Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. Please don't sue me or steal my story!

NOTE: Hi everyone! I'm back from my school-imposed fanfic hiatus with a new story! This is a follow-up story to my previous fic Drolemitaybdekcirtsawi. I wrote it in response to a request from Bubblez-rocks-your-socks, who wanted the Doctor to tell Rose he loves her. Thanks for the prompt, Bubblez, and I hope you like the story!

We Can Be Heroes
By Rowena ZahnreiThough nothing will keep us together,
We can beat them for ever and ever
Oh we can be Heroes
Just for one day…
We can be us
Just for one day…
David Bowie, "Heroes"

Introduction

It all began at a small café in South London, with an impatient waitress and an empty chair.

"Ahem," this waitress was saying. "Excuse me. Excuse me, sir. Sir!"

Sarah Jane Smith glanced up from her newspaper to see the tall girl trying to catch the attention of a patron seated two tables away. She could only see him from the back–a brown-haired, slender man in a very blue suit. He was sitting alone at a small, round table meant for two; a secluded, corner spot with a good view of the busy city street beyond the fence that separated the café's outdoor seating area from the main sidewalk. The wrought-iron fence was painted white, and draped with flowering vines. Window boxes bursting with June flowers hid the speakers piping upbeat Bobby Darin tunes into the crowded forecourt. This café was Sarah Jane's favorite morning spot–a warm, cheerful hideaway where the coffee was strong and rich and the muffins were overloaded with fresh berries. It was a place that made her feel happy and relaxed–a rare thing in her hectic line of work.

That's why it was so jarring to see the man's slumped, dejected posture. Even from the back, he exuded a gloom that seemed to settle over his shadowed corner table like a cloud. Sarah Jane knew that brooding posture well. It spoke of regret. Regret and loss…two emotions with which the aging journalist was all too familiar. Without fully realizing it, she felt a peculiar feeling of kinship spark within her, an empathy which only grew deeper when the man began to speak.

"I'm sorry," he replied to the waitress, his voice sad and distant. "I was worlds away just then. What did you want?"

"I need to take this chair, sir."

"What?" The young man sounded stricken.

"The chair," the waitress spelled out, half lifting the deceptively heavy metal chair by its intricately wrought back in demonstration. "Forgive me, sir, but you don't seem to be meeting anybody, and that group at table three–"

"Just a minute," Sarah Jane called out, snatching up her purse, coffee mug, and newspaper and striding across the tiled forecourt. It was an impulsive action, but there was something about that young man that pulled at her, and Sarah Jane had long ago learned to trust her instincts as much as her intellect.

Beaming a smile at the startled pair, she plunked herself down in the contested chair and spread her stuff out on the table.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. I didn't see you there," she said, barely affording the startled man a glance before turning to the waitress. "You're free to take that chair over there," she said, pointing to her old spot. "I don't believe anyone's using it."

"Ma'am."

With an incline of her head that was just shy of sardonic, the waitress swanned off, leaving Sarah Jane alone with the dejected man in the very blue suit.

"Thank you," he said, a touch of amusement lacing his tone. Sarah Jane shrugged.

"Yes, well, I'm no stranger to eating out on your own. These kids they hire nowadays can be terribly inconsiderate when it comes to singles," she said brusquely, absently patting her pockets in search of her glasses. "When they're not ignoring you completely, they treat you like you're just taking up space–ah, here we are…" Discovering her glasses had been perched on her head all along, she quickly slipped them on and focused on the man's face for the first time. Instantly, she paled.

"Hello, Sarah Jane."

The man smiled, but his impish expression couldn't hide the sinking disappointment that flickered in his eyes when he realized she had only just recognized him.

"Doctor!" she gasped out, her choked voice trapped somewhere between tears and laughter. "But what are you… Why are you here? Where's Rose? And Mickey–where's Mickey Smith?"

The ancient Time Lord didn't answer. Instead he glanced down at his tea, his angular features pulled tight. Sarah Jane frowned, an odd, cold feeling starting to harden in her stomach. Her reporter's instincts were tingling, telling her that something had happened since they had last met, something terrible. And she had a sudden, terrible suspicion that she knew what it was.

Aware of her reputation for investigating strange phenomena, the London Times had hired Sarah Jane freelance to cover the story of the Battle of Canary Wharf, which had ravaged the city's business district several months before. Giant metal Cybermen had been trying to take over Earth–a topic that was just up her alley. As part of her research, she had been supplied with a copy of the casualty lists. Rose Tyler had been included among the missing-presumed-dead. But, knowing she was with the Doctor, Sarah had just assumed…

"Oh…oh no. No, Doctor, don't tell me that–"

"They're alive, Sarah," he assured her quickly, and she breathed a sigh of deep relief. "Rose, Mickey…even Jackie–that's Rose's mother. They're all alive and well–fantastic, really."

Sarah Jane nodded. "I see," she said. "Then if they're all so fantastic, why are you here? On your own?"

The Doctor sat back in his chair, his expression impossible to read. "Well, if you must know, nosy, I was thinking."

"About what?"

"Doors, actually. I was thinking about just how many doors there are in a city like this. In the world–in all the worlds out there. And do you know what I realized?"

She shook her head.

"I realized, Sarah Jane Smith, that I am a selfish bastard."

Sarah Jane cocked an eyebrow. "Do you expect me to argue with that?"

She'd meant it as a joke–well, mostly–but the Doctor didn't smile. He didn't even look up from his tea. The reporter frowned, her concern growing by the second. The Doctor was acting so strangely. Granted, she didn't know this particular incarnation all that well, but even so, long experience had taught her how to read between the lines. Often the truth lurked in what a person didn't say. And what the Doctor wasn't saying could fill volumes.

"I've been counting," he went on. "In my head–how many doors there are in this cosmos. And then I wondered: if I knocked on those doors, how many people would let me in? Really let me in. Be happy to see me, offer me a biscuit, sit down with me to chat, let me hold the remote control when we watch telly. And do you know the number I came up with?"

Sarah Jane shifted uneasily in her seat, waiting for him to answer his own question.

"Zero. That's the final figure. Zero. Zip, nada, none, niente, zippedy-dippedy-squat. For all the people I've met, for all the times I've saved the universe, there's no one left out there who knows me, really knows me. Who would recognize me for who I am at the very first glance–no puzzled double-takes or lengthy introductions. And I'm not counting the Face of Boe. He doesn't have a door for one, and for two…well…it'll suffice to say I'm not counting him."

He shook his head, his gaze vacant. "I really am alone. Now, more than ever before. Alone."

Sarah Jane glared. She had no idea who that Face of Boe was that the Doctor had been babbling about, but she had understood the rest all too well.

"I've had enough," she snapped, slamming her coffee mug down on the table. "You have it wrong, Doctor. You're not a selfish bastard. You're a selfish, arrogant, self-absorbed bastard!"

The Doctor blinked, startled by her tone. "What?"

"Zero, indeed," she continued angrily. "What about me, eh? I have a door. Several, in fact. Did you ever consider you could call on me?"

"No," he said, his tone flat. Sarah opened her mouth, flabbergasted. He continued in the same bitter tone.

"Oh, you'd open your door for the Doctor," he said. "So would many others. Jo, Harry, the Brigadier–maybe even both Brigadiers, though having seen what she's like on duty, the prospect of dropping in on Bambera at home is, frankly, chilling. But I'm not the Doctor you knew, Sarah Jane. Any of you. I haven't been for…oh, so many, many years. And even though you've met me before, you still don't know me. Not this me. Not really. Not like…"

He cut himself off, choked by his own words. Sarah Jane's frown deepened as she completed his sentence for him.

"Not like Rose, you mean," she said, failing to keep the anger, or the hurt, from her voice. The Doctor took in a sharp breath through his nose, his pained expression seeming to age his youthful face at least twenty years. Sarah Jane sighed.

"What…what is it about her, Doctor?" she asked hesitantly. "What makes her so different from…the rest of us."

The Doctor closed his eyes, no longer able to look her in the face.

"I was so young when I met you, Sarah," he said quietly. "But I thought I was so old. I thought I understood the universe; that I'd learned to appreciate the shades of gray that lurk between good and evil. But I've seen so much since then. I've done things…many things…the Doctor you knew would not have been capable of. But Rose…"

He shook his head, rubbing his weary eyes with his long fingers. "Rose saw me at my worst," he said. "I was staring into the abyss, and she…she pulled me back. Really. She literally swung out on a chain and pulled me back." His lips twitched briefly upwards in what could have been a smile, but his eyes were shiny and red. "She saved my life, Sarah Jane, in so many ways, and she didn't stop there. But now she's gone. I lost her. I told her…I wanted…" He ducked his head and averted his eyes, his voice suddenly rough. "But I failed."

"Doctor…"

"No, don't try it," he snapped. "There's no way to rationalize this. I lost her. It was my fault! I saw the signs, I had the clues, I felt the storm approaching. But…but we were having fun, and I allowed myself to be selfish. Just this once, I thought. The universe owes me some happiness just this once."

He shook his head with a disgusted grimace. "Have you ever heard anything so human?" he spat. "Your Doctor would have known better. Your Doctor did know better. And he'd tell me so himself…if he were here…"

Sarah Jane bristled, but forced herself not to retort. Every version of the Doctor she'd known had had a tendency of disparaging other species when he was in a temper or a funk. In an odd way, it was nice to know some things about her alien friend hadn't changed. So, instead of reacting defensively, she fell back on professionalism and her natural bluntness, using her reporter's skills to get the conversation back on track.

"You were there, weren't you," she stated more than asked, straining to search his closed features for any sort of response. "When the Cybermen invaded Earth? I knew you must have been involved somehow, but I never thought…" She sighed, tilting her head in an attempt to catch his eye. "Doctor, what happened? You can tell me."

With great effort, the Doctor raised his head, his intense brown eyes deep with an emotion Sarah Jane had never expected to associate with the enigmatic Time Lord. Vulnerability. The Doctor was feeling vulnerable, and he was desperate enough to let her see.

"Oh, Doctor…"

"Sarah," he cut her off, his London accented voice deep with regret. "Was it really so bad? When I left you behind… Was it really as terrible as you said?"

"Well, I…"

"Please, Sarah," he grabbed her hands, startling her with the desperation in his expression. "Don't spare my feelings. I need to know the truth."

Sarah Jane sat back, a cold suspicion forming behind her eyes. "Why?" she demanded. "What have you done, Doctor? You told me Rose was fine, fantastic even. Your words."

"And she is! She is, Sarah. I spoke with her, and she's doing…fine, just fine."

"Then why ask me the question? Why not go talk to her? Unless…" She furrowed her brow as a sudden thought occurred to her, accompanied by a wave of guilt that she hadn't considered it before. "Doctor, did she leave you? Is that why you're here, like this?"

"Not by choice," the Doctor quickly asserted. "She didn't go by choice. She tried everything to stay. I tried to send her away, for her own safety, but she came back. She always came back. My brave, stubborn girl…"

"I'm sorry," was all Sarah Jane could think to say. "But I still don't understand…"

"Those Cybermen weren't from space, Sarah," he told her. "They were from Earth. A parallel Earth in a parallel dimension."

Sarah's eyes widened. "Incredible," she said. "A parallel world… So, is that what happened, then, when the Cybermen suddenly vanished? They were pulled back into their parallel dimension?"

"No," the Doctor shook his head.

"Then what–"

"I opened a window into the Void–the nothingness that separates dimensions," he explained. "Rose and I together. The Torchwood Institute had been drawing energy from it for some time, unwittingly attracting the attention of a group of Daleks that had been hiding away in there since the War. They broke through to this world, the Cybermen followed in their wake. Rose and I opened the Void in reverse and sucked them all back in. But Rose…" His voice broke slightly and he took in a steadying breath. "The Void's pull was too strong. Rose couldn't hold on. There was nothing I could do."

Sarah Jane nodded slowly, her dark eyes deep with compassion. "And now she's in that parallel dimension," she said. The Doctor nodded, swallowing hard as he worked to regain his composure.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Along with Mickey and Jackie…and her dad. Pete." He sniffed and almost smiled. "Good ol' Pete Tyler. He's dead in this world, you know. And now, so is Rose. Sealed away in an alternate reality, forever, living her life. But I…I can't ever see her again."

"And so you came here."

"To think," he smiled sadly.

Sarah Jane returned his smile in kind, and turned her eyes to her cooling coffee.

"Yes," she said at last, running her finger along the rim of her mug. "It was…difficult. After you left."

The Doctor stared, giving her his full attention. The intensity of his expression was unnerving, and Sarah tried not to look as she continued.

"It was like…like coming home after having studied abroad for months and months…the jarring adjustment back to the ordinary. You can't help but feel the disappointment. That sense of loss. That the adventure's done. That the world open to you is now so much smaller. All the old expectations and worries and insecurities and responsibilities you left behind creep back in with the familiar and mundane, and before you know it it's like you never even left. And that…that's probably the worst of all. When you realize your wings are clipped and, this time, it's for good."

"Oh, Sarah Jane…" The Doctor's eyes shone with guilt. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"No." She said firmly. "No, don't. It wasn't all that bad. Not really. I still had my contacts at work, and my friends at UNIT, and they were a help. And I had K-9, of course," she smiled. "It was good of you to send him to me. I'd started to wonder if you'd forgotten me."

"Never," the Doctor asserted fondly.

"I understand that now," she said, and chuffed a soft laugh. "I loved you, you know. I never stopped."

The Doctor stiffened at that, looking rather like he'd swallowed a fly. Sarah chuckled again.

"Come now, Doctor, don't look like that. Love may have four letters, but it's not a dirty word. It comes in all shapes and sizes, and turns up in the most unexpected places–rather like you!"

"Sarah–"

"In fact," she interrupted, brightening as she spoke, "now I consider it, I think the root of your problem may be that you love too deeply. Curiosity may have driven you from your home planet, but it's love that's kept you traveling. Love of the universe, and all the silly, half-mad, short-sighted little life forms that inhabit it. Love defines you, Doctor, and you inspire it wherever you go. You can't help it. It's there in the people you meet and influence. People like me. And like Rose. And we can't help but love you for it."

"Or resent it, more like," the Doctor frowned. "You've resented me a long time, Sarah Jane, and you weren't shy about letting me know it the last time we met."

"You caught me off guard, popping up at that school like that."

"No," he shook his head. "That had been building for a while."

"And now you're worried Rose might feel the same, is that it?" she asked. The Doctor averted his eyes.

"I have to admit," Sarah Jane smiled, "you're far more transparent in this form than you were before. Enigmatic–that's what you were. A truly free spirit."

He raised an amused eyebrow. "And now?"

"Now…I think you've settled a bit. You light up in the company of others, and you hurt when those ties are broken. Before, you sort of closed down, as if you found being part of a group was somehow constricting. From the moment you regenerated into old teeth-and-curls, you couldn't wait to be rid of UNIT, and all the ties you'd built there. The Brigadier really missed you once you'd gone, you know. He'd never admit it openly, but I knew. We all did."

"Yeah, I know," the Doctor said quietly, finishing off his tea in one long gulp. "So what's that human saying, then? Turnabout is fair play? Just as I learn to welcome stability and friendship, it's ripped away from me. Made inaccessible. Rose is gone, along with her entire family, and I'll never…never have the chance to tell her–to tell them…how much I…I…"

"They really meant a lot to you, didn't they?" Sarah said softly.

"More than they'll ever know," he swallowed again and slouched back in his chair. Sarah Jane regarded him closely.

"This is really eating you up, isn't it," she said, unable to keep the slightest hint of surprise from her voice. "That you never said good-bye?"

"I hate good-byes," the Doctor frowned.

"That's just words," Sarah Jane retorted. "They may have fit you once, but not anymore. I know you better than that."

The Doctor regarded her through narrowed eyes. "You do, don't you," he said. "Even after all this time."

"Perhaps because of all this time," Sarah Jane smiled. "You're not the only one who's changed, old man. You were my family once. You were my world. But now I've grown up, and I've got a world of my own."

"Yeah," he said, the affection in his smile spilling over into his eyes. "Yeah you have. And now you're giving me advice." He grinned. "Sarah Jane Smith: psychologist from the stars."

Sarah Jane smirked. "The doctor is in," she quipped. "After all, even Time Lords need a friendly shoulder now and then."

"Yeah," the Doctor nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I suppose I do."

Sarah Jane watched him, drumming her fingers lightly over her newspaper in a hesitant manner. "You know…" she said after a while. "There could be a way."

"Hmm?" he frowned. "A way?"

"A way for you to say good-bye. To Rose."

"No," the Doctor said firmly. "I can't go back on our own timeline."

"I don't mean that," Sarah shook her head, then sighed. "I'm thinking in human terms here. It may sound foolish to your Time Lord logic, but for us, when we're missing someone we love, it can help to revisit places we went together…maybe even talk out loud, as though the person was still there."

The Doctor made a face. "What, and have the locals cart me away as a loony?"

Sarah Jane shrugged a bit sheepishly. "Well, it was just a suggestion. But I'll tell you this. I went back to Loch Ness once, when I was missing you. There was no one there to hear me, and I wasn't even sure why I'd come, but I poured out my guts that day. To the rocks, to the water, to the trees. And afterwards, I felt better. So, maybe, if you went back to a place you went with Rose…" She trailed off a bit helplessly. But the Doctor's expression was miles away.

"Yggiz Tsudrats," he said after a moment.

"Pardon?" Sarah frowned.

"Yggiz Tsudrats," the Doctor repeated. "It's a…a small leisure world in the Kastrian system (1). I went there once with Rose." He gave a wistful smile. "It was a good day."

"Right then," Sarah Jane brightened. "You could go there."

"Yes I could," the Doctor nodded, then fixed her with his dark stare. "And so could you…if you like…"

"Doctor…?"

"I mean it, Sarah Jane," he said, stumbling over the words at first, but growing rapidly more excited as he spoke. "You said yourself I'm better off with company this time round. You could come with me. Yggiz Tsudrats is a beautiful place. Everything is made of crystal–the plants, the animals, even the people. And they have this brilliant marketplace I know you'd love. And the sea–the sea is a rich, dark purple. It has this almost jell-like quality, and at night the diatoms–"

"No."

The Doctor blinked and his eager expression melted away. "Sorry?"

"I said no."

"Oh, but Sarah, think a moment. You can't just–"

But Sarah was shaking her head. "I'm old now, Doctor," she reminded him, her eyes sad but her expression wry. "Ever so much more than twenty (2). Besides I have a life here–a life you forced me to build with responsibilities I can't ignore. But–" she said quickly, cutting off his protest, "but I'll always be here…if you need a friend." She smiled. "For all eternity, however long you live, however many faces you wear, I'll be right here. Tea and biscuits at the ready."

He nodded, swallowing his rising emotion, and she could tell he truly understood. Slowly, she rose to collect her things, only to gasp when she found herself engulfed in an unexpected, powerful hug.

"Dear Sarah," the Doctor spoke against her hair. "My dearest Sarah Jane. I do love you, you know."

Sarah Jane sniffed against his shoulder, her shoulders shaking in a silent, bittersweet chuckle as she hugged him back. "I know," she told him. "I know."

"I'm sorry, Sarah. I'm so sorry."

"Then you're learning," she said, pulling back so she could look at his face. "Go on," she smiled, giving his cheek an affectionate peck. "Say your good-byes. We small-minded humans may never appreciate all you do, but this ungrateful universe needs its champion whole."

To Be Continued…

References:

(1) Reference to the Tom Baker episode The Hand of Fear. The silicon-based, crystalline criminal Eldrad was from the planet Kastria. Since it's indicated in The Stones of Blood (another Tom Baker episode) that silicon-based life forms are very rare, I figured Yggiz Tsudrats and Kastria would probably have to be relatively close by to have branched off in such a similar evolutionary vein.

(2) Reference to J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan, and what Wendy said to Peter when he came back for her several decades too late.