The Doctor was strangely quiet that morning, his eyes closed and fingers on his temples as he sat, still as a Weeping Angel, at the breakfast table. Amy chewed her toast loudly and Rory seemed to slurp his tea; only River could rouse him from his stupor, but it brought out a bit of unnecessary anger.
"Stop! Please!" he yelled as River called "Sweetie!" in an obnoxious voice from the refrigerator. "I'm trying to think here!" River tried to pass it off as "Monday mopes" with a half-pitying smile, and was thus shocked when, around noon, London time, April 18th 2011, the Doctor slammed his fists on the table, upsetting Amy's drink; his eyes shot open and he was yelling, "No no no no no!" as he raced from the kitchen to the console; River and Rory followed casually behind, unperturbed by his mood. As he ran a hand through his hair, River came to his side and began to pull the levers of the TARDIS alongside him, asking him where he wanted to go and assuring their timely arrival with her assistance.
Again, he snapped. "For once, River, could you please stop acting like you're the most important person in the universe? Because, at this very moment, you're not!" He approached her and she did not flinch away. "So if you could please, for once, just sit in that corner and don't talk to me!" He spun to address Amy and Rory, who seemed to slightly cower in the doorway. "Same goes for you!" He returned to the console, furiously concentrating.
His determination outweighed all errors; the TARDIS landed at the desired time, on the desire street, only the second time in the past three regenerations that had been so accurate. He pointed to the door and faced the trio that leaned against the wall. "You three. Out." They glanced at each other, but decided not to question him. As they left the TARDIS he called behind them, "I'll be back in an hour!"
The house was big and roomy - and warm. So pleasing on the eyes, and timeless. So much like it's owner, it's inhabitant.
He rubbed his eyes once more, and shouted a mantra in his head: It's all right, it's all right, it's all right!
No, it wouldn't be. This would be the longest hour of his life.
He rang the doorbell.
It took a few long, torturous moments for the door to open, but when it did, it revealed to him a new, different woman: no longer as youthful as he'd remembered; less lust for adventure in her eyes; thin hair, thin face, tiny figure. Sickly, pale.
But when she smiled, she was absolutely brilliant. Absolutely shining.
"Hello again," she murmured in a hoarse voice-but the happiness was unmistakable. The surprise, delight and - yes - understanding and acceptance, were all apparent in those two words.
The Doctor bowed his head. "Hello, Sarah Jane."
A delicate, rosy flush brightened the pale cheekbones. "Won't you come in?"
He smiled and she let him inside; in a flash, he examined the room, and took a seat directly across the seat she'd been resting in just seconds ago. When she eased herself in, the Doctor grabbed her hand. She lightly squeezed his fingers.
"Is it because-?" She gestured to herself, and the smile faded from the Doctor's mouth. He nodded. "I see." She fixed a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled shyly. "I'm sorry I look like such a mess."
"Oh, Sarah Jane," he murmured softly, lifting himself from the chair and taking her face in his hands, leaning in so close to her that they nearly touched. "My Sarah Jane." Lips on a cold forehead. "I think you look beautiful." She smiled under his palms. "You're beautiful, and bloody clever, and so important."
"Then why did you never come back?" Her voice was a slow whisper, and she quickly added "I'm not mad anymore, Doctor, I promise - I got over it long ago - I just - I need to know why - why you never came back."
Their eyes met, and slowly the Doctor released her, reclaiming his seat. He interlaced his fingers on his lap and leaned toward her.
"I've never formally apologised for that, have I?" He sighed. "I'm sorry for that, too." He studied his hands. "Sarah Jane, I am so sorry that I abandoned you like I did." He met her eyes. "I should have come back, at least to visit you - I should have stayed in your life. I uprooted you for so many years, and didn't even check in to see how you were doing." He hung his head. "It's what I do to everyone who comes with me. I take them, and I change them - even help them, if I'm lucky - and I just...drop them." He glanced through his bangs to look at her again. "I'm so sorry, Sarah Jane."
She took his clenched hands, and leaned in just forward enough to touch her lips to his cheek. "Thank you, Doctor. I forgive you. I've forgiven you a hundred times over."
He smiled carefully as he stood, and pulled her into one last, tight embrace.
"My Sarah Jane," he murmured.
She pulled away and wiped her eyes. "I'm going to die very soon, aren't I?" He didn't have to say it; she knew him well enough to read the answer in his face. She looked at her feet and straightened her shirt. "Well, then." She cleared her throat.
"I want to give you something," he said quickly, stalling her emotions with a distraction. He reached into his blazer as Sarah Jane watched him expectantly, a light smile tugging at her mouth. He chuckled as his hand reached around. "It took me a while to - oh!" His entire face brightened, and slowly took his hand from his pocket. "Sarah Jane, I give you-" and she gasped as she saw, grasped in his thin fingers, the scarf he'd always worn, all those years ago. Her hands covered her mouth. "-my scarf!" The multicolored relic tumbled to the floor, and the Doctor took it and draped it around Sarah Jane's still figure. She laughed, as did he. "Took me ages to fit it in that pocket. But! One more thing!" He held out a finger and reached back into his pocket as Sarah Jane held the scarf up to her cheek, breathing in its scent. Her eyes closed when he revealed the second gift, so he placed it upon her head. Her hand ripped the hat off and she stared at it in wonder.
"Are you - do you really want to give me these?" Her face shone with tears; he wiped them away with a gentle thumb.
"Of course I do, Sarah Jane."
And she was hugging him around his thin waist, clutching him - this was her only release of emotions, the only time where she would let herself show her true despair, her true love for the man that had forever changed her life.
He stroked her hair; he wasn't sure how he knew what she needed, as he was usually so awkward around people, always saying or doing the wrong thing. But in this hour, this most crucial hour, he was doing just what was needed of him.
"What do you say, Sarah Jane?" he asked. "One last spin in the TARDIS?" She nodded against his chest.
Amy, Rory, and River were still away, so the Doctor told her all about them - the little Scottish girl who waited, the soon-to-be doctor that noticed the little things, and the woman who was textbook enigmatic. She laughed at his tales as she examined this new TARDIS, complementing its color many times over. "It's just like you!" she said, straightening the hat on her head.
"Where would you like to go, Sarah Jane? All of the universe at your fingertips: where do you choose?"
She smiled. "Anywhere peaceful. No Daleks or Cybermen, if you please." The Doctor grinned.
"Coming right up!" And he yanked a lever.
Rory, Amy, and River patiently waited on the curb as their watches turned to read 2:30. Exactly one hour had passed.
"Maybe we shouldn't have taken him so literally," Rory suggested, glancing down the street.
Amy shook her head. "He'll show up. Just give him a few more seconds - I know it. I have a feeling."
Her words rang true: as they died on her mouth a strange win blew up the street, and a familiar noise hit their ears. Across the street, the TARDIS landed, and a laughing woman opened the door. Her face was bright, although a bit sickly; jovial, although weak. She wore a loose shirt and sweatpants, with a long, colorful scarf she stumbled over. A floppy brown hat sat on her head.
"Doctor, that was the best fun I've had in weeks!" she said with a dazzling smile, looking back at him with admiration. She sobered then, and seriously took his hands. He bent down to her to touch foreheads. "Thank you," she said softly, and even with her voice muffled from distance, the trio across the street could hear her sincerity.
The Doctor kissed her forehead for many seconds.
"Don't forget me."
The Doctor's grin was wide, but his eyes were wet.
"Oh, Sarah. Don't you forget me."
The following morning, the Doctor talked a mile a minute over his tea. Amy watched him, highly amused.
"And then that little green one says t-." He halted without warning, the expression of excitement dying on his face. His eyes closed with a long, weak sigh; his smile morphed into a grimace.
Amy took his forearm. "What is it? Doctor?" She shook him, and when a bit of the tea splashed his fingers, his eyes opened.
"She's gone now."
"Who - the woman you were with yesterday? How do you - how can you tell?"
He allowed himself a smile for her benefit. "I can feel it. I can feel everyone. But I can't feel her anymore." Amy took his hand, and he shook his head. "She lived a fantastic life - she was marvelous. The universe was lucky to have Sarah Jane Smith."