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After a morning full of final touches to resume, cover letter, and writing samples, Sarah Jane had finally felt confident in mailing out packages to various London-based newspapers. She was determined to get a job here in James’ world and one that would suit her interest in writing. She wouldn’t be the sort to live as a housewife, dependent on her husband’s income. Already, she felt as if she had taken too long. But with the pregnancy, the wedding, and the house hunting, Sarah simply didn’t have the time she needed to prepare the documents to her upmost liking.
Now though? Now they had moved in to their town house. They still hadn’t fully unpacked. In every room boxes were scattered among piles of unpacked belongings and furniture. Some were old things, moved in from Milliways and James’ old flat. Others were new purchases: items Sarah claimed more appropriate for a family home or furniture (like a beautiful old cradle she found the other day in an antique shop) for the baby. Of course, paths were cleared out leading from room to room. It was easy to get to their bed, easy to find their way from the kitchen to the garden and to the dining room, easy to get to the upstairs closet that led towards Milliways, easy to get to the relatively undisturbed upstairs bedrooms.
After three days of living in the town house, it was starting to slowly become a home. Fond memories, of course, had been created the very first second they arrived to move in. James had lifted her up into his arms, causing her to squeal and bat her fists playfully against his chest. He had carried her inside, not letting her go until they were in the bedroom and he had kissed her soundly. Then came an order not to even consider lifting any of the boxes before James went to help the movers.
Sarah Jane smiled at the memory as she entered the door. It would always come to mind every time she came home, which certainly wasn’t a complaint. She yawned, dumping her keys in the bowl next to the door. Too tired to head all the way upstairs, she walked into the reception room instead. Her coat was dumped unceremoniously on a box, followed by her purse. With all the packages mailed out, all she could do now was to wait for calls regarding interviews. Yawning again, Sarah lied down on the couch. She kicked off her shoes as she closed her eyes and placed a hand on her stomach.
But Valerie didn’t seem content on letting her mother sleep. The quickenings were starting to occur a little more regularly than it had earlier in the week when she first felt them. But halfway through the week, she had started to discern the butterfly flutters from among other bodily activities. And right now, it seemed, it was acting up at full force.
She groaned, rolling over on her side and reaching for the television remote from the floor. While Sarah Jane enjoyed television more as a child, as she grew older she found herself watching less and less. With the nearest book seeming miles away, however, reading was not an option. She began to flip through the channels, stopping at each for no more than a handful of seconds. But at the sight of a familiar blue box, she froze.
That wasn’t right.
That couldn’t be right.
That was…
Sarah sat up slowly as she watched a woman in a leather jacket back out of the room which contained the TARDIS. The woman looked so very, very familiar. The eyes, the face… For a few moments, Sarah Jane forgets to breathe. She can only stare at the television screen. At the woman in the jacket and the overly familiar man who had now joined her.
If facial recognition hadn’t been enough, the words out of the man’s mouth proved it. “Hello Sarah Jane.”
“It’s you,” the woman replied. “Oh… Doctor…”
She moved toward him and Sarah Jane shook her head. That was her smile on the woman’s face. Her look of amazement at seeing the Doctor, just some twenty-five years older than she was now. It was impossible. It was incredible. Lost in her own thoughts, she barely heard the conversation that followed about regenerations and looks.
“I thought you’d died. I waited for you and you didn’t come back. And I thought you must’ve died.”
“I lived. Everyone else died.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone died, Sarah.”
Like the Sarah Jane Smith on the screen, the one leaning forward on the couch could only stare in awe. While the older one couldn’t believe that it was him, she could not believe she was seeing this. How could this be happening? This made absolutely no sense…except for the fact it did. Indubitably.
“I can’t believe it’s you.” Any further statement was cut off by the screen. “Okay! Now I can!”
Unable to take it any more, Sarah Jane grabs the remote off the floor and shuts off the television. Then, she sends the control flying across the reception room. That can't be right. It just can't. Surely James would have told her. Surely!
She shakes her head, closing her eyes and leaning back against the couch. She's too shocked for tears right now. Mostly, she just wants to forget what she has just seen.
Now though? Now they had moved in to their town house. They still hadn’t fully unpacked. In every room boxes were scattered among piles of unpacked belongings and furniture. Some were old things, moved in from Milliways and James’ old flat. Others were new purchases: items Sarah claimed more appropriate for a family home or furniture (like a beautiful old cradle she found the other day in an antique shop) for the baby. Of course, paths were cleared out leading from room to room. It was easy to get to their bed, easy to find their way from the kitchen to the garden and to the dining room, easy to get to the upstairs closet that led towards Milliways, easy to get to the relatively undisturbed upstairs bedrooms.
After three days of living in the town house, it was starting to slowly become a home. Fond memories, of course, had been created the very first second they arrived to move in. James had lifted her up into his arms, causing her to squeal and bat her fists playfully against his chest. He had carried her inside, not letting her go until they were in the bedroom and he had kissed her soundly. Then came an order not to even consider lifting any of the boxes before James went to help the movers.
Sarah Jane smiled at the memory as she entered the door. It would always come to mind every time she came home, which certainly wasn’t a complaint. She yawned, dumping her keys in the bowl next to the door. Too tired to head all the way upstairs, she walked into the reception room instead. Her coat was dumped unceremoniously on a box, followed by her purse. With all the packages mailed out, all she could do now was to wait for calls regarding interviews. Yawning again, Sarah lied down on the couch. She kicked off her shoes as she closed her eyes and placed a hand on her stomach.
But Valerie didn’t seem content on letting her mother sleep. The quickenings were starting to occur a little more regularly than it had earlier in the week when she first felt them. But halfway through the week, she had started to discern the butterfly flutters from among other bodily activities. And right now, it seemed, it was acting up at full force.
She groaned, rolling over on her side and reaching for the television remote from the floor. While Sarah Jane enjoyed television more as a child, as she grew older she found herself watching less and less. With the nearest book seeming miles away, however, reading was not an option. She began to flip through the channels, stopping at each for no more than a handful of seconds. But at the sight of a familiar blue box, she froze.
That wasn’t right.
That couldn’t be right.
That was…
Sarah sat up slowly as she watched a woman in a leather jacket back out of the room which contained the TARDIS. The woman looked so very, very familiar. The eyes, the face… For a few moments, Sarah Jane forgets to breathe. She can only stare at the television screen. At the woman in the jacket and the overly familiar man who had now joined her.
If facial recognition hadn’t been enough, the words out of the man’s mouth proved it. “Hello Sarah Jane.”
“It’s you,” the woman replied. “Oh… Doctor…”
She moved toward him and Sarah Jane shook her head. That was her smile on the woman’s face. Her look of amazement at seeing the Doctor, just some twenty-five years older than she was now. It was impossible. It was incredible. Lost in her own thoughts, she barely heard the conversation that followed about regenerations and looks.
“I thought you’d died. I waited for you and you didn’t come back. And I thought you must’ve died.”
“I lived. Everyone else died.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone died, Sarah.”
Like the Sarah Jane Smith on the screen, the one leaning forward on the couch could only stare in awe. While the older one couldn’t believe that it was him, she could not believe she was seeing this. How could this be happening? This made absolutely no sense…except for the fact it did. Indubitably.
“I can’t believe it’s you.” Any further statement was cut off by the screen. “Okay! Now I can!”
Unable to take it any more, Sarah Jane grabs the remote off the floor and shuts off the television. Then, she sends the control flying across the reception room. That can't be right. It just can't. Surely James would have told her. Surely!
She shakes her head, closing her eyes and leaning back against the couch. She's too shocked for tears right now. Mostly, she just wants to forget what she has just seen.
