A/N: This little drabble took quite the journey to get here! At first, this was hand-written after a good cry about The Hand of Fear's ending after I first saw it forever ago. Then, I typed it up and shared it with a few friends— gradually, the story faded from the forefront of my mind, the original copy somehow lost, then, just this evening, a year and a half later, I happened to think about posting some things— I pulled out my binder to see what I had, and "alas!", there it was!
I own nothing. The beautiful minds of the collective BBC crew/geniuses (genii?) have endowed the world with the ever-expanding awesome adventures of Doctor Who.
The Shadows of Hope
(Sarah Jane Smith)
She waited there for him, there on the cold, hard concrete step of her flat.
She waited until her back was stiff and sore and each light in the homes across the way had been snuffed out. He would return, that much she knew. It was cold and her arms prickled with goose bumps.
Her vision hadn't adjusted well to the dark, and somehow every stray cat that flitted around a bush and disappeared had become the tail of his abnormally long and colorful scarf. Every trench-coated stranger that melted and faded with the shadows was him. Once, she'd even sprung from her silent vigil and grasped a passerby by the shoulder and, within moments, was apologized to the poor older gentleman whom she had taken by surprise. She resumed her silent wait. She sat for hours— or maybe it was minutes.
She didn't know.
Then again, if there was one thing she'd learned in travelling with the Doctor, it was that time was irrelevant. Long after her teeth had begun to chatter, and her lids had grown heavy, she finally slumped against the brick wall and faded from consciousness. In her dreams, faning in and out were streams of thought, showing her blue boxes with roaring, wheezing engines and a man with a silly smile and crooked hat. Sarah Jane woke with a start as she heard a passing car's engine wheeze and groan as only the TARDIS engine could. She sighed and sat back against the cool wall of her almost-home-again. She'd go inside later and sip some tea and watch the sunrise make patterns on her bedroom wall— she'd buy some Jelly Babies later too— but for now, she was content to gaze up at the stars. He'd come back, one day. She was sure of it. But for now, she sat in the silence of an English night and watched the stars, winking at her, as though they knew her secret. Vaguely, she wondered if she'd been on any of the stars visible from her tiny step. No one would believe her.
No— her travels with the man in the funny blue box would remain private, locked away in her dreams and memories, until the day when he came back to her.
She would wait, there in her tiny flat, ever remaining his Sarah Jane.
A/N: I personally feel that this is hands-down one of the BEST pieces in any fandom I have written for, but please, feel free to leave your thoughts in the box below! Constructive criticism is helped and appreciated!