WHEN THE BOUGH BREAKS, PART 6
Thanks to all who've R&R'd so far, with special thanks to Kittenmommy for recommending the song lyrics used for this section!
"Me and Sarah Jane/ We had it coming/ All the pain/Walking down the streets and finding nothing is the same/Me and Sarah Jane/In silence, walk along the shore/Tears of joy, and mocking laughter/ Words lost in the wind/The tide was rising but there we stayed/We had no fear of dying, we weren't afraid."
"Me and Sarah Jane," by Genesis, from the "Abacab" album, copyright by Genesis, lyric used w/o permission.
Sarah was dreaming.
She was at a fancy dress party. Except it wasn't much of a party, because she was the only one there. The ballroom was lit by large white candles and shadows swept along the walls and ornate stained glass windows. She glanced at her reflection in a mirror. She was dressed in a pale blue satin gown, her hair swept up. She looked all right: in fact, she looked beautiful. It surprised her: she usually didn't think of herself that way. But here she was, looking smashing, all alone. Story of my life, I suppose, she thought.
Her back was to a set of ornately carved wooden doors, but she heard them open and whirled in surprise and fear.
The Doctor stood framed in the doorway. He wore a long dark blue velvet coat with tails, a crisp white shirt, a burgundy satin vest, and black gloves. A black top hat concealed much of his hair. He carried a black walking stick. He smiled and walked towards her. As he did, the doors swung shut, and she heard faint strains of music that gradually began to get louder. When he was only about two feet away from her he suddenly used the stick to push his top hat off his head, and sent both items flying across the room. The music was in full swing now, a waltz she didn't recognize. He reached out and took her hand, pulling her against him. She gasped as he fitted her body to his.
He danced superbly; sweeping her along the floor with such ease and grace she hardly felt her body move. Her hands had crept up to his neck of their own accord, resting on his shoulders. All the time they danced he smiled at her, but didn't say a word. Neither did she: there was nothing she felt she should say.
On and on they danced. She felt breathless and giddy. It was a moment for them and them alone, nothing to separate them, just him and her together...
The doors burst open.
They were everywhere. They swarmed into the room. Daleks and Cybermen and Kralls and the cultists of Mandragora and Sutek and the Wyrm and Morbius. They surged forward and seized the Doctor, pulling him from her arms. She gasped in horror, trying to pull him back.
"NO! No, you can't take him from me!" She cried.
She pulled with all her might, but they dragged him away, lifting him and carrying him up high while she ran after them, kicked and punching and screaming all the while. "You can't take him! Stop! Give him back!"
Insanely, she realized the music was still going. She looked in despair at the Doctor's face. He smiled at her with a sad, resigned smile, as if to say: 'well, what can I do?'
"No," she whispered. "Don't."
They sailed out the doors, leaving her alone.
"DON'T!" She shrieked, pounding on the doors with both fists. She slid down to the floor, sobbing helplessly as though she was dying. "Doctor..."
She flung her head back and screamed as loud as she could, a scream filled with rage and pain. "DOCTOR!"
She bolted awake with a strangled cry. She was on the bed. How did she get on the bed?
Her body was covered with a light sheen of sweat. She gasped for breath, clutching her hands to her chest. From behind her she felt cool hands encircle her waist. She jumped with a sharp cry. "No!"
"Sarah! Stop."
It was the Doctor. She sighed, relaxing. He drew her back until she rested against his bare chest, then wrapped his arms around her. She felt her heart thudding against him, going even faster than both of his in the aftermath of her nightmare. His breath stirred her hair as she twisted slightly so she could rest her head on his shoulder and press her face into his neck.
"Nightmare?" He asked.
She nodded.
"It's been awhile since that's happened," he said thoughtfully.
"Not long enough," she replied.
"Want to talk about it?"
She shook her head.
He sighed, repositioning her in his lap. "And you say I'm stubborn," he laughed.
"You are," she retorted.
"Takes one to know one, missy."
She managed a chuckle, reveling in the feel of her body pressed to his. After a few minutes she felt calm. She made to move, but the Doctor only tightened his hold. "It's all right," he murmured. She sank back, trembling as she felt his hands stroking her hair.
"Why, Sarah?" He asked softly.
"Why what?"
"Why did you come back, knowing I'd told you to stay away from me." There was no anger in his voice, only curiosity.
"I don't always do what I'm told," she answered saucily, and was rewarded by a laugh. "Seriously, though. I came back because... well, like I said. You need me here."
"Can you say that, knowing that I might hurt you?" He turned her around so that she was facing him and stared into her eyes.
"I want to help you," she whispered.
"You can't."
"Rubbish!"
"What can you do? What can you do that I won't do, or haven't already done?"
"You can talk to me."
"What if that isn't enough? What if my talking turns to shouting?"
"I don't care."
"And what if-"
"What if, what if! What if the dish runs away with the spoon? Stop worrying about the "what if's" and focus on the right now!"
She glared at him, causing him to chuckle. "I didn't know you could be so feisty."
"Well it's time you learned."
"I just don't want to hurt you."
"I know what you don't want. How about thinking positive?"
"What do you mean?"
"Instead of telling me what you don't want, why don't you tell me what you do want?"
"What I want?"
"Yes. You said something earlier about having dreams and desires. What are they?"
"I want..." His face grew pensive.
"Yes?" She asked. He hesitated, and she ran her hands through his hair, massaging his temples and scalp. He let out a tiny moan. "Tell me," she said quietly.
He spoke in a hushed, hesitant voice. "I want to run barefoot on the beach at Velhon Five. I want to work a crossword with a pen. The New York Times Sunday version, preferably. I want to see the solar energy waves pass through the sky of Epsilon. I want to have lunch with Da Vinci and Newton and Copernicus and Robert Frost. I want to learn to play the kazoo."
He reached up and took her hands in his, gazing deep into her eyes. "I want to taste marmalade and drink dandelion tea. I want a silk dressing gown in dark red. I want to roast marshmallows on Omicron Twelve."
He lowered his eyes, then looked back at her. "I want to understand love. Really understand what it means to love a woman. You, Sarah. I want to learn... with you."
Thanks to all who've R&R'd so far, with special thanks to Kittenmommy for recommending the song lyrics used for this section!
"Me and Sarah Jane/ We had it coming/ All the pain/Walking down the streets and finding nothing is the same/Me and Sarah Jane/In silence, walk along the shore/Tears of joy, and mocking laughter/ Words lost in the wind/The tide was rising but there we stayed/We had no fear of dying, we weren't afraid."
"Me and Sarah Jane," by Genesis, from the "Abacab" album, copyright by Genesis, lyric used w/o permission.
Sarah was dreaming.
She was at a fancy dress party. Except it wasn't much of a party, because she was the only one there. The ballroom was lit by large white candles and shadows swept along the walls and ornate stained glass windows. She glanced at her reflection in a mirror. She was dressed in a pale blue satin gown, her hair swept up. She looked all right: in fact, she looked beautiful. It surprised her: she usually didn't think of herself that way. But here she was, looking smashing, all alone. Story of my life, I suppose, she thought.
Her back was to a set of ornately carved wooden doors, but she heard them open and whirled in surprise and fear.
The Doctor stood framed in the doorway. He wore a long dark blue velvet coat with tails, a crisp white shirt, a burgundy satin vest, and black gloves. A black top hat concealed much of his hair. He carried a black walking stick. He smiled and walked towards her. As he did, the doors swung shut, and she heard faint strains of music that gradually began to get louder. When he was only about two feet away from her he suddenly used the stick to push his top hat off his head, and sent both items flying across the room. The music was in full swing now, a waltz she didn't recognize. He reached out and took her hand, pulling her against him. She gasped as he fitted her body to his.
He danced superbly; sweeping her along the floor with such ease and grace she hardly felt her body move. Her hands had crept up to his neck of their own accord, resting on his shoulders. All the time they danced he smiled at her, but didn't say a word. Neither did she: there was nothing she felt she should say.
On and on they danced. She felt breathless and giddy. It was a moment for them and them alone, nothing to separate them, just him and her together...
The doors burst open.
They were everywhere. They swarmed into the room. Daleks and Cybermen and Kralls and the cultists of Mandragora and Sutek and the Wyrm and Morbius. They surged forward and seized the Doctor, pulling him from her arms. She gasped in horror, trying to pull him back.
"NO! No, you can't take him from me!" She cried.
She pulled with all her might, but they dragged him away, lifting him and carrying him up high while she ran after them, kicked and punching and screaming all the while. "You can't take him! Stop! Give him back!"
Insanely, she realized the music was still going. She looked in despair at the Doctor's face. He smiled at her with a sad, resigned smile, as if to say: 'well, what can I do?'
"No," she whispered. "Don't."
They sailed out the doors, leaving her alone.
"DON'T!" She shrieked, pounding on the doors with both fists. She slid down to the floor, sobbing helplessly as though she was dying. "Doctor..."
She flung her head back and screamed as loud as she could, a scream filled with rage and pain. "DOCTOR!"
She bolted awake with a strangled cry. She was on the bed. How did she get on the bed?
Her body was covered with a light sheen of sweat. She gasped for breath, clutching her hands to her chest. From behind her she felt cool hands encircle her waist. She jumped with a sharp cry. "No!"
"Sarah! Stop."
It was the Doctor. She sighed, relaxing. He drew her back until she rested against his bare chest, then wrapped his arms around her. She felt her heart thudding against him, going even faster than both of his in the aftermath of her nightmare. His breath stirred her hair as she twisted slightly so she could rest her head on his shoulder and press her face into his neck.
"Nightmare?" He asked.
She nodded.
"It's been awhile since that's happened," he said thoughtfully.
"Not long enough," she replied.
"Want to talk about it?"
She shook her head.
He sighed, repositioning her in his lap. "And you say I'm stubborn," he laughed.
"You are," she retorted.
"Takes one to know one, missy."
She managed a chuckle, reveling in the feel of her body pressed to his. After a few minutes she felt calm. She made to move, but the Doctor only tightened his hold. "It's all right," he murmured. She sank back, trembling as she felt his hands stroking her hair.
"Why, Sarah?" He asked softly.
"Why what?"
"Why did you come back, knowing I'd told you to stay away from me." There was no anger in his voice, only curiosity.
"I don't always do what I'm told," she answered saucily, and was rewarded by a laugh. "Seriously, though. I came back because... well, like I said. You need me here."
"Can you say that, knowing that I might hurt you?" He turned her around so that she was facing him and stared into her eyes.
"I want to help you," she whispered.
"You can't."
"Rubbish!"
"What can you do? What can you do that I won't do, or haven't already done?"
"You can talk to me."
"What if that isn't enough? What if my talking turns to shouting?"
"I don't care."
"And what if-"
"What if, what if! What if the dish runs away with the spoon? Stop worrying about the "what if's" and focus on the right now!"
She glared at him, causing him to chuckle. "I didn't know you could be so feisty."
"Well it's time you learned."
"I just don't want to hurt you."
"I know what you don't want. How about thinking positive?"
"What do you mean?"
"Instead of telling me what you don't want, why don't you tell me what you do want?"
"What I want?"
"Yes. You said something earlier about having dreams and desires. What are they?"
"I want..." His face grew pensive.
"Yes?" She asked. He hesitated, and she ran her hands through his hair, massaging his temples and scalp. He let out a tiny moan. "Tell me," she said quietly.
He spoke in a hushed, hesitant voice. "I want to run barefoot on the beach at Velhon Five. I want to work a crossword with a pen. The New York Times Sunday version, preferably. I want to see the solar energy waves pass through the sky of Epsilon. I want to have lunch with Da Vinci and Newton and Copernicus and Robert Frost. I want to learn to play the kazoo."
He reached up and took her hands in his, gazing deep into her eyes. "I want to taste marmalade and drink dandelion tea. I want a silk dressing gown in dark red. I want to roast marshmallows on Omicron Twelve."
He lowered his eyes, then looked back at her. "I want to understand love. Really understand what it means to love a woman. You, Sarah. I want to learn... with you."