The Lines of Fellow Travelers
By Trynia Merin
I don't own Dr. Who, the BBC does. This story is sort of an alternate scenario. with the Third Doctor encoutering Harry Sullivan as a companion, instead of having him join the TARDIS crew when he did. Also, Sarah Jane is naturally in this story. I wrote this a while ago, and this is the story that leads up to what I posted mistakenly under the Fourth Doctor.
Prologue 1
"Now for the science report... Geologists at Cambridge have found the strange rocks recovered from the Antarctic research station are in fact pieces of a meteorite, its original origin yet to be determined."
Inside the small kitchen, a portable silver transistor radio blared the noon news. However, the slim dark haired woman bustling about in the adjoining dining room only listened with one ear. "Just where did I put my camera?" she wondered, placing her hands on her hips.
"The Palfrey food processing plant has announced that they will be adding a new and improved preservative to some of their main products. Health services expert Richard Kowalski says that tests show no apparent risk to potential customers."
Sarah Jane Smith found her black 35-mm camera, and thrust it into her bag with a flourish of triumph. "Ten minutes, and we'll see if your report's bunk or not, Kowalski," she said, looking at her watch.
"Weather today should be mild, with occasional showers, so don't put away those brollys yet, you Londoners!" quipped the weatherman on the BBC radio.
"Good day to you too," smiled Sarah Jane smugly as she switched the radio off with a sharp click. Putting on her favorite white sweater and matching hat, she shouldered her leather travel bag. She had her suspicions about this food additive that supposedly enabled Palfrey's prepackaged snacks to remain fresh far beyond the average shelf life.
Out the front door she went from her South Croydon apartment. Normally, Sarah Jane didn't write many articles concerning technology, but covering this story would pay off well. A journalist took the best offers nowadays. "At least it's not the `woman's angle' stuff I've been doing for the past few months," she told herself as she climbed into her orange convertible. Still as she drove away from South Croydon, Sarah Jane couldn't help but think of the space rocks. Since her aunt Lavinia was a well-known virologist, she'd always kept an interest in research science.
***
BEEP! BEEP! BEEEP!++
"This is BBC-1 radio broadcasting station. It is presently three o'clock post meridian time. And now for a news update."
A tall white haired fellow paced the floor of his science lab. Trestle tables loaded with a mess of scientific equipment, both old and ultra modern, lined the whitewashed brick walls. "Oh how dreadfully irritating!" he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with one large hand. "Why the deuce won't they give me a sample to test?" With arms folded across the chest of his velvet smoking jacket, he listed pensively.
"Presently, researchers at Oxford have found that the samples of meteorite contain amino acids of a protein not common on earth. It is thought that this news could refute the theory that life on Earth arose from constant heavy bombardment of meteors. However, Professor Stephenson of life sciences department refuses to let any further investigations or information to be released," answered the radio.
"The idiot!" exclaimed the Doctor crossly, directing his frustration at the indifferent radio. "He doesn't know what he's getting into! Confounded bureaucracy every time!"
***
Chapter 1
She felt a dizziness swell into her forehead. Sarah Jane blinked, trying to force the headache away. There was still so much to do today, and the freelance journalist wasn't about to let a simple pain in the head stop her from securing this story.
"What did you say was the source of this food additive, again?" she asked the man seated behind the modern desk.
Sarah stood among other journalists and reporters, all scrambling for an interview at the press conference. The orange walled office galled her eyes, not to mention the whirring clicks and flashes of cameras assaulted her brain. Still, she struggled on.
"That question, Miss Smith is a trade secret, I'm afraid," answered the official patiently. He calmly pushed his horn rims up onto his nose and withstood the onslaught of questions.
"Can you at least give our readers an idea of what this additive is like in its raw form?" asked a reporter from the Daily Mirror, tentatively.
"What I can say is that the additive is a relatively new development. It's a sort of protein supplement as well as a remarkable preservant. The company calls it Amnocine."
"Who discovered and developed this additive?" asked Sarah.
"Amnocine was researched by a team from Cambridge, with some chaps from the states. Quite a few good men and women."
Sarah again stared at the handwriting on her lined notebook. Words seemed to smear together. Her mind drifted back to earlier that afternoon. She herself had tried to see some of those researchers at Oxford's space geology department, to hopefully write another story about the space rocks with amino acid inside them. However, the fellow at the front desk brusquely whisked her out the door with a curt "Top secret! No nosy reporters allowed!"
This might have meant a news leak, but Sarah began to smell a big coverup. That's when she'd gone to UNIT. Before an almost uninterested Brigadier she'd spilled her suspicions about the space rocks, only to be politely reminded that UNIT had more important concerns.
In a last effort, she went to see the Scientific Advisor. Sometimes in the past she'd given him information he couldn't get normally. But like most times, he'd already been to Oxford himself, and only half hearkened to her story. "That fellow always thinks one step ahead of me," she'd muttered. Preoccupied with the Amnocine program. Yet he suspected a connection between Amnocine and the research block on the space rocks. "How typical," giggled Sarah. "What possible connection could there be?"
"Mizz Smith.. arg u elll?" broke in a voice. Reporter Johnson of Science Digest sat at her side, voices low and garbled. "I say, are you well?"
Blinking, the journalist shook her head. "I think so. Just slipped away for a moment," she managed to say. "Will you excuse me?" Slowly she rose from her folding chair, crossing the rocky unstable floor. Once in the ladies room, she splashed her face with cold water, and tried to brush her dark hair. "Awfully pale," she muttered, noting her complexion in the vanity mirror. Indeed her smooth young skin was white and drawn, as if she hadn't slept in two days. Her hand fumbled in her purse for powder, but instead found a strangely shaped object. To Sarah's astonishment, she held a gray rock glistening with a horrifyingly familiar fungi.
"If the amino acid hits oxygen, Lord knows what would happen. That's the reason for the vacuum case."
Some of the substance already had migrated to her hand. A stinging burn shot up her nerves. "One... of the space rocks, in my bag," she gasped.
To the surprise of people in the hallway, a dark haired slender woman blundered from the restroom and collapsed face down on the hard tile floor. Phrases like, "Check her pulse," and "Let her get some air," echoed in Sarah's ears as she slid into blackness.
***
The Doctor's debonair features hardened into concern as he studied Sarah's couched form on the hospital bed. Her pulse throbbed faintly in her thin cold wrist. He saw her skin take on a glossy, almost glassy sheen. With him in the sterile white room stood other physicians, babbling with confusion. "It's like nothing I've ever dealt with before," sighed Dr. Buchanan, the reputable medical doctor from UNIT said. "Bally confusing. That's why I figured I'd call you in, Doc. you seen anything like it."
"May I borrow your stethoscope, sir?" the Doctor requested. The civilian physician, Dr. John Davis, stared indignant as the tall Doctor snatched his stethoscope and pushed past him to examine Sarah. "Who does this crank think he is, taking over my patient?" he demanded.
"You called UNIT in," Harry Sullivan shrugged. "So don't go complaining to me. After all, I only want what's best for the old girl!"
"Do be quiet a minute old chap," muttered the Doctor, waving him away. "I'm trying to hear a heartbeat."
The physician felt Leftenant Sullivan's hand on his arm. "Don't worry, John," he whispered. "This chap knows what he's doing. Brigadier Lethbridge Stuart vouches for him, and so do I."
"Well, if he's such an expert, will he mind telling me if this malady is known to science?"
"Unfortunately I've seen this illness before," admitted the Doctor as he listened with the borrowed stethoscope.
"What on Earth is it then?" demanded the indignant physician.
"Not on Earth," corrected the Doctor. "In fact this disease is a unique form of silicon poisoning. Some of the protein ribosomes in her skin cells are making a deadly surrogate protein, and somehow silicon is being put in place of the base carbon."
"That's ridiculous!" interrupted Dr. Reichardt. "Where would the silicon come from?"
"The organism transferred enough from the space rock while she was holding it."
"And why, pray tell did she suffer headaches before? Stress?"
"Not exactly old chap. Airborne spores from the organism already infected her skin, but the rock accelerated the process."
Sullivan ran a hand through his short dark hair, his hat hanging on the coat rack hair. "What do we do, Doctor?" he asked, as calmly as if she'd always suspected the unknown.
"Well," began the Doctor, rubbing his nose. "There may be a way, but it might take time, and that's a resource Sarah has precious little of at hand."
"Are you going to stand here and listen to this quack?" asked the annoyed physician, Dr. John Davis.
"In the meantime, what can we do?" asked Sullivan.
"Unless you have a BETTER suggestion," the Doctor snorted, shaking his head as he looked at Harry.
"I'd listen to him. He's brilliant," said Harry.
"Good man. I suggest skin grafts for the afflicted areas, and immediate infusions of human amino acids," finished the Doctor, straightening up.
Taking one last look at Sarah, the Doctor carefully pulled the blanket up around her chin. Facing Dr. Buchanan, he shook her hand. "I leave her in the care of you and your capable colleagues," he said.
"Ahem," coughed the other physician.
"OH, here you are sir," said the Doctor, handing back the stethoscope to him. Reaching for his long scarf and coat, the Doctor smiled reassuringly at the astonished group of physicians before exiting. "I'll let you all know the instant I have a cure in sight."
"How comforting," sniffed the physician. "I don't believe the nerve of that crank, barging in here and monopolizing the place! Airborne spores in space rocks, absolute rubbish!"
"If he doesn't know what's going on, then I doubt if anyone else will."
"What does the chap do? Write science fiction?"
"He is a doctor, and UNIT's Scientific Advisor,"
said Dr. Buchanan. "Smith... or is it Jones?"
"Doctor of what? Doctor who? Who the blazes is he?"
***
"Bessie" streaked down the M-1 in overdrive, at nearly one hundred miles an hour. Speed was imperative, and the sprightly yellow roadster had plenty to spare. The Doctor's mind raced at a far greater velocity than the cars flashing past him on the highway. Just where had he seen the protein before? Groping for an answer, his lips mouthed silent words. Zwomph, rrush... zwomph rrnnn! Whistling wind blended with the Doppler shift wine of oncoming traffic. His own hands and feet moved instinctively on "Bessie's" pedals and steering wheel; she knew where to go.
***
Back at UNIT HQ, Sergeant Benton stood smartly as he issued orders to his squad of privates. One barked order from him, and they all marched neatly away in two columns. As the hefty handsome Benton began to follow, a tall theatrical figure with a black cloak streaming behind brushed past him. "Good afternoon, Doc," said Benton politely. His military courtesy was met with a gruff, "Excuse me please, in quite a hurry now," as the Doctor disappeared down the hallway. "Must be in one of his scientific thinks," Benton assumed, scratching his short hair under his green beret.
Not wasting a single moment, The Doctor hastily gathered up his field equipment. Test tubes, slides, particle analyzer, along with some electronic spares and protein samples clink clanked together in his bag. "What else, what else," he pondered, rubbing his long fingers together in irritation.
"Aha! Yes," he cried suddenly with a snap of his fingers. "Interstitial molecular locator." Pawing through a number of devices in a cardboard box, he extracted one particular gizmo. He blew the dust off, wrinkling his face in an effort to stifle a sneeze.
A resounding "Aaachoo!" shook the lab.
"Bless you, Doctor," spoke a familiar voice from behind him. An exasperated Doctor turned to find Brigadier Lethbrige-Stuart standing in the doorway.
"Brigadier! You nearly took one hundred years off my life sneaking in here without knocking like that!"
"Sorry about catching you unawares," apologized the Brigadier with a slight smile under his moustache. "But there's been a problem with red tape at Oxford... space research... about those space rocks."
"Not just that, but a great deal more," broke in the Doctor. "Brigadier, you must put a halt to those idiots at that food processing company!"
"My blokes are right onto it, but I need you to explain just why."
"Not this time, I'm afraid, Lethbrige-Stuart."
Spotting the Doctor's familiar black bag in his hand, the Brigadier said accusingly, "Not another one of your little trips again, Doctor."
"My dear Brigadier, this is not just another `little trip'!" snapped The Doctor. "The fate of your entire world depends on my next `excursion'!"
"Very well Doctor," sighed the Brigadier. "But do be careful, and don't hang about. Don't go rocketing off to Jupiter or somewhere else by mistake."
The Doctor released his tense breath. "Not to worry, old chap. The TARDIS may be getting on a bit, but she's still a few surprises left in her." Producing a strangely shaped key from his vest pocket, he unlocked the door to his "police box".
"Good luck, Doctor," said the Brigadier solemnly. Taking one last look at his lab, The Doctor slipped inside the oblong blue cabinet of his TARDIS. Soon the lab vibrated with the groaning wheeze characteristic of dematerialization. For a moment, the Brigadier watched as it blinked in and out of existence. "Be back soon, Doctor," he muttered.
***
However the Doctor had another destination in mind first. He turned the TARDIS controls to a quick hop. If those Gallifreyan idiots could see the tight control he had since they had yielded his dematerialization circuit, what would they say? Perhaps their usual flippant remarks, the Doctor muttered to himself.
As he materialized he shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He'd known Sarah Jane Smith such a short time, and yet she had time and again shown she was far more stronger then the usual "fairer sex" on this planet. How long had it been since Jo Grant and Liz Shaw had been working alongside of him? He'd underestimated both in some way, and earth females never ceased to amaze him.
Sarah Jane Smith was no exception. The Doctor resolved that he owed her his life a few times. Especially when she'd blundered into his investigation and ended up winning the trust of medieval lords and ladies, to help defeat Lynx, the Sontaran castaway. In the few months they had come to know one another, he grudgingly admitted the spirited journalist was someone he could trust, nosy though she could be. The irritation had soon evolved into respect, and a warm affection. On their last trip, to Peladon she'd even shown the depths of her loyalty, which quickly resembled Jo's. It was something the Doctor missed more then he was willing to admit. Someone to admire him, and someone with whom he could share his desire to explore alien worlds.
Even though he owed the brigadier much, he felt the need to disassociate his ties with the place of his former exile with each passing day. Perhaps she would be amenable to joining him on longer jaunts. After all, she had no ties to this world save her aunt Lavinia, who was pushing her out into the world, which Sarah groused about but didn't mind in the least.
But before she could, he'd have to repay an old debt. And he couldn't leave her in the care of these idiots on Earth, even if they DID listen to him or not. Opening the door he tiptoed into the hospital room, seeing Sarah Jane lying on her hospital bed fast asleep. Sullivan had been true to his word, and she had several inches of skin grafted to the affected sides of her face and arms.
He approached closer, wondering how to best transport her into the TARDIS. He couldn't very well leave her here, and he needed to get her inside without arousing suspicion. Leaning over her, he patted her hand and whispered softly, "Sarah Jane? Sarah, can you hear me, it's the doctor."
She moaned softly, her attractive black lashes fluttering as she tossed her head in a fevered dream. "No. nnno. gerrof. let me go. you stupid mediaeval. ohhhhh this can't be."
"Sarah Jane, it's the Doctor." he whispered, gently stroking her hair out of her face as he would have done if it were Jo. It was a reflexive response, and he felt a chuckle come to his lips. Although he sorely missed Jo, Sarah Jane was rapidly becoming someone with whom he could share his odd journeys. Even if she WAS in the habit of not listening to him. just like Jo.
"No. Doctor. watch out. the monster." Sarah gasped, and suddenly jolted awake, her arms flailing as she sought to fend off whatever danger haunted her dreams.
"Sarah Jane, it's me, it's all right," the Doctor shushed her as he gently held her down on the bed, and put a hand over her mouth to quiet her. She blinked up at him, her vision blurry as she felt his hands restraining her. The kindly face under the shock of gray hair and the ruffled blue shirt swam into focus, and she saw his eyes gazing down at her in concern.
"Doctor. where am I. I feel so muzzy," Sarah groaned.
"Shh, you have to relax. I've come to take you away from all this, to coin a phrase. Your life is in grave danger, and you must come with me in the TARDIS now."
"Why what.. What's happened to me. I felt my hand brush against some odd space rock and. am I in hospital." she gasped. "What do you MEAN my life is in grave danger."
He sighed as she clutched his arm, her dark eyes demanding an explanation. "Sarah, you have to pull yourself together and get up. We have to leave now before they discover they've mislaid you. or we'll be in a spot of bother."
"What do you mean in trouble?" she asked. "Some alien plague? My arm. what happened. I feel so strange."
"If you can't stand up, I'll help you," the Doctor said as he slid his arm behind her back. "but we MUST leave now. I have to take you with me. You're suffering from silitoxis, a rare disease by which the carbon atoms in your body are being replaced with silicon. in a matter of hours you'll be solid rock if we don't find a cure. And we can't find it here on earth."
"Surely you must be joking." she said with a small smile. But the look in the doctor's eyes told her he was dead serious.
"No Sarah Jane, you and I have to go on a journey. I've developed a chemical antidote for now, to halt the progress of the virus. but it is only temporary." he said, sliding up her sleeve as he produced a vaccine gun from his pocket. Sarah saw him press it to her wrist. "This will only pinch a bit."
"Just WHERE did this come from? The rock I touched?" she asked.
"Yes," he nodded as he pressed the trigger. "And now we must be off."
"So you and I are just going to waltz off in the TARDIS and go in search of a cure that is on some alien planet?" Sarah laughed, shaking her head, which throbbed. "You're joking."
"I wish I was." he said as he held out his hand. "Now, try and sit up, and see if you feel well enough to walk."
"All right. but where are we going. or when?" Sarah asked, with the same confusion. Was this some odd dream in her fever-induced state? She knew the Doctor was someone she could trust with her life, but it seemed odd that he insisted she go with him. She pulled aside the covers and the Doctor held up a robe and draped it around her shoulders. He averted his gaze in a gentlemanly manner that made her chuckle, and she tied the belt of the gown around her.
"The source of the disease," the Doctor said as he clutched her hand and she stood up on shaky feet.
"Whoops now," she gasped as the floor rocked under her bare feet and she landed againsd the doctor. He steadied her against his tall lean body and gently slid an arm around her waist.
"All right now." he said softly. "Let's get you into the TARDIS."
"Wait just a minute, pins and needles," Sarah griped as she stumbled next to him. His hand steadied her, and his body, a bit cooler then humans. she knew he was a time lord, but his touch was like ice!
A gentle knock came at the door, and the Doctor mumbled, "No time, if you'll allow me, Sarah Jane."
She gasped in surprise as he slid his hand under her knee and lifted her effortlessly into his arms to carry her toward the TARDIS. "Hang about. what's all this?" she laughed, her face twisting in a frown of irritation.
"WE have no time for games," the Doctor mumbled as he carried her qu8ckly over to the TARDIS in the corner, and struggled to unlock the door with his arms full of Sarah. She turned to hear the click of the door opening, and felt the Doctor's arm move as he unlocked the TARDIS door, and pushed it open with his foot. Turning to one side, he was about to carry her inside.
"Here now, what are you playing at?" demanded a cheerful voice, as Leftenant Sullivan pushed open the door.
"Oh good grief," the Doctor mumbled as he was stuck there, holding Sarah in his arms, and propping the door open with his foot.
"Just WHAT do you think you're doing!" Harry Sullivan shouted. "that's my patient!"
"Harry Sullivan, I have NO time to explain!" the Doctor snapped as he stepped into the TARDIS, carrying Sarah.
"Wait a minute we can't just." Sarah protested as he carried her into the TARDIS control room and set her down on a Louis IV chair that was to one side of the console. In his haste he forgot to close the door as he slid the test tube into the TARDIS Scanner, and reached for the door controls.
"You can't just play games Doctor!" shouted Sullivan as he barged into the TARDIS door, which was closing.
"Doctor stop!" shouted Sarah as she pointed, and Harry was jammed in a rather undignified pose between the doors.
"Great balls of fire, what a nuisance"! the Doctor slapped the console.
"Good lord." Sullivan gasped as he saw that his upper half was jammed between large massive doors, and the inside of what would have been a small blue box was in fact a bright and massive control room.
"You can't just let him stay there!" Sarah shook her head.
"Honestly," the doctor mumbled as he opened the door controls. Sullivan gasped as he stood there shakily, and the Doctor grabbed him and pulled him in as they heard other voices in the hall.
"Doctor, what is going on?" Sullivan gasped as the Doctor hauled him in and the doors shut behind them. "I demand to know what's happening. and where Miss smith is."
The Doctor felt him struggling, and Harry actually managed to twist out of his grasp.
"I've got NO time to explain," the Doctor snapped.
"this must be an illusion that's it."
"Harry, don't be an idiot!" Sarah said, as she tried to get up out of the seat, but felt her head spinning. She grabbed the console for support as the Doctor turned to try to steady her.
"Sarah, don't get up, you're not well enough!"
"You have FIVE minutes to explain what this joke's about or else." Sullivan shouted, totally confused and disoriented as he took a step toward the Doctor.
"HAI!" the Doctor shouted, and before he knew it the navy surgeon felt two fingers jam into his neck, and his body stopped rigid before the Scientific Advisor's touch. He gurgled, gasping as he was pinioned there.
"Doctor!" Sarah cried. "Was THAT really necessary?"
"He'll be QUITE all right, as you well know," the Doctor mumbled as he caught the falling body and lay Sullivan gently on the floor. "He'll only be unconscious for a bit. Long enough for us to get to where we need to go. why did he have to put his foot in!"
"Can't we simply put him back?" Sarah asked.
"I've put you in quite enough double as it is," the Doctor mumbled. "And the last thing I need are a bunch of hamfisted bunglers asking a lot of fool questions."
Crossing over to the console he depressed some levers, and pulled back on the dematerialization circuit. A wheezing groan shuddered the whole room, and he steadied Sarah against him as he helped her to sit in the chair again.
"What do we do with him?" Sarah shook her head. "He's going to be AWFULLY confused!"
"Well, I suppose he MAY be of some use." the Doctor sighed. "but I can't very well have him causing any more problems. And you don't look so well. perhaps you should have a lie down."
"Doctor, I feel well enough," Sarah shook her head, and moved to stand up on shaky feet. She didn't like being treated like glass, and the Doctor's patronizing bothered her immensely at times like this.
"I insist." the Doctor said as he helped steady her again, and she fell into his arms briefly. She shook her head as she glanced over his shoulder to see the central column rising and falling, and behind it, Harry's legs as he lay there on the floor. Sighing she let the Doctor picked her up again and carried her into the other maze o the TARDIS rooms. His hands under her knees and back were cold, but he did not struggle with her weight at all. While she was a rather slender thing, she had one or two unfavorable times when someone had picked her up before. and dropped her!
"Mind you, don't BANG my head!" Sarah griped as she clung to the doctor's cloaked shoulder.
"Sarah Jane, just shush for a moment." he mumbled. "I think Jo's room will do."
"But Sullivan."
"I'll tend to him when you're settled," he said as he nudged a door to the size of the gleaming corridor open, and neatly turned to one side to avoid banging Sarah's head or feet on the doorframe. She saw the lights flare on automatically, and saw the room she had glimpsed once or twice. There were posters of the Who and the Beatles on the walls of the small cozy room. A sofa bed had been folded out of the wall, and he carried her over to lay her gently on it and pull a few blankets over her.
"There's no need," she protested. "I'm feeling fine. your concoction worked!"
"Only for a time." the Doctor said as he felt her forehead and pulled the covers just under her chin. She felt his cool hand press to her forehead, while his other gripped her wrist to feel her pulse. Sarah saw the grimness in his features, though he tried to mask them with a tight smile. As she glanced impatiently around him she saw the bed was near a Victorian style dresser with large mirror. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of her face and let out a cry.
"What's. happening. to me."
"Shhh steady on Sarah Jane," he urged, smoothing her hair out of her face. "I told you, it was sillitoxis. But don't you worry. Just try and relax. and rest."
"why didn't you TELL me it was this serious. my face.." she gasped as she craned her neck around his body to see her reflection. Skin grafts covered the area of her wrists and arm, and the left half of her face, which were swathed in bandages. Like something out of a Hammer flick, she thought as her blood ran cold. Her chin wobbled and the Doctor shook his head as he held her gently to the bed.
"That's what I tried to tell you," he shushed her. "I'm going to find the source of the disease, and you'll be all right. But you MUST stay calm. Why did you think I brought you with me?"
"You're usually trying to get RID of me," she mumbled as he kept her from rising again, and waved his hand over the illumination panel to dim the lights.
"Nonsense, Sarah Jane. That was before I realized. I rather got used to having you about," he said with a slight laugh. "And besides, aren't you my assistant?"
"Hey, that's right," she laughed weakly, realizing he'd given her that designation during the business with the dinosaurs.
"Can't have my newest assistant suddenly taken ill and left in the hands of twentieth century idiocy."
"Here now, it's not THAT backward!" Sarah snapped, her old defiance showing.
"Go to sleep. I'll wake you when we're there," he said.
"Right," she mumbled, as she turned on her side. "Knowing YOU you'll leave me IN here and nip off and have all the fun.."
"Rest well, Sarah Jane," the Doctor said as he adjusted the pillows under her neck, and again brushed her hair from her cheek. Was it her imagination or did his touch seem a bit more delicate that usual?