The Doctor Is In- Doctor Who
The Doctor Is In
Thumbing through the newspaper over breakfast, Sarah Jane Smith paused briefly over the obituaries. In the months following the invasion of the Cybermen and the Daleks, it seemed that there was a greater sense of urgency to the busy streets of London. Some claimed that it was the infectious spirit of the upcoming holidays, their eyes filled with desperate hope for peace on earth and goodwill towards mankind. Never more so had the British people longed for the manifestation of this sentiment. People did not linger too long, nor did they travel alone as often. They tried to shrug it off, to ignore the sense of fragility that permeated every waking moment of their existence, but Sarah Jane knew the truth. For, she had been to the furthest reaches of the galaxy, where the pitch black expanse of space gave her the feeling of vertigo. Her travels with The Doctor had been dizzying, disorienting, dangerous, and undeniably delicious. If she did not focus on one pinprick of light long enough, she felt that she would lose herself. That was the effect The Doctor had on her.
He was her center, her compass, during those mad, wonderful, terrible days of her youth. Deep down, she had hoped that one day they would meet again, but she did not expect that he would have a new Companion when they did. Upon meeting Rose Tyler, she had behaved deplorably. She had acted as if she had a schoolgirl crush, and it was beneath her. Although it stung that she had been replaced, she chided herself that it was not fair to expect her friend to travel the universe alone. Still, a tiny part inside of her had hoped that her Peter Pan would come back for her, that maybe once, just once, she could be his Wendy again.
Somehow she knew that he would survive, because that was just what he did. His amazing intellect, his quick wit and capacity for Schröedingian thought would always see him through. The Doctor had continually challenged her, molded her, and had brought out her better qualities… He had encouraged her to think outside of the box and to consider all sides of a situation. Briefly she considered whether Schröedingian was even a real word, but she knew what she meant by it, and that was all that mattered.
Her eyes had drifted back to the newspaper eventually, and it was if someone had drawn all the breath out of her body in one pull. There, listed among the missing and presumed dead, was a name that she recognized… Rose Tyler. Her heart felt heavy as she lifted her fork, the lovely meal which she had prepared like ash in her mouth. Sighing, she scraped her plate off into the trash.
“Mistress? Are you well?” her robotic companion K-9 chimed in. His concern for her echoed down the hall, as he rolled over to her side.
She patted his head, and merely said, “Good dog. Would you like to go for walkies?”
In Devonshire, a funeral and burial had just taken place. The mourners piled back into their cars, shaking the rain from their umbrellas, all but one. A young woman stood at the grave of her grandmother with a sense of déjà vu, for this was the very same cemetery where her parents had been buried. Susan had raised her from early adolescence until Emma had left for college. Emma had gotten the call from the hospital just as she had been about to meet up with a friend for a movie. Although she had rushed from the city, she had nearly missed her Gran’s last moments on this earth. Susan’s last words had therefore been a bit of a shock. She had said that all of the fairy tales were true, and to find the doctor in the blue box. He would have the answers that she had been looking for. As Emma stood by her grave, she thought numbly of the wild tales of time travel which she had been told in an entirely new light.
They had started simply enough as a way of entertaining a sullen, grieving teen, and of encouraging a love of learning. However, inspired by these stories, Emma eventually published a series of adventures which soon hit the bestseller lists. Over the course of ten years, she had managed to carve a niche in the science fiction market for young female writers, and shortly before Susan’s death, she had been in talks with a television producer about adapting her first novel into a screenplay. Not bad for a girl finishing up her education.
Emma sighed. That would be one more thing that she would never be able to share with her gran. So many secrets between them. So many promises unspoken. She sincerely hoped that this doctor would be able to tell her more about the life of Susan Foreman.
Thumbing through the newspaper over breakfast, Sarah Jane Smith paused briefly over the obituaries. In the months following the invasion of the Cybermen and the Daleks, it seemed that there was a greater sense of urgency to the busy streets of London. Some claimed that it was the infectious spirit of the upcoming holidays, their eyes filled with desperate hope for peace on earth and goodwill towards mankind. Never more so had the British people longed for the manifestation of this sentiment. People did not linger too long, nor did they travel alone as often. They tried to shrug it off, to ignore the sense of fragility that permeated every waking moment of their existence, but Sarah Jane knew the truth. For, she had been to the furthest reaches of the galaxy, where the pitch black expanse of space gave her the feeling of vertigo. Her travels with The Doctor had been dizzying, disorienting, dangerous, and undeniably delicious. If she did not focus on one pinprick of light long enough, she felt that she would lose herself. That was the effect The Doctor had on her.
He was her center, her compass, during those mad, wonderful, terrible days of her youth. Deep down, she had hoped that one day they would meet again, but she did not expect that he would have a new Companion when they did. Upon meeting Rose Tyler, she had behaved deplorably. She had acted as if she had a schoolgirl crush, and it was beneath her. Although it stung that she had been replaced, she chided herself that it was not fair to expect her friend to travel the universe alone. Still, a tiny part inside of her had hoped that her Peter Pan would come back for her, that maybe once, just once, she could be his Wendy again.
Somehow she knew that he would survive, because that was just what he did. His amazing intellect, his quick wit and capacity for Schröedingian thought would always see him through. The Doctor had continually challenged her, molded her, and had brought out her better qualities… He had encouraged her to think outside of the box and to consider all sides of a situation. Briefly she considered whether Schröedingian was even a real word, but she knew what she meant by it, and that was all that mattered.
Her eyes had drifted back to the newspaper eventually, and it was if someone had drawn all the breath out of her body in one pull. There, listed among the missing and presumed dead, was a name that she recognized… Rose Tyler. Her heart felt heavy as she lifted her fork, the lovely meal which she had prepared like ash in her mouth. Sighing, she scraped her plate off into the trash.
“Mistress? Are you well?” her robotic companion K-9 chimed in. His concern for her echoed down the hall, as he rolled over to her side.
She patted his head, and merely said, “Good dog. Would you like to go for walkies?”
In Devonshire, a funeral and burial had just taken place. The mourners piled back into their cars, shaking the rain from their umbrellas, all but one. A young woman stood at the grave of her grandmother with a sense of déjà vu, for this was the very same cemetery where her parents had been buried. Susan had raised her from early adolescence until Emma had left for college. Emma had gotten the call from the hospital just as she had been about to meet up with a friend for a movie. Although she had rushed from the city, she had nearly missed her Gran’s last moments on this earth. Susan’s last words had therefore been a bit of a shock. She had said that all of the fairy tales were true, and to find the doctor in the blue box. He would have the answers that she had been looking for. As Emma stood by her grave, she thought numbly of the wild tales of time travel which she had been told in an entirely new light.
They had started simply enough as a way of entertaining a sullen, grieving teen, and of encouraging a love of learning. However, inspired by these stories, Emma eventually published a series of adventures which soon hit the bestseller lists. Over the course of ten years, she had managed to carve a niche in the science fiction market for young female writers, and shortly before Susan’s death, she had been in talks with a television producer about adapting her first novel into a screenplay. Not bad for a girl finishing up her education.
Emma sighed. That would be one more thing that she would never be able to share with her gran. So many secrets between them. So many promises unspoken. She sincerely hoped that this doctor would be able to tell her more about the life of Susan Foreman.