(no subject)
I really adore this community and watching and I thought I'd expand on a ficlet I wrote to post here.
Title: Exile
Characters: Sarah Jane, Nine
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Oh, I wish.
Summary: Ten days later, she opens the door to find him, but not him.
Notes: Originally done for thedrabblesquid and expanded. I thought after all the RP'ing, I might as well try the fic side.
She knows dozens of planets by verse, name, and number, but never enough about the only one that never took her in and that cast him out. The home she had on Earth could never compare to the one in a wooden blue-box, one almost warm if you closed your eyes and touched her from the outside.
Ten days after she was dropped off in a seemingly endless life of monotony, he arrives on her doorstop; apologetic and infinitely, impossibly upset. She’d wanted to see curls and a bright and mad smile; she had wanted to see him, apologetic and assuring her that ‘the whole mess on Gallifrey is done with now’.
But it’s not the him she’d expected.
He’s taller, older, and with a face she wouldn’t have recognized if it weren’t for the look in his eyes. “Sarah,” he says, accent leaning to the North, where she’s never heard it bend before. “I’ve really gone and done it now.”
She listens as he talks about the way the planet had broken apart, destroyed by his hand, and when he looks at her, she doesn’t remember ever seeing that sort of pain in any human’s eyes before. But she can tell it’s him and she knows it’s him and she loves him. She will love him no matter what he does because the Doctor is her best friend.
“I haven’t got a home anymore.”
He just sounds lost. Like the orphan child sitting in the dark, dusty shadows of a life they never once asked for. “Yes, you do,” she replies stubbornly, the same old spark flickering in her eyes. “With me. You always have me.” She wants him to believe that and to validate her, because now she’s not the only poor lonely orphan between them, wishing she remembers things that are slipping away far too quickly.
What comes next is gentle, but crushing in its truth and Sarah Jane Smith wishes that the Doctor would have told her a lie. Anything but the truth. “No, Sarah. I don’t.”
She wishes it didn’t sting so much, the truth of the matter and he stands, all ears and Northern-accent and loss and looks down at her and she wants him to ask her to come with him. She just wants him to. More than that, she wants him to say goodbye. “Where are you going?” is what she finally asks.
“Matters to resolve. Planets to mend,” he concedes, looking down at her. “You could come. With me.”
But she can’t even answer, because she’s too afraid it will happen again. Some other planet will need him and she’ll be abandoned and the wound is too fresh, so she shakes her head, fast and hard. “Maybe soon. Maybe sometime soon?”
“Maybe,” he agrees. “And it will be fantastic.”
He leaves and doesn’t say goodbye and she listens to the sound of the TARDIS, the sound of home departing and she doesn’t even cry. Abandoned once more, but this time, of her own volition.
Title: Exile
Characters: Sarah Jane, Nine
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Oh, I wish.
Summary: Ten days later, she opens the door to find him, but not him.
Notes: Originally done for thedrabblesquid and expanded. I thought after all the RP'ing, I might as well try the fic side.
She knows dozens of planets by verse, name, and number, but never enough about the only one that never took her in and that cast him out. The home she had on Earth could never compare to the one in a wooden blue-box, one almost warm if you closed your eyes and touched her from the outside.
Ten days after she was dropped off in a seemingly endless life of monotony, he arrives on her doorstop; apologetic and infinitely, impossibly upset. She’d wanted to see curls and a bright and mad smile; she had wanted to see him, apologetic and assuring her that ‘the whole mess on Gallifrey is done with now’.
But it’s not the him she’d expected.
He’s taller, older, and with a face she wouldn’t have recognized if it weren’t for the look in his eyes. “Sarah,” he says, accent leaning to the North, where she’s never heard it bend before. “I’ve really gone and done it now.”
She listens as he talks about the way the planet had broken apart, destroyed by his hand, and when he looks at her, she doesn’t remember ever seeing that sort of pain in any human’s eyes before. But she can tell it’s him and she knows it’s him and she loves him. She will love him no matter what he does because the Doctor is her best friend.
“I haven’t got a home anymore.”
He just sounds lost. Like the orphan child sitting in the dark, dusty shadows of a life they never once asked for. “Yes, you do,” she replies stubbornly, the same old spark flickering in her eyes. “With me. You always have me.” She wants him to believe that and to validate her, because now she’s not the only poor lonely orphan between them, wishing she remembers things that are slipping away far too quickly.
What comes next is gentle, but crushing in its truth and Sarah Jane Smith wishes that the Doctor would have told her a lie. Anything but the truth. “No, Sarah. I don’t.”
She wishes it didn’t sting so much, the truth of the matter and he stands, all ears and Northern-accent and loss and looks down at her and she wants him to ask her to come with him. She just wants him to. More than that, she wants him to say goodbye. “Where are you going?” is what she finally asks.
“Matters to resolve. Planets to mend,” he concedes, looking down at her. “You could come. With me.”
But she can’t even answer, because she’s too afraid it will happen again. Some other planet will need him and she’ll be abandoned and the wound is too fresh, so she shakes her head, fast and hard. “Maybe soon. Maybe sometime soon?”
“Maybe,” he agrees. “And it will be fantastic.”
He leaves and doesn’t say goodbye and she listens to the sound of the TARDIS, the sound of home departing and she doesn’t even cry. Abandoned once more, but this time, of her own volition.