Sarah & Harry ficathon fic: Rain, Rain, Come Again
Title: Rain, Rain, Come Again
Author: paranoidangel
Characters: Sarah, Harry
Rating: PG
Beta: hhertzof
Words: 3600
Summary: Another dinner for Sarah and Harry, another unexpected event.
Notes: Written for sarah_jane_s, prompt: Something involving the rain.
Title comes from the nursery rhyme Rain, Rain, Go Away, the first two lines of which are:
Rain, rain, go away,
Come again another day.
"Sarah!" Harry shouted through her letterbox, banging on the door at the same time. There was a doorbell, but as he'd heard nothing when he pressed it and she hadn't answered, he assumed it was broken. He was at the point of shouting again when he heard and saw movement. Embarrassed to be caught in such a position, he stood up and straightened his blazer.
When he brushed the dirt from his trousers he sighed at the wet patch on his knee. There was an odd smell here too, that wasn't the usual smell after rain he'd noticed when he left the restaurant. It was probably the flowers in Sarah's garden or someone having creosoted their fence earlier in the day, or something. However, as Sarah was his main worry at the moment, he dismissed it as unimportant.
It wasn't unusual that she was late for their annual dinner. In fact it was more often than not that she got herself caught up in a story and arrived ruffled and breathless. But tonight it had gone past that time and Harry was sure she wasn't going to turn up at all. It was probably the usual excuse that was delaying her, but that didn't stop his mind from conjuring up all sorts of scenarios where Sarah was injured or dead. And her taking so long to answer didn't help that.
He was about to bend down again, when the door opened and he was rather relieved to find her safe and in one piece.
It didn't last very long, unfortunately, because her first words to him were, "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."
Had she said it with a grin, he'd have known she was joking, but she looked deadly serious. To make things worse, her voice sounded almost shy, which wasn't something he normally associated with Sarah at all.
"I'm not a stranger." Despite his concerns there wasn't really anything else to say to that question. "Can I come in, Sarah?"
She bit her lip, then nodded and moved away from the door, her gaze on him all the time.
He headed into her lounge, half expecting to find it a mess, but instead it was perfectly tidy. Sarah had followed him, so he turned and asked her, "Is something wrong? You didn't turn up for dinner."
She curled up into a corner of the sofa, pulled her sleeves down over her hands and said, "I'm hungry," in the tone of voice of someone expecting to be fed.
All of a sudden he recognised the expression on her face, it just wasn't one he'd ever expected to see on an adult. "Sarah," he began, kneeling down to see her better, "how old are you?" He wouldn't normally ask a lady her age, of course, although in Sarah's case he already knew it, but it would confirm his suspicions one way or the other.
"Five," she said, sitting up straight.
Harry took a deep breath, not wanting to swear in front of her. He didn't know how this happened or even how it was possible, but her posture was undoubtedly that of a child, even if she looked grown up on the outside. "Oh, Sarah," he said, with sympathy, and reached out to her.
Before he could touch her she shrunk back into the cushions and he withdrew his hand. It wasn't really a surprise that she was scared and it didn't help that she didn't know him either. "I'm Harry." He smiled at her. "Would you like some dinner?"
She nodded and he left her alone to see what she had in the kitchen. Since Sarah had a tendency to grab something and run, it wasn't a surprise that the fridge was half-empty. Harry threw away some mouldy and out-of-date food before he established there was nothing to make a meal out of. Fortunately, her freezer was better stocked, even if it did consist primarily of microwave meals. Since it was late and he was hungry too, he choose two, put them in the microwave, and then set about finding some cutlery.
By the time it was all cooked and he took two plates into the lounge Sarah hadn't moved at all. Either the sight or the smell of it roused her, and she took a seat at the table. While they ate, Harry took the opportunity to observe her more closely. She was having trouble coordinating her knife and fork, but since he had limited experience with five-year-olds, he couldn't tell if that was normal for a child her age, or Sarah having problems controlling a bigger body than she was used to.
Harry was reluctant to offer to cut her food for her because she would undoubtedly take it as an insult. Well, the Sarah he knew would. He wasn't quite so sure about the child sitting opposite him, but he thought it best to wait and see if she asked.
She didn't, but the bits she couldn't manage she used her fingers for, her expression daring Harry to comment. He decided discretion was the better part of valour and said nothing about it. He hoped that someone would teach her better manners, although that assumed they managed to put this right. Which would be impossible without knowing how she had got this way in the first place.
After dinner he tried asking, but she ignored his questions and challenged him to a game of snap instead. He couldn't help smiling, seeing how much she hadn't changed at all, and she took that as a 'yes'. He didn't mind, because it at least showed that she was trusting him more, which was what he wanted. That she knew where the cards were kept was interesting, but he couldn't tell if she'd searched the house before he got there, or Sarah kept them in a similar place to where they were kept in her childhood.
Subsequent attempts to ask her the same question merely got him the same response and eventually he had to admit defeat. He couldn't tell if it was because she didn't know and didn't want to admit it, or just didn't want to say, but he knew better than to push her too far. He just hoped this would wear off by the morning. If not, he could question her again and hope for a better response.
His problems really began at bedtime. When Sarah began yawning and Harry suggested the idea she was happy enough to go. He packed away the cards before looking through cupboards for a spare pillow and blanket. He had no intention of leaving her alone all night, even if that meant sleeping on her uncomfortable sofa. Once he found what he was searching for he went to check on her.
She stood in her room, next to the bed, studying her cleavage with a frown on her face. She was at least wearing underwear, but that was still a lot more of Sarah than he was expecting to see. Caught unprepared, he turned round to leave her to it. Except that she called him back. So he took a deep breath and faced her once more, although he remained in the doorway. "What is it Sarah?"
"I can't get my bra off."
Obviously this adult body would be strange to her, but he hadn't considered that the clothes would be too. As a doctor he saw people in varying stages of undress all the time without thinking too much of it. However, he was in a different mindset here and what Sarah needed was a friend not a doctor. But there was no one else around to do it, so he would have to help her. "Turn around then."
Although she obeyed that didn't stop her from looking over her shoulder at what he was doing. The trouble was he'd never taken a bra off a woman for such innocent reasons. Neither had it done it from the back with Sarah watching him curiously. Fortunately, he'd been in enough stressful situations to be able to keep his hands from shaking. Sarah would probably not notice anything amiss. He was just glad she didn't turn around before picking out her pyjamas from under the pillow.
As she put her pyjamas on he kept his eyes closed and willed his heart to stop beating quite so fast by trying some deep breathing. Children had a way of picking up on nervousness and although he wasn't sure if that extended to children in adult bodies he didn't particularly want to find out.
"Will you tell me a story?"
He opened his eyes again and she looked up at him from the pillow with an innocent expression that would have immediately spelt trouble. In a tired five year old Sarah, it probably was just innocent. He hoped so, anyway.
"All the books here are boring." She folded her arms on top of the covers.
He smiled. Given that few of Sarah's books were fiction and those that were definitely weren't children's books, that didn't surprise him.
"All right." Although this was an easy request to grant her he had to think about what story might be appropriate. Certainly none of the ones he told in the pub were any good. As he thought, he sat down on the edge of her bed and she moved over a little to accommodate him. "I'll tell you the story of the giant robot." Given that Sarah had felt sympathy for it, chances were she'd like the story with it in.
She nodded, approving of it so far.
He took a deep breath and began. "There was once a giant robot and even though he was very big he was very kind and friendly to everyone he met. But he didn't get to meet many people because his owners weren't kind at all and kept him locked away."
"That's not very nice," she commented, with a frown.
He had to fight not to smile. "No, it's not. And worse than that, they made him steal parts to make a gun that makes people disappear when you shoot them."
"Couldn't he have just refused?"
Oh dear, he could already tell she was not going to be an easy person to tell a story to. The more he saw of Sarah as a child the more he could see just why she grew up to be the way she was. Not that it mattered: he had to carry on now that he'd started. He shook his head at her question. "His creator made him so he would always do what he was told by his owners. But it was all right because there was a clever girl called Sarah..."
She smiled at the name.
"...and she worked out what sort of gun the stolen parts could make and she went in search of them. When she found the giant robot she felt sorry for him because it wasn't his fault. But his owners found her and kidnapped her."
Sarah gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "She does escape, doesn't she?"
He nodded. "They took her to their underground lair and tied her up, but not very well, so she ran away as soon as she could." Here Harry had to pause while he considered the ending to his story. He couldn't very well kill the robot and let his owners go free, because while he thought Sarah ought to know the world didn't run the way of fairy stories, today was probably not the best time to make that point.
"Then what happened?" she asked, impatient.
Smiling indulgently at her, he continued. "The robot's owners sent him after her and told him to kill her, but because she'd been so nice to him he didn't want to. So then he was confused about who to obey. While he was confused he picked up the gun and shot his owners, making them disappear." Despite that being the best solution, Harry still felt guilty about advocating murder like that. So he carried on before she could comment, "He was very upset about it, but Sarah knew it was an accident and she told everyone, so they all knew not to blame the robot and he lived happily ever after."
She smiled and nodded. "It was a good story."
He returned her smile, glad she liked it. "Now go to sleep."
Obediently, she pulled the covers up closer to her and closed her eyes.
After bending over to kiss her on the forehead, he left her to sleep, turning off the light on his way to his make-shift bed.
~*~*~
Harry woke with a start, at first not knowing where he was or what had disturbed him. As he looked round he could make out the shape of a person in the doorway. He heard a definite sniff and automatically reached into his pocket for a handkerchief before he remembered he'd stripped down to his pants. He sat up, frowning into the dark. "Sarah?"
She confirmed it was indeed her, not that it was likely to be anyone else, when she came closer, threw her arms around him and crawled into his lap. She seemed to have forgotten she wasn't child-sized and despite the fact that she wasn't that tall, she still couldn't fit the whole of herself in his lap.
As he rearranged her she sobbed into his chest, more upset that Harry had ever seen her. He didn't know was wrong, so he rubbed her back, soothingly, and whispered, "It's all right."
It was a little while before she calmed down and he asked, "What's the matter?" in the hope of getting an answer.
"It was a big lorry and it came so fast." She hiccuped and he hoped she wasn't going to start crying again.
He frowned, trying to work out whether she was talking about a dream or a memory when she spoke again.
"Mummy shouted and Daddy did too, but then there was a bang and the car was all red. And they wouldn't talk to me."
Oh, god. She'd told him once that her parents had died in a car accident when she was young, but not how young. "It's all right," he repeated from earlier, not sure of how to handle Sarah in this state, never mind a five year old Sarah in this state.
"I don't know where they are."
He really didn't want to have to explain death to a five year old, least of all in the middle of the night. And since he couldn't think of what else to say he just pressed a kiss to the top of her head and continued to hold her tight, hoping he was soothing in some way.
Eventually her breathing evened out and he thought she must be asleep. He shifted her, intending to take her back to bed, but she just clung tighter to his vest, so he gave up. He managed to make himself comfortable without waking her, and she burrowed her face into his chest, happy to use him as a pillow. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.
~*~*~
He must have fallen asleep again because he woke up all too aware of just where Sarah's knee was. He lay still hoping she didn't move and feeling guilty at hoping she did. As a child, Sarah probably wouldn't understand what his problem was, but if by some miracle she was herself again it would be distinctly embarrassing. Since she had tired herself out the night before and it was still early anyway, it wasn't too difficult to manoeuvre himself out from under her without waking her up.
While he did immediately feel better, he decided a shower would help clear his head and prepare him for a day that might well hold anything he could imagine, and probably some things he couldn't. By the time he returned she was stirring on the sofa. He went over, knelt down and rested his hand lightly on her shoulder.
She opened her eyes and looked at him sleepily. "How did I get here?" Her tone was definitely not that of a child, and while it was harder to tell while she was not yet fully awake, she didn't have a childish expression on her face any more.
He wasn't sure what to tell her without knowing, so to confirm who she was he asked, "Would you like some tea?"
"Oh, yes please," she said with feeling, and he smiled, knowing she was back to her old self again. Unless her five year old self was that desperate for tea first thing in the morning, but he suspected not.
Either way they would both be better for some breakfast, so he made some toast as well, and by the time he came back with it she was sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"So, can you tell me what happened yesterday?" he asked her.
She had a sip of her tea and when she looked up afterwards she was seeing something far away. "It was the day after my parents died and Aunt Lavinia took me in." She bit her lip and he wondered if she cried again, whether she would find him as much comfort as she had last night. "I wish it had been the day before so I could have seen them again."
Harry wondered about that, as she distractedly tore her toast in strips. He didn't think she really would have wanted to see them die again. In her position he knew he wouldn't, but he didn't have a chance to voice his thoughts, because the phone rang and Sarah got up to answer it.
He was eating his own piece of toast and wasn't paying much attention to her conversation until he heard her gasp, at which point he looked over to see her hand pressed tightly against her mouth. Although her face was white, her monosyllabic replies didn't give him much to go on, so he just looked on, concerned, not wanting to interrupt.
After a minute she put the phone down gently, but didn't move apart from that. "Aunt Lavinia's died," she said quietly.
At that Harry had no hesitation in going over and putting his arms around her. And then she could have been five again and it could have been the previous night. This morning he just said, "I'm so sorry." There were no platitudes he felt would help in this situation, so he just held her while she cried.
When she stopped she turned away, wiping her eyes with her hands and shaking her head at his offer of a handkerchief. She wandered away into the kitchen, not looking as if she quite knew what she was doing. As she leant against the sink and looked out into the garden she shared with other residents in the block she said, "Even the weather knows."
He stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder, not putting his handkerchief away in case she changed her mind. Outside, it was raining and water dripped down the window in wavy lines. "That only happens in stories," he pointed out. "In reality, the weather does as it pleases."
"It was the rain that did it," she continued, seemingly not hearing him, and confusing Harry about what she meant.
At his silence she turned to face him, and his hand slipped off her shoulder. "Didn't you smell it?"
He frowned. "Well, yes, I did, but--"
"It knew." She took his hands, happy all of a sudden and Harry wondered if the events of the previous evening had made her crazy. "It knew it was my last chance to see Aunt Lavinia and took me back there."
"Sarah," he cautioned, "We're not living in a story."
"And time travel is impossible."
He sighed. "All right, you win." It was usually better with Sarah to give in. However, he wasn't in a rush to leave, just in case she was suffering from any after effects, so he had more toast while she rushed off to get dressed.
Back in the lounge he polished off two more slices and another cup of tea before he began to worry at how long she was taking. On the way to the bathroom he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye, and when he looked into the kitchen he discovered it was Sarah in the garden, in the rain.
Sighing again and wondering what he'd got himself into, he pulled on his shoes and rushed outside. "What on earth are you doing?"
Her face was turned to the sky and when she faced him he couldn't tell whether it was rain or tears that dripped down her cheeks. "I want to go back. I want to see her again."
"Sarah." He took her face in his hands to make sure she was listening to him. "Lavinia knew you loved her."
She bit her lip, but said nothing, so he added, "I did meet her once."
She stepped closer and leant against him. "It's not fair."
He put his arms around her and stroked her wet hair. "Life isn't. The good guys don't always win."
"And the robot doesn't always live."
He just stood there, mouth open, not having even considered that she might have remembered what was the previous night for him, but many years ago for her.
She grinned as she looked up at him, and kissed him on the cheek. "Come in, Harry, you're getting wet."
He really had no choice but to follow her. But he fervently hoped she didn't remember what had happened just before he told her the story about the giant robot. It had been embarrassing enough at the time.
Author: paranoidangel
Characters: Sarah, Harry
Rating: PG
Beta: hhertzof
Words: 3600
Summary: Another dinner for Sarah and Harry, another unexpected event.
Notes: Written for sarah_jane_s, prompt: Something involving the rain.
Title comes from the nursery rhyme Rain, Rain, Go Away, the first two lines of which are:
Rain, rain, go away,
Come again another day.
"Sarah!" Harry shouted through her letterbox, banging on the door at the same time. There was a doorbell, but as he'd heard nothing when he pressed it and she hadn't answered, he assumed it was broken. He was at the point of shouting again when he heard and saw movement. Embarrassed to be caught in such a position, he stood up and straightened his blazer.
When he brushed the dirt from his trousers he sighed at the wet patch on his knee. There was an odd smell here too, that wasn't the usual smell after rain he'd noticed when he left the restaurant. It was probably the flowers in Sarah's garden or someone having creosoted their fence earlier in the day, or something. However, as Sarah was his main worry at the moment, he dismissed it as unimportant.
It wasn't unusual that she was late for their annual dinner. In fact it was more often than not that she got herself caught up in a story and arrived ruffled and breathless. But tonight it had gone past that time and Harry was sure she wasn't going to turn up at all. It was probably the usual excuse that was delaying her, but that didn't stop his mind from conjuring up all sorts of scenarios where Sarah was injured or dead. And her taking so long to answer didn't help that.
He was about to bend down again, when the door opened and he was rather relieved to find her safe and in one piece.
It didn't last very long, unfortunately, because her first words to him were, "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."
Had she said it with a grin, he'd have known she was joking, but she looked deadly serious. To make things worse, her voice sounded almost shy, which wasn't something he normally associated with Sarah at all.
"I'm not a stranger." Despite his concerns there wasn't really anything else to say to that question. "Can I come in, Sarah?"
She bit her lip, then nodded and moved away from the door, her gaze on him all the time.
He headed into her lounge, half expecting to find it a mess, but instead it was perfectly tidy. Sarah had followed him, so he turned and asked her, "Is something wrong? You didn't turn up for dinner."
She curled up into a corner of the sofa, pulled her sleeves down over her hands and said, "I'm hungry," in the tone of voice of someone expecting to be fed.
All of a sudden he recognised the expression on her face, it just wasn't one he'd ever expected to see on an adult. "Sarah," he began, kneeling down to see her better, "how old are you?" He wouldn't normally ask a lady her age, of course, although in Sarah's case he already knew it, but it would confirm his suspicions one way or the other.
"Five," she said, sitting up straight.
Harry took a deep breath, not wanting to swear in front of her. He didn't know how this happened or even how it was possible, but her posture was undoubtedly that of a child, even if she looked grown up on the outside. "Oh, Sarah," he said, with sympathy, and reached out to her.
Before he could touch her she shrunk back into the cushions and he withdrew his hand. It wasn't really a surprise that she was scared and it didn't help that she didn't know him either. "I'm Harry." He smiled at her. "Would you like some dinner?"
She nodded and he left her alone to see what she had in the kitchen. Since Sarah had a tendency to grab something and run, it wasn't a surprise that the fridge was half-empty. Harry threw away some mouldy and out-of-date food before he established there was nothing to make a meal out of. Fortunately, her freezer was better stocked, even if it did consist primarily of microwave meals. Since it was late and he was hungry too, he choose two, put them in the microwave, and then set about finding some cutlery.
By the time it was all cooked and he took two plates into the lounge Sarah hadn't moved at all. Either the sight or the smell of it roused her, and she took a seat at the table. While they ate, Harry took the opportunity to observe her more closely. She was having trouble coordinating her knife and fork, but since he had limited experience with five-year-olds, he couldn't tell if that was normal for a child her age, or Sarah having problems controlling a bigger body than she was used to.
Harry was reluctant to offer to cut her food for her because she would undoubtedly take it as an insult. Well, the Sarah he knew would. He wasn't quite so sure about the child sitting opposite him, but he thought it best to wait and see if she asked.
She didn't, but the bits she couldn't manage she used her fingers for, her expression daring Harry to comment. He decided discretion was the better part of valour and said nothing about it. He hoped that someone would teach her better manners, although that assumed they managed to put this right. Which would be impossible without knowing how she had got this way in the first place.
After dinner he tried asking, but she ignored his questions and challenged him to a game of snap instead. He couldn't help smiling, seeing how much she hadn't changed at all, and she took that as a 'yes'. He didn't mind, because it at least showed that she was trusting him more, which was what he wanted. That she knew where the cards were kept was interesting, but he couldn't tell if she'd searched the house before he got there, or Sarah kept them in a similar place to where they were kept in her childhood.
Subsequent attempts to ask her the same question merely got him the same response and eventually he had to admit defeat. He couldn't tell if it was because she didn't know and didn't want to admit it, or just didn't want to say, but he knew better than to push her too far. He just hoped this would wear off by the morning. If not, he could question her again and hope for a better response.
His problems really began at bedtime. When Sarah began yawning and Harry suggested the idea she was happy enough to go. He packed away the cards before looking through cupboards for a spare pillow and blanket. He had no intention of leaving her alone all night, even if that meant sleeping on her uncomfortable sofa. Once he found what he was searching for he went to check on her.
She stood in her room, next to the bed, studying her cleavage with a frown on her face. She was at least wearing underwear, but that was still a lot more of Sarah than he was expecting to see. Caught unprepared, he turned round to leave her to it. Except that she called him back. So he took a deep breath and faced her once more, although he remained in the doorway. "What is it Sarah?"
"I can't get my bra off."
Obviously this adult body would be strange to her, but he hadn't considered that the clothes would be too. As a doctor he saw people in varying stages of undress all the time without thinking too much of it. However, he was in a different mindset here and what Sarah needed was a friend not a doctor. But there was no one else around to do it, so he would have to help her. "Turn around then."
Although she obeyed that didn't stop her from looking over her shoulder at what he was doing. The trouble was he'd never taken a bra off a woman for such innocent reasons. Neither had it done it from the back with Sarah watching him curiously. Fortunately, he'd been in enough stressful situations to be able to keep his hands from shaking. Sarah would probably not notice anything amiss. He was just glad she didn't turn around before picking out her pyjamas from under the pillow.
As she put her pyjamas on he kept his eyes closed and willed his heart to stop beating quite so fast by trying some deep breathing. Children had a way of picking up on nervousness and although he wasn't sure if that extended to children in adult bodies he didn't particularly want to find out.
"Will you tell me a story?"
He opened his eyes again and she looked up at him from the pillow with an innocent expression that would have immediately spelt trouble. In a tired five year old Sarah, it probably was just innocent. He hoped so, anyway.
"All the books here are boring." She folded her arms on top of the covers.
He smiled. Given that few of Sarah's books were fiction and those that were definitely weren't children's books, that didn't surprise him.
"All right." Although this was an easy request to grant her he had to think about what story might be appropriate. Certainly none of the ones he told in the pub were any good. As he thought, he sat down on the edge of her bed and she moved over a little to accommodate him. "I'll tell you the story of the giant robot." Given that Sarah had felt sympathy for it, chances were she'd like the story with it in.
She nodded, approving of it so far.
He took a deep breath and began. "There was once a giant robot and even though he was very big he was very kind and friendly to everyone he met. But he didn't get to meet many people because his owners weren't kind at all and kept him locked away."
"That's not very nice," she commented, with a frown.
He had to fight not to smile. "No, it's not. And worse than that, they made him steal parts to make a gun that makes people disappear when you shoot them."
"Couldn't he have just refused?"
Oh dear, he could already tell she was not going to be an easy person to tell a story to. The more he saw of Sarah as a child the more he could see just why she grew up to be the way she was. Not that it mattered: he had to carry on now that he'd started. He shook his head at her question. "His creator made him so he would always do what he was told by his owners. But it was all right because there was a clever girl called Sarah..."
She smiled at the name.
"...and she worked out what sort of gun the stolen parts could make and she went in search of them. When she found the giant robot she felt sorry for him because it wasn't his fault. But his owners found her and kidnapped her."
Sarah gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "She does escape, doesn't she?"
He nodded. "They took her to their underground lair and tied her up, but not very well, so she ran away as soon as she could." Here Harry had to pause while he considered the ending to his story. He couldn't very well kill the robot and let his owners go free, because while he thought Sarah ought to know the world didn't run the way of fairy stories, today was probably not the best time to make that point.
"Then what happened?" she asked, impatient.
Smiling indulgently at her, he continued. "The robot's owners sent him after her and told him to kill her, but because she'd been so nice to him he didn't want to. So then he was confused about who to obey. While he was confused he picked up the gun and shot his owners, making them disappear." Despite that being the best solution, Harry still felt guilty about advocating murder like that. So he carried on before she could comment, "He was very upset about it, but Sarah knew it was an accident and she told everyone, so they all knew not to blame the robot and he lived happily ever after."
She smiled and nodded. "It was a good story."
He returned her smile, glad she liked it. "Now go to sleep."
Obediently, she pulled the covers up closer to her and closed her eyes.
After bending over to kiss her on the forehead, he left her to sleep, turning off the light on his way to his make-shift bed.
~*~*~
Harry woke with a start, at first not knowing where he was or what had disturbed him. As he looked round he could make out the shape of a person in the doorway. He heard a definite sniff and automatically reached into his pocket for a handkerchief before he remembered he'd stripped down to his pants. He sat up, frowning into the dark. "Sarah?"
She confirmed it was indeed her, not that it was likely to be anyone else, when she came closer, threw her arms around him and crawled into his lap. She seemed to have forgotten she wasn't child-sized and despite the fact that she wasn't that tall, she still couldn't fit the whole of herself in his lap.
As he rearranged her she sobbed into his chest, more upset that Harry had ever seen her. He didn't know was wrong, so he rubbed her back, soothingly, and whispered, "It's all right."
It was a little while before she calmed down and he asked, "What's the matter?" in the hope of getting an answer.
"It was a big lorry and it came so fast." She hiccuped and he hoped she wasn't going to start crying again.
He frowned, trying to work out whether she was talking about a dream or a memory when she spoke again.
"Mummy shouted and Daddy did too, but then there was a bang and the car was all red. And they wouldn't talk to me."
Oh, god. She'd told him once that her parents had died in a car accident when she was young, but not how young. "It's all right," he repeated from earlier, not sure of how to handle Sarah in this state, never mind a five year old Sarah in this state.
"I don't know where they are."
He really didn't want to have to explain death to a five year old, least of all in the middle of the night. And since he couldn't think of what else to say he just pressed a kiss to the top of her head and continued to hold her tight, hoping he was soothing in some way.
Eventually her breathing evened out and he thought she must be asleep. He shifted her, intending to take her back to bed, but she just clung tighter to his vest, so he gave up. He managed to make himself comfortable without waking her, and she burrowed her face into his chest, happy to use him as a pillow. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.
~*~*~
He must have fallen asleep again because he woke up all too aware of just where Sarah's knee was. He lay still hoping she didn't move and feeling guilty at hoping she did. As a child, Sarah probably wouldn't understand what his problem was, but if by some miracle she was herself again it would be distinctly embarrassing. Since she had tired herself out the night before and it was still early anyway, it wasn't too difficult to manoeuvre himself out from under her without waking her up.
While he did immediately feel better, he decided a shower would help clear his head and prepare him for a day that might well hold anything he could imagine, and probably some things he couldn't. By the time he returned she was stirring on the sofa. He went over, knelt down and rested his hand lightly on her shoulder.
She opened her eyes and looked at him sleepily. "How did I get here?" Her tone was definitely not that of a child, and while it was harder to tell while she was not yet fully awake, she didn't have a childish expression on her face any more.
He wasn't sure what to tell her without knowing, so to confirm who she was he asked, "Would you like some tea?"
"Oh, yes please," she said with feeling, and he smiled, knowing she was back to her old self again. Unless her five year old self was that desperate for tea first thing in the morning, but he suspected not.
Either way they would both be better for some breakfast, so he made some toast as well, and by the time he came back with it she was sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"So, can you tell me what happened yesterday?" he asked her.
She had a sip of her tea and when she looked up afterwards she was seeing something far away. "It was the day after my parents died and Aunt Lavinia took me in." She bit her lip and he wondered if she cried again, whether she would find him as much comfort as she had last night. "I wish it had been the day before so I could have seen them again."
Harry wondered about that, as she distractedly tore her toast in strips. He didn't think she really would have wanted to see them die again. In her position he knew he wouldn't, but he didn't have a chance to voice his thoughts, because the phone rang and Sarah got up to answer it.
He was eating his own piece of toast and wasn't paying much attention to her conversation until he heard her gasp, at which point he looked over to see her hand pressed tightly against her mouth. Although her face was white, her monosyllabic replies didn't give him much to go on, so he just looked on, concerned, not wanting to interrupt.
After a minute she put the phone down gently, but didn't move apart from that. "Aunt Lavinia's died," she said quietly.
At that Harry had no hesitation in going over and putting his arms around her. And then she could have been five again and it could have been the previous night. This morning he just said, "I'm so sorry." There were no platitudes he felt would help in this situation, so he just held her while she cried.
When she stopped she turned away, wiping her eyes with her hands and shaking her head at his offer of a handkerchief. She wandered away into the kitchen, not looking as if she quite knew what she was doing. As she leant against the sink and looked out into the garden she shared with other residents in the block she said, "Even the weather knows."
He stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder, not putting his handkerchief away in case she changed her mind. Outside, it was raining and water dripped down the window in wavy lines. "That only happens in stories," he pointed out. "In reality, the weather does as it pleases."
"It was the rain that did it," she continued, seemingly not hearing him, and confusing Harry about what she meant.
At his silence she turned to face him, and his hand slipped off her shoulder. "Didn't you smell it?"
He frowned. "Well, yes, I did, but--"
"It knew." She took his hands, happy all of a sudden and Harry wondered if the events of the previous evening had made her crazy. "It knew it was my last chance to see Aunt Lavinia and took me back there."
"Sarah," he cautioned, "We're not living in a story."
"And time travel is impossible."
He sighed. "All right, you win." It was usually better with Sarah to give in. However, he wasn't in a rush to leave, just in case she was suffering from any after effects, so he had more toast while she rushed off to get dressed.
Back in the lounge he polished off two more slices and another cup of tea before he began to worry at how long she was taking. On the way to the bathroom he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye, and when he looked into the kitchen he discovered it was Sarah in the garden, in the rain.
Sighing again and wondering what he'd got himself into, he pulled on his shoes and rushed outside. "What on earth are you doing?"
Her face was turned to the sky and when she faced him he couldn't tell whether it was rain or tears that dripped down her cheeks. "I want to go back. I want to see her again."
"Sarah." He took her face in his hands to make sure she was listening to him. "Lavinia knew you loved her."
She bit her lip, but said nothing, so he added, "I did meet her once."
She stepped closer and leant against him. "It's not fair."
He put his arms around her and stroked her wet hair. "Life isn't. The good guys don't always win."
"And the robot doesn't always live."
He just stood there, mouth open, not having even considered that she might have remembered what was the previous night for him, but many years ago for her.
She grinned as she looked up at him, and kissed him on the cheek. "Come in, Harry, you're getting wet."
He really had no choice but to follow her. But he fervently hoped she didn't remember what had happened just before he told her the story about the giant robot. It had been embarrassing enough at the time.