A/N: Hello people reading this fic. Enjoy~

Chapter 2: How Long Will This Take?

'Oh great. Another hippy prat who won't let me hold a gun and shoot! I save their lives; do I get a thanks? No! I get a whiny, high-pitched, pathetic: "Why did you kill it?"' the parallel Sarah Jane growled. 'I hate hippies.'

She turned around on her heel, prepared to flounce back to her Harley Davison.

'I'm not a hippie…' The pathetic trail of sound drifted behind her.

Sarah Jane swung back, her hands on hips.

'Sorry, my mistake,' she proclaimed sardonically, 'please forgive me; you're not a hippie, you're a pathetic, whiny little brat!'

She marched over to the awaiting motorcycle, vaulting into the leather seat. After a few revs, she zoomed off into the distance, leaving a trail of acrid smoke billowing behind her that clouded the stunned Doctor's vision.

The Doctor wedged himself off the blood-speckled concrete gingerly, feeling around for broken body parts. Finding none, he looked over at the unfortunate Lavedium, and immediately regretted the decision. It was black and red from clotting blood, with covered with large bullet holes. What calibre were the guns? He resisted the urge to throw up. Turning away, he pulled out his mobile phone and dialled the number for Torchwood, dropping off the details about the dead nose. After the information was logged in, he hung up and rubbed his hands together. OK, now Torchwood was coming for Nosey, he could actually do something.

Popping on his glasses, the Doctor inspected the bitumen closely. A grin spread over his face as he found what he'd been looking for, and then he proceeded to sprint after long trail of burnt road created by Sarah Jane.

It didn't take him very long to find her, because she was stuck behind a red light. Out of breath, the Doctor crept up to her ear.

'Hello, I found you!' he gasped.

She swung her head around sharply, clipping his nose with her helmet, took a moment to register who it was, then yelled, 'Screw this!' before turning around and veering off, swerving into a dodgy-looking alleyway.

The Doctor was left gobsmacked in the middle of the road. No one has ever done this to me! Only I leave people, not people leave me! This is shocking! People usually swoon forever over my dashingly handsome good looks! Even old ladies think I'm "dishy"! He was completely cut; his heart shattered into a million splinters.

He was aroused from his inner ramble when a Mercedes sped at him, horn blaring. He dived out of the way; that talent had been perfected ages ago. Well, actually, only as his other self. This was his unlucky first time; he landed head first into a nearby rubbish bin that had been oh-so conveniently left out in his flight path.

He found himself stuck to a rotting banana peel. Disgusted, he slowly extricated himself from the clutches of the yellow-brown octopus. Slowly, he climbed out of the bin. He then slowly walked off into the distance, into the slowly dipping sunset where Sarah Jane had biked off to at full speed.

12 hours later

Sarah Jane was awoken by a waft of smell that slowly seeped its way up her nasal cavities and a loud patterned knocking sound that made its way into her ear holes. She grabbed her pillow and shoved it over her head, and welcomed the wonderful world of unconsciousness. Two hours later, Sarah Jane was awoken by stronger wisps of stench – pure stench – storming its way up her unfortunate nose. A ta-ta-ta-tap rattled her front door and assaulted her delicate ear drums. She grabbed a pair of head phones and put on loud rock music ("Who Are You", the original album version, mind, which was long, loud and rude), to block out the irritating tapping.

As if that would help her delicate ear drums.

After waging a mini war with the tapping and volume knob, she could still hear the damned tapping. When the volume hit one hundred percent and there was no way in which Roger Daltrey could scream 'Who the **** are you?' any louder, she decided to check out the monster downstairs. She yanked the headphones off, dumping them unceremoniously onto her covers. As a precaution of the mysterious knocker, she picked up with a toy lightsaber, and an actual, working lightsaber in each hand.

She dashed down the stairs, bumping her head in the process. Wrenching open the door, she saw with considerable shock that it was a walking rubbish bin, and with a battle cry, she switched her real lightsaber on and brought it whooshing down. However, the walking rubbish bin suddenly moved, raising its hands and releasing a garbled flurry of words that could not be identified without highly sophisticated digital voice translation from fifty years in the future.

Suspiciously, Sarah Jane lowered her weapon of mass destruction and held up her weapon incapable of any destruction. With it, she poked it in the general chest and face area, squinting.

'You look awfully familiar.'

The Doctor's (as the walking rubbish bin had been him) eyes lit up with pure happiness.

'Yes!' he cried. 'It's me!'

'Yeh, it's you, isn't it?'

'Yes!'

'Yeh, I know you.'

'Yes!'

'You're a fan, arencha?'

'Yes! You finally recognised m – wait, what?"

'You're a fan, arencha?'

'No!'

'Then what are you?'

'I am an agent of secret stuff.' The Doctor grinned charmingly through an old Dairy Milk wrapper, puffing up his Asian-takeaway-box-covered chest in pride. 'I have all of time and space next to me. Well, before anyway – now I work for Torchwood.'

Sarah Jane rose an eyebrow in disdain and disbelief. She opened her mouth and said, 'Torchwood.'

'Yes.'

'Them.'

'Of course.'

'Wait – aren't you that hippy?'

'Yes.'

'Get off my lawn or my lack of lawn.'

'Wait, what?'

'You're Torchwood, right?' With copious amounts of suspense, Sarah Jane raised her weapon of mass destruction and held it in front of his chest.

'Well, not really…'

'You either are or you aren't. Three seconds.' Sarah Jane wielded the lightsaber menacingly at his throat.

The Doctor swallowed nervously, allowing himself to prepare to launch into a rambling speech about peace and weapons, which could probably save his weak human skin.

'No.' Rule one: The Doctor lies. Well, at least my other self did, I haven't lied that much in this world.

Sarah Jane was about to let him in, until her brain decided at that time to wake up properly and remind her that this man had been stalking her. And that she was going to be extremely late for work if she conversed with the idiot any longer.

And with that she slammed the door in his face.

The Doctor was gobsmacked. Again! Not only had she slammed the door in his face but she had also threatened him with an actual weapon! Not that he wasn't used to that. The Doctor decided to do something useful. He carefully hatched his plan, inconspicuously, of course.

He sneaked off gradually, on the lookout for new clothing. Preferably ones that didn't remind one strongly of a stink bomb that went wrong.

Sarah Jane sprinted upstairs to change into more appropriate clothing for the situation at hand, i.e. T-shirt, jeans, leather boots and leather jacket. Not to mention the usual sunglasses and the real lightsaber hidden inside her jacket.

Sarah Jane grabbed her guitar stuff bag as she tossed together some instant coffee. After that, she dashed out and leapt onto her Harley.

The Doctor watched from the shadows, proud of his new freshly-pressed blue suit. His plan was about to enter Phase One.