Susan Foreman was lying on her back and staring up at the black evening sky. The garden was submerged in shadows. If her mind had been on Earth with the rest of her, Susan might have wondered who actually owned it, now that that version of Sarah Jane had gone. She might even have wondered where that version of Sarah Jane had gone
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It hadn't been so very long, really, since he saw her last - stolen moments in a treacherous paradox - but there was no time, then, no time for a proper reunion.
So he steps closer, robes whispering across the grass, and whispers her name, as though afraid she'll disappear if he breaks the silence.
"Susan?"
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"Hello," she said, carefully. She automatically wanted to add the word 'Grandfather' to that, but wasn't sure if she should or not just yet. She supposed she'd find out soon, and that would allow her to feel a lot less awkward.
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"It's really you." With no care for dignity, he drops down beside her. The robes could use a bit of wear and tear anyway.
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She nodded mutely. It probably was safe to call him Grandfather, but Susan was surprised to find that, now the opportunity was there, the words wouldn't form. Really, she'd met so many different incarnations that the thrill of being reunited should have ceased to effect her. But the expression on his face - which never changed, somehow - always brought it flooding back.
"Why are you wearing those?" she asked. It wasn't the most poignant thing to say, given the importance of the moment, but she couldn't resist the question.
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Rose's voice was soft and curious, devoid of any of her regular bitterness or professionalism. She sounded like herself, and actually felt more that way than she had in awhile, since coming here.
This girl wasn't someone she'd met before, but she looked lost and it was a beautiful night.
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She tilted her head a little to look at the speaker, raising it up off the grass and losing her hat in the process. Susan didn't know her, but she wasn't particularly worried by the fact. It was going to be rectified now, and, as far as Susan knew, only good people - people who could help - had been brought to this place. No one had mentioned the Master yet.
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She climbed to her feet, a little damp now from the dew on the grass. It was a good job it was a nice evening. Shaking grass blades off her hat before putting it on again, she moved over the table to have a better look at the charts.
"No, I'm afraid not," she admitted, "There's not very much to see anymore."
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He pulled out the most appropriate one for this vantage point and time of the year, which he had covered with a sheet of clear plastic so that he could make notes. "Do you want to give me a hand?"
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"I'm Susan..." she began, before pausing, tilting her head at him. "I don't think you need me to tell you that, do I?"
She liked to think she'd be able to recognise her Grandfather no matter what face he had, but being proved correct was still a little strange.
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Looking up at the sky, she could see what the girl was looking at. Or wasn't.
She sighed at the sight and said, "It doesn't look right at all."
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"It looks so much bigger than it did," she commented, "And so much colder somehow."
She hoped that made sense to someone else.
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She shivered, but she was glad the Doctor had assured her there was more out there than just us, and Cliff was still where she'd left him.
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"We can fix it, though," she said, with confidence she didn't necessarily, "I'm sure something can be done. Otherwise..."
Otherwise what? What was the point?
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He stepped out onto the grass and was about to step further when he saw her. He froze.
"Susan?" He shook his head, she couldn't be real. Something was trying to trick him. Yet for some reason, he couldn't seem to stop himself from calling out again, "Susan...?"
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"Hello," she said, shyly, getting to her feet to greet him properly.
He was looking at her very strangely. A lot of people did that, actually. As if she couldn't possibly be here. No-one had mentioned the Time War. She didn't know what would happen to her in the future. It was better that way, and she always enjoyed living life as and when it happened.
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He couldn't seem to stop himself from repeating her name. It was one he hadn't used in such a long time, one he hadn't let himself use. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, so many thoughts he wanted to express.There were stories to tell her, things he'd meant to say if he ever met her again, all lost and abandoned, flooding back.
But all that would come out was her name.
"You are Susan?" he managed, finally, "That is your name?"
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Although, it wasn't really her name. It was the name she'd chosen, a very long time ago. When they'd first left Gallifrey.
He'd chosen 'the Doctor', but his Granddaughter had gone for something infinitely simpler. She'd grown rather fond of it over the years. Grown into it, even. It had always seemed to fit, somehow. She'd adopted various aliases at various times, but none of them had ever felt quite right. Using then had been like wearing a second skin - one which didn't quite fit - over her own.
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