haven’t-- I wouldn’t-- didn’t you ever find that box I had sent out?!”
She sniffed and wiped at the corners of her eyes, answering in a calmer, though thickened voice,
“Yes, eventually. Poor dog spent six months gathering dust in my attic before I found him, but he didn’t seem any worse the wear for it.”
He waved dismissively,
“Ah, his memory circuits were in stasis, he wouldn’t have been aware of the passage of time.”
They paused and looked at one another. She blurted,
“But I wasn’t sure what to make of things after that. You just -- vanished.”
He leaned back,
“I told you already, I was trying to get out of your hair!”
She sighed in frustration and answered, with a tone of irony,
“Yes, but Doctor, you don’t call, you don’t write -- look, I’m not sure how you do things where you come from, but my understanding’s always been that friends don’t just never speak to one another ever again!”
“But I couldn’t, Sarah, I’ve told you.”
She looked at him intently,
“Couldn’t? Or you wouldn’t?”
He scowled,
“Semantics! It’s the same thing.”
“No it isn’t! If you were really so worried about me living a normal life, why have me be your assistant in the first place?”
“What, now you want me to apologize for having taken you onboard the Tardis?”
She huffed,
“No! I just want a straight answer from you! Not this wishy-washy reason you’re giving me for dumping me and never looking back, because I just don’t buy it!”
He bounded out of the beanbag chair, crossing his arms and pacing away slightly as he murmured a reply,
“Well I don’t know what to tell you. It’s not as though it’s easy to send a post-card when you’re constantly crossing the spacetime continuum.”
She gave a somewhat amused laugh,
“Right, and it’s not as though you’ve got any excuses for the trip being out of your way. Just a timeship that could bring you there instantaneously.”
He glanced at her, looking increasingly defensive over the subject matter of their conversation, pacing slightly with anxious energy.
“I lead a busy life, Sarah--”
At her snort he stopped short and gave her a dirty look,
“And why is that funny?”
“I just can’t believe you’re resorting to that as an excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse! It happens to be true.”
She eyed him and replied in a sarcastic tone,
“All right then. So you’re telling me the reason you never came back to see me again was because your schedule was too filled up.”
He stood stubbornly, arms crossed, looking off at some point in the room as he answered,
“You know how things always come up. If it’s not some slimy seabeast it’s the Cybermen or the Daleks or something.”
She exhaled a dismissive sound, studying him a moment.
“I can see there’s no use arguing with you. I just-- you know what I think it is?” The thought struck her suddenly and she straightened in her seat,
“You were afraid to come back, weren’t you?”
He gave her a puzzled frown.
“What?”
“Is that what happened to the others? Start to worry you’d get too attached, so you had to drop them off?”
He huffed,
“That’s completely absurd!”
“I’m not so sure it isn’t.”
He enunciated each word in irritation,
“I had only your best interests in mind, for all the good that did --”
She stood anxiously from her seat.
“Oh, come on, you knew how much I loved--” Her eyes widened as a thought struck her again,
“Is that why you sent me K-9, because you were too much of a coward to talk to me face-to-face?”
“Coward?” he repeated in disbelief. Before she could answer,he spluttered again,
“Coward?!”
She opened her mouth to speak but he carried on,
“I had thought you would have appreciated the utility of a sophisticated piece of equipment, but I guess I was wrong!”
She retorted with flaring anger,
“Well excuse me for not being overwhelmed with appreciation for being sent the consolation prize!”
“All right then,” he announced viciously, sweeping over to the chair behind the console,
“I guess I know better now then to send you anything, don’t I!”
“I guess so!” she shouted back. He’d dropped into the chair and spun away from her, aggressively absorbed in studying the controls, and she huffed and turned around likewise, arms crossed.
The room fell quiet, with nothing but the gentle blipping sound of some console monitor clicking its pattern. Sarah scowled at the wall she was facing. The absurdity of their argument hung heavy in the air.
She started to wonder if she should have come back at all. Maybe things just weren’t going to click right this time around. Maybe he really had changed more then she’d realized. It was balancing on the constant precipice, thinking you knew him and realizing you really didn’t. She wasn’t sure she could handle that, chasing those memories and never sure whether she was really catching them.
A bit of motion caught the corner of her eye and she turned slightly. He stood there right next to her -- it was overwhelming to suddenly have him there, looking at her with those sharp blue eyes, eyes so different and yet so completely familiar, that completely confusing mixture.
He seemed to be composing himself, face a sober expression. He drew in a breath, straightening his shoulders as he did so, as if bracing himself.
“I’m sorry,” he spoke.
It was said with certainty -- like the way he said most things, it seemed -- though with some reluctance. She could hear the genuine regret in his tone, too, though. It was a . . . sadness.
Sarah took a breath and said quietly,
“Thank you.”
She studied him for a beat. She said gently, with curious understanding,
“That’s very hard for you, isn’t it? To apologize.”
He returned her gaze, not really belaying anything. She continued gently.
“Well. I appreciate the effort.”
He glanced about the room briefly, absent-mindedly rubbing his hands together a moment, then asked in an appeasing tone,
“You’d mentioned you wished to see the old console room again?”
She nodded,and agreed in her gentle tone.
“That would be fun.”
“Very well. Down the hall, two doors to our left, up the spiral staircase, and then right, right, left . . .”
She smiled slightly and squashed it to say deadpan,
“Maybe you’d better lead the way.”
“Ah. Yes. Probably so.”
They’d been moving down the corridor and he blurted,
“I asked him to look after you.”
“I know.”
He glanced to her, surprised.
“You do?”
“I worked it out of him in about a week.”
“Ah. Well. Good to know how long he can keep a secret.”
She chuckled.
“In his defense, I was employing unfair tactics.”
“Really.”
“Mhm.”
“Bribe him with a nice battery or something?”
“I told him he couldn’t come with me somewhere until he told.”
“That would do it, I imagine.”
He looked to her,
“You’re rather fond of him, aren’t you?”
She returned his gaze.
“Yes.”
He nodded, as if to himself, and said with a hint of fondness in his voice,
“He’s a good dog.”
They made it through their twists and turns to the console room. As they entered he patted the old console,
“It needs a gatekey to get started from this location. I shall return shortly. Try not to cause any cascading explosions or anything in the meantime.”
She smirked and answered sarcastically,
“I think I’ll manage to contain myself.”
“Mmm,” he answered distractedly as he left the room.
“Oh, and Sarah,” he added from the hall, turning and coming back to hang in the doorway. He paused a beat, looking at her.
“I did miss you.”
That same tone of certainty, of candor; but she could see in his eyes how long it had taken him to work himself up to be able to say it. She felt a bit of a lump in her throat, gazing back, briefly considering if she should play it cool, just tell him she returned the sentiment . . .
Oh, to hell with it.
She rushed up and hugged him. He seemed startled a moment, but then she could feel him return it, cautiously sliding his arms about her at first, and then holding onto her so fiercely.
She sighed into his hold, feeling a bit like she’d finally come home.