Title: End of the Tunnel
Author: Eris
Rating: K
Characters: Sarah Jane Smith, Four
Summary/Notes: "In Brain of Morbius Sarah Jane Smith is temporally blinded. What if the effects were more lasting? Would she have continued to travel with the Doctor? An arc about finding the cure for her blindness? Would he have left her behind when he received the summons to Gallifrey?" kijikun--I got bit in the bum by a plot bunny. It has tied me to my chair for the last hour and made me write this fic. No beta, sorry: comments and criticism welcomed and lusted after, especially seeing as this is my first whofic. ;)

Sarah Jane fished the sonic screwdriver out of her pocket and extended it in the Doctor's direction; somehow it found its way directly into his hand, and she let her head thunk back against the console as his industrious noises continued unabated. She listened for just a moment before dragging herself to her feet. "I'm going to get cleaned up," she said, slightly louder than normal. The hatch that had swallowed the Doctor emitted an indistinct mumble which could have been an acknowledgement or a request for another tool, and she left quickly in case it was the latter.

One hand brushed against the wall as the other held the Time Lord's coat closed over a lingering shiver. Between her own experience and the TARDIS's faintly warm, maternal touch she could navigate well enough that she had plenty of mental space to devote to thinking. That wouldn't do, so she counted the doors her trailing hand encountered...which led to a more circuitous route so that the final tally would be an even number, but she wasn't in a hurry.

She finally reached her quarters and headed towards the shower with barely a pause to drop the Doctor's coat on the bed. Not for the first time she blessed Aunt Lavinia, whose lifetime doctrine of tidiness now made for far fewer sprained ankles than she otherwise might have acquired. Her red-striped overalls hit the floor of the washroom and seconds later she was under marvelously warm water. Her shivers finally dying down and a fine layer of ash washing down the drain, she rested her forehead against tile that somehow managed something like sympathetic warmth and licked a faintly salty drop of water off her lower lip. With no more doors to count, no more companion to entertain, she had no excuse for not thinking...so she did. This time her shudder had nothing to do with cold; she had experienced some terrible things in her time on the TARDIS, but few compared to picking her way through cold dark caves and knowing that every shuffled step kicked up stony ashes, the sharp awareness of her surroundings given by the stone hand long gone, and the Doctor's hands occupied with carrying Eldrad so that if she didn't want to plummet to her death she had to keep her small hands tightly wound in the back of his belt. Totally helpless. Oh, he had gallantly protested otherwise, of course, but Sarah Jane Smith was no fool.

Suddenly even the roomy shower seemed too confined, and with the most abbreviated of attempts at washing her hair she turned off the water and stepped out. Groping for her robe and a towel for her hair, she re-entered her bedroom. The door slid open with an encouraging little chirp and Sarah choked on a laugh. She caressed the door jamb with a fondness that any companion of the Doctor would recognize and managed to dredge up enough energy to properly wrap her hair in the towel before sinking down on the bed. The place where she sat down was lumpier than it should have been, and with a belated grimace she felt around until the sturdy material of the jacket was between her fingers. Working it out from underneath herself, she carefully spread it on the foot of the bed.

She honestly intended to get dried off and dressed straight away, but somehow she was still sitting in the same attitude when the friendly door chime signaled that her friend was requesting admittance. With a start she jerked out of he thoughts to the realization that her body was dry and her towel turban was wet. The momentary thought that she must look a fright was very momentary, and she only tugged the tie of her bathrobe more securely shut before calling, "Come in."

Her spacious bedroom was suddenly smaller-seeming, and she inwardly wondered for the thousandth time at how thoroughly the Doctor's quicksilver presence filled up a room. The object of her thoughts was at the side of her bed in two long-legged strides and before he sat down, rested a hand on her shoulder so that she would be aware of his proximity and intention. His understated courtesy overruled any resentment over her condition as easily as it always did, and she attempted a smile. She could tell from his voice that his answering smile was gentle. "I'm afraid I have something rather urgent to discuss with you, Sarah."

She looked up at him, matching courtesy. "What sort of something?"

"I've been called back to Gallifrey." He paused to allow her to interrupt if she wished, then continued: "It's almost certainly trouble."

He wasn't telling all of it, and she glared up at him with something like her usual spunk from where she had unconsciously leaned closer to the rumble of his chest. "Out with it, Doctor. Trouble's never made you pause before."

Before Sarah went blind, they perhaps both thought, but he obliged with her request. "Humans aren't allowed on Gallifrey, Sarah."

"Oh, come off it, Doctor," she complained, "as if a little thing like rules against it has ever given you serious pause."

"No, no, the results are usually worth the risk." Her turban was slowly sliding down towards her shoulders, and he gently retrieved it and smoothed a hand over her hair. "But the last time I was called back and took two of my very dear friends to my home planet the Time Lords wiped their memories of everything we had done together and sent them home."

"Oh, that's horrible!"

"Yes, it was. I'm terribly vain, you know, and like to have as many people thinking about me as possible." But they both knew she was thinking about how much she would hate to loose her best friend and cause him a similar pain, and he wrapped an arm around her slender terry-cloth clad shoulders.

Despite a clear attempt to be brave, Sarah's voice quivered slightly when she asked, "Are you going to take be back to Earth?"

She didn't notice that she didn't say 'back home', but the Doctor did. He noted it very carefully. "Well, it's not as simple as all that, I'm afraid. My people have advanced medical technology, you see." She didn't flinch as he almost absently touched a colder-than-human fingertip to each eyelid. "It's possible they might be able to do something about those lovely eyes of yours."

A million possibilities spoke up and began clamoring for attention, and with difficulty Sarah Jane spoke above them; "Could I think about it for a minute?" She hated the timidity in her voice.

"Of course, of course. Take your time." She began absentmindedly finger combing her hair and he stopped her after the first snag. "Here now, we don't want you thinking so hard you start tearing your hair. Where's your comb?"

"Um, on the dresser?"

He sprang off the bed with customary energy and returned with the object in just a moment. She could hear his trademarked toothy grin as he said, "Scoot over." Obediently she did so, and the bed sank under his weight as he settled in behind her. He was making her slightly nervous, and so she made a joke;

"Are we going to paint our nails as well?"

With a gentle tug at her earlobe he began untangling the damp strands. "Don't be smart, missy. I'm helping you overcome a distraction so you can think."

This is overcoming a distraction?! she thought a little wildly, but the motions of someone carefully combing her hair did have a calming effect. Closing her eyes more out of habit than necessity she thought it over very carefully indeed.

In the end it didn't take long at all for her to come to a decision, but the Doctor's big hands were proving to be as deft at plaiting hair as they were at fixing machinery and picking locks, so she decided to find something else to think about until he'd finished. The subject her mind finally settled on came as no surprise.

Sarah stumbled into the control room and smacked into the console. With a muffled curse that would cause Aunt Lavinia to wash her mouth out with soap she gave it a vindictive little kick and circled it cautiously, making her way to the door she knew to be on the other side of the control room. It was closed when she reached it and refused to open to her touch, and she growled in frustration. The TARDIS touched her with a feathery hint of comfort, but she refused t be comforted. With a second sullen kick, she spun around and slid down to sit on the floor.

"Sarah?" She knew he had entered, and he knew where she was, but everyone has their rituals. Even if she hadn't realized he was there the faint movement of the deck plates would have heralded his approach. He reached the door and settled down beside her.

"I suppose you'll be taking me back now? Selling violets, I told you." She knew she was being bitter and childish, but somehow she couldn't stop herself.

"Oh, Sarah." The words were expected but the tone was not. Instead of gentle chiding it was more like tenderness, and she realized only when his callused thumbs brushed across her cheeks that there were tears on them. "This isn't permanent, really it's not. Soran isn't the only scientist in the galaxy, and I know more than a few medical experts. There's this one fellow from Galbatorix IV who can exchange a patient's heart in the time it takes one of you humans to sneeze." Sarah couldn't hold back a whimper as the dam finally broke on her tears and the Doctor's voice gentled still further. "Here now, none of that." He rested his forehead against hers and his curls tickled her eyelashes as she blinked rapidly. His voice seemed to emerge from approximately the center of the earth as he spoke, and it reassured her. "I'll do everything in my power to fix this. You know that, Sarah Jane."

And he didn't even have to promise, because they both knew he was right.

She dragged herself out of the mire of memory when he stopped working with her hair. Sitting up straight and sniffling faintly, she turned blind green eyes upon her best friend. "Well, I've always wanted to see Gallifrey. If you'll pardon the expression."

"Right then!" He slid off the bed and landed with a thump on the ground. He had every indication of running straight for the console room, but she waited and sure enough he paused before leaving to tilt up her chin. "You're a good girl, Sarah Jane." There were times his voice was warm enough to shame the most effusive human, all the more precious for their comparative rarity, and this was one of them.

After he left Sarah fingered the end of her new braid and smiled to the empty room. "You're not so bad yourself, Doctor."