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There’s a look of sheer delight on Sarah Jane’s face when she sees the TARDIS sitting there amidst the other formations – natural and otherwise - of the Milliways grounds. How could she have missed it before on her last (brief) trip out here? The idea that she’d ever walk right by the blue box sounds daft. Then again, Sarah has come to learn over the past year and whatever of travelling with the Doctor that often anything involving him can quite easily turn out to be just as daft.
Whatever the point was, the TARDIS is here now. In front of her, looking exactly like it should as soon as they return to Nerva (except maybe for that bit of snow in the corner), and Sarah laughs in delight. This is so much better than anything waiting for her inside the bar right now. So much better. A gloved hand digs into her coat pocket, pulling out a small key on a metal chain. She always knew that it would come in handy to nick an extra key from the Doctor, and this just proves her case. Still chuckling to herself, Sarah places the key in the slot, opens the door and—
--stares in surprise, mouth open wide. When the Doctor had mentioned remodelling earlier that evening, she hadn’t quite believed that it would be this extensive. It takes another second or two before she remembers to walk inside and out of the cold, still astonished by the radical change of appearance. Sarah closes the door behind her before looking around the room in amazement. Gone is the simple white and grey colouring of the room and gone is the TARDIS console that she’s so familiar with. Instead it’s…well, the TARDIS has never looked more…well, organismal is as good a word as any.
Taking a deep breath, Sarah walks up the steps to the console and pulls off one of her gloves to run her fingers over the (new) console. It feels different too, but she can still picture the Doctor (her Doctor, of course, with the hat and scarf and curly hair) stroking it when he thinks no one’s looking. But some of the buttons (a bare few) still seem familiar, and that’s good. She’ll have to point that out to Harry at some point; he still has a lot to learn about travelling with the Doctor in her opinion.
Finally satisfied with her exploration of this chamber, Sarah Jane continues along her way. Even if everything looks different (maybe he should have gotten that Edna woman to redecorate, Sarah decides; he never did have the best fashion sense), the footsteps are still the same. These are, after all, footsteps she’s had memorized since the Doctor first told her she might as well take a room for herself.
It doesn’t take her long to find her room and Sarah grins when she notices the tan-coloured silk scarf tied to the doorknob. She had placed it there shortly after picking this room for herself and never bothered to remove it, even after she finally learned her way around some of the TARDIS (enough anyway to get her back to this place). Now, knowing it’s still here after she’s not, she’ll never bother taking it off.
“Well, here we go,” Sarah Jane says, giving the door a small whack inward before turning the doorknob. Always does the trick.
And then she steps inside.
And then proceeds to throw herself on her bed - her bed with its four poster canopy (the red velvet drapes neatly tied at each side) and fluffy pillows and warm down comforter.
Her bed (and quite possibly the only one she ever wants). The one that is so much better than that cheap old thing back in Croydon or the one that was picked out by others in the flat here. Although she’d never admit it to anyone, Sarah Jane had picked this room simply for this bed. She had investigated seven others before finally settling on this one, pulling her scarf off her head where it had been serving as a hair ribbon and tying it around the knob so she’d find it again. This bed, with its crinkly red colour and deep dark wooden frame had made the room perfect.
Sarah Jane shrugs off her coat, letting it fall on her bed in a heap, and then works on pulling off her boots as she surveys the rest of the room. That old (and odd) wardrobe’s still there, as is her bookshelf, full of a strange (but terrific) assortment of books – some familiar and some, Sarah supposes, she’ll wind up collecting on later journeys with the Doctor. In some ways, it begins to get to her: the fact that this is her room, but it isn’t entirely her room the way it is back outside of Milliways.
It’s her room from the future.
It’s her room, what becomes of it, years (centuries) after she’s stopped travelling with him.
She never wants to stop travelling with him.
If she is to be technical, Sarah Jane Smith now has three homes. She has a flat in Croydon, of course, and a room in the TARDIS, and the flat she shares here in Milliways. But out of all three of them, there is only one she never wants to leave. And that realisation has never been clearer to her until now.
With another quick survey around the room – noting the scraps of paper scattered on a desk, the pens everywhere, her Polaroid camera sitting on a shelf (how could she be daft enough to leave that here?) – Sarah sighs and lets her head fall on a pillow.
It’s her room. No matter what, this is her room in the TARDIS and it is here now, in Milliways. And it’s there, waiting for her back on Nerva. She shouldn’t be crying, she shouldn’t be worrying about her future (oh, all these flipping timelines!), and she should just be thankful.
It’s her room, after all, and the pillow has that musty TARDIS-like smell she’s grown used to. Her tears dampen the fabric, but she does not care. Sarah Jane is safe here. She’ll always be safe here. In here, she doesn’t have to worry about fear experiments, unhappy friends, daft tiffs, or people she cares about going away (they always go away in the end, don’t they?) or dying.
Most of all, she decides, she doesn’t have to think of that future without the Doctor that she knows is waiting for her (haunting her) somewhere down the road. Some advocate of Women’s Lib she is, so attached to this one man and his barmy space-time ship.
Right now, she reminds herself, she has him back in their universe (home), and she has this here. And that should be enough. Sarah knows she has to live her life in the present – there’s no other option for a girl like her. The present, never the future or the past. So, she lies on her side and pulls her knees up to her chest in a foetal position just like she used to as a child, whenever the nightmares hit.
And then, she falls asleep in the one place that she never wants to leave, all worries and problems and fights and fears forgotten for the time being.
Whatever the point was, the TARDIS is here now. In front of her, looking exactly like it should as soon as they return to Nerva (except maybe for that bit of snow in the corner), and Sarah laughs in delight. This is so much better than anything waiting for her inside the bar right now. So much better. A gloved hand digs into her coat pocket, pulling out a small key on a metal chain. She always knew that it would come in handy to nick an extra key from the Doctor, and this just proves her case. Still chuckling to herself, Sarah places the key in the slot, opens the door and—
--stares in surprise, mouth open wide. When the Doctor had mentioned remodelling earlier that evening, she hadn’t quite believed that it would be this extensive. It takes another second or two before she remembers to walk inside and out of the cold, still astonished by the radical change of appearance. Sarah closes the door behind her before looking around the room in amazement. Gone is the simple white and grey colouring of the room and gone is the TARDIS console that she’s so familiar with. Instead it’s…well, the TARDIS has never looked more…well, organismal is as good a word as any.
Taking a deep breath, Sarah walks up the steps to the console and pulls off one of her gloves to run her fingers over the (new) console. It feels different too, but she can still picture the Doctor (her Doctor, of course, with the hat and scarf and curly hair) stroking it when he thinks no one’s looking. But some of the buttons (a bare few) still seem familiar, and that’s good. She’ll have to point that out to Harry at some point; he still has a lot to learn about travelling with the Doctor in her opinion.
Finally satisfied with her exploration of this chamber, Sarah Jane continues along her way. Even if everything looks different (maybe he should have gotten that Edna woman to redecorate, Sarah decides; he never did have the best fashion sense), the footsteps are still the same. These are, after all, footsteps she’s had memorized since the Doctor first told her she might as well take a room for herself.
It doesn’t take her long to find her room and Sarah grins when she notices the tan-coloured silk scarf tied to the doorknob. She had placed it there shortly after picking this room for herself and never bothered to remove it, even after she finally learned her way around some of the TARDIS (enough anyway to get her back to this place). Now, knowing it’s still here after she’s not, she’ll never bother taking it off.
“Well, here we go,” Sarah Jane says, giving the door a small whack inward before turning the doorknob. Always does the trick.
And then she steps inside.
And then proceeds to throw herself on her bed - her bed with its four poster canopy (the red velvet drapes neatly tied at each side) and fluffy pillows and warm down comforter.
Her bed (and quite possibly the only one she ever wants). The one that is so much better than that cheap old thing back in Croydon or the one that was picked out by others in the flat here. Although she’d never admit it to anyone, Sarah Jane had picked this room simply for this bed. She had investigated seven others before finally settling on this one, pulling her scarf off her head where it had been serving as a hair ribbon and tying it around the knob so she’d find it again. This bed, with its crinkly red colour and deep dark wooden frame had made the room perfect.
Sarah Jane shrugs off her coat, letting it fall on her bed in a heap, and then works on pulling off her boots as she surveys the rest of the room. That old (and odd) wardrobe’s still there, as is her bookshelf, full of a strange (but terrific) assortment of books – some familiar and some, Sarah supposes, she’ll wind up collecting on later journeys with the Doctor. In some ways, it begins to get to her: the fact that this is her room, but it isn’t entirely her room the way it is back outside of Milliways.
It’s her room from the future.
It’s her room, what becomes of it, years (centuries) after she’s stopped travelling with him.
She never wants to stop travelling with him.
If she is to be technical, Sarah Jane Smith now has three homes. She has a flat in Croydon, of course, and a room in the TARDIS, and the flat she shares here in Milliways. But out of all three of them, there is only one she never wants to leave. And that realisation has never been clearer to her until now.
With another quick survey around the room – noting the scraps of paper scattered on a desk, the pens everywhere, her Polaroid camera sitting on a shelf (how could she be daft enough to leave that here?) – Sarah sighs and lets her head fall on a pillow.
It’s her room. No matter what, this is her room in the TARDIS and it is here now, in Milliways. And it’s there, waiting for her back on Nerva. She shouldn’t be crying, she shouldn’t be worrying about her future (oh, all these flipping timelines!), and she should just be thankful.
It’s her room, after all, and the pillow has that musty TARDIS-like smell she’s grown used to. Her tears dampen the fabric, but she does not care. Sarah Jane is safe here. She’ll always be safe here. In here, she doesn’t have to worry about fear experiments, unhappy friends, daft tiffs, or people she cares about going away (they always go away in the end, don’t they?) or dying.
Most of all, she decides, she doesn’t have to think of that future without the Doctor that she knows is waiting for her (haunting her) somewhere down the road. Some advocate of Women’s Lib she is, so attached to this one man and his barmy space-time ship.
Right now, she reminds herself, she has him back in their universe (home), and she has this here. And that should be enough. Sarah knows she has to live her life in the present – there’s no other option for a girl like her. The present, never the future or the past. So, she lies on her side and pulls her knees up to her chest in a foetal position just like she used to as a child, whenever the nightmares hit.
And then, she falls asleep in the one place that she never wants to leave, all worries and problems and fights and fears forgotten for the time being.
