By the time Harry and Christine got back to the table with all the food, Sarah Jane Smith was almost convinced that her weary condition would soon fade away, with a good meal and close companions being enough to make her feel better. And so for a while she relaxed, focusing only on devouring as much of her food as possible.
Harry laughed as she did so. "Slow down, Sarah," he warned her cheerfully. "If you keep eating that fast, you'll possibly get indigestion."
"Do you think I care right now, Harry?" Sarah said just before she put another handful of fries into her mouth.
"Well, suit yourself, but don't go around complaining about the worse stomach ache you've ever had once you're done," Harry said. "I've had enough of this with Christine already."
"Hey, doc! That's only happened two times," Christine complained.
"That may be so, but it's what happens when you refuse to listen to me," Harry said.
Sarah chuckled, but still made sure to eat more slowly than before after that precaution.
"See? I knew you'd eventually listen," Harry said with a smile.
"I may do so now, but don't expect me to be following all your orders from now on," Sarah said.
"I never asked you to, just when it comes to matters concerning your health, which is part of my job," Harry insisted.
"Just as it's my job to ask all the questions, isn't it?" Sarah demanded.
"Now that's a good journalist," Harry said laughing.
Christine chuckled as she heard this exchanged. "Has anyone ever told you two how funny you sound when talking to each other?" she asked.
"I believe the Doctor told us so a number of times, right Harry?" Sarah asked.
"So many times that I lost count, Sarah," Harry answered.
"Yeah. I can totally see how even the Doctor noticed that," Christine said, then grabbed two of Sarah Jane's French fries.
"Hey! Hasn't Harry taught you anything about not stealing other people's food?" Sarah Jane protested even as she tried to hide a smile.
"It's not stealing if it comes from someone you're sure would let you take something, isn't that right, Doc?" Christine said.
"Now I never recall teaching you that, Christine. It must have been something your mother told you, considering how often she takes everything from my spare snacks to old tools without considering asking me first," Harry said.
"And did you ever need any of that?" Christine asked.
"No, but…"
"But then what's the point of complaining, Doc? My mom wanted them, and you usually never notice when something that isn't important to you goes missing until I tell you about it, so at least you weren't left with those messes you hate so much."
"She has a point, Harry. Never overlook the words of a clever girl, even if she's just eight," Sarah Jane said.
"Especially if she's eight," Christine said, and the three of them laughed.
Once they'd all finished eating, Harry turned to Sarah Jane again and said, "Hard to believe that just a while ago, you looked as if you were going to collapse from exhaustion."
"And the feeling hasn't completely passed, Harry," Sarah Jane admitted with a whisper. "Every few seconds, I feel as if this weight in my body keeps pulling me down, and I start hearing other people's voices again."
"Oh, no," Harry said. "Would you like me to take you back to wherever it is you're staying right now? If you want, Christine and me could stay with you to make sure you're okay. I have little work to do these days besides teaching and looking after Christine, so I have all the time in the world."
Sarah Jane smiled upon hearing him saying "all the time in the world". "It really does feel that way sometimes, doesn't it? I'm often convinced that I can put off all my responsibilities for weeks and come back to it with little consequences. But then I have to remind myself that I'm not in the TARDIS anymore and still have a report due tomorrow, so I have no excuse for putting things off."
"I understand what you mean, Sarah, but I actually do have a lot of time in my hands thanks to what I now do. Most of my work consists of writing reports on how Christine's powers are going and how she's adjusting to everything because of them, and then going over to the University of Florida to speak with one of the head researchers in the medical or psychology departments about the information I gathered, for which I get paid a large sum of cash. Seeing different patients every day is just part of the past for me now," Harry clarified.
"That's good to know, Harry. I think I even read that book you wrote on ESP research as well, even though I had no idea it was you that wrote until Brigadier Lethbridge Stewart of all people told me about it a year ago. I was quite surprised about it, to tell the truth," Sarah Jane said.
"And why is that? Do you see me as just as foolish as the Doctor did?" Harry asked.
"No, it's just I didn't think you were capable of writing something so formal and academic, at least not from any of the normal conversations we'd have together," Sarah Jane responded.
"You can say that again," Christine said.
"But didn't you write something as well? An old friend of yours once told me that you'd written some science fiction novels under a pseudonym about five years ago," Harry asked.
"Oh, yes. They were called At the Speed of Stars and The Unknown Species, if I remember correctly. However, there are days in which I have no memory of writing those books, and it's only when my friends Tom and Violet remind me that I once asked them nonstop questions about all the Ray Bradbury books we'd read together back in university that I can recall writing them at all. In fact, it's usually when I believe we've traveled in 1975 that I remember those books," Sarah Jane said.
"That's certainly strange," Harry said. "Do you have any idea what may have caused us to have such distorted memories?"
"Rose told me that one of the Doctor's adventures involved a search for a key of time, and that because he and his assistant came across a creature called the Black Guardian, it resulted in a distortion of several timelines, something which the Doctor became aware of after he met a companion who fell under the influence of the Black Guardian in 1983, in a reality where the Brigadier was working as a school teacher and had retired in 1976 instead of 1981, as happened in our timeline," Sarah Jane explained.
"I see. Christine, did you learn about any of this when the Doctor got stuck in your mind?" Harry asked.
"Nope. And for the record, I don't get anything you guys are talking about right now. Isn't there only one way in which all events of time have occurred?" Christine responded.
"I think it will take up to a hundred lessons for you to understand, Chris. I barely get it myself," Harry told her.
Suddenly, Sarah Jane felt her heart starting to race, and the voices in her head began again:
Eight dollars, nine dollars, ten dollars. Yes, that should be enough to…
How long will it take these little rascals to finish up all that food? Fitness freaks keep giving me all this crap about athletes not needing to eat fast food, and sometimes I wonder if…
This is the last time I'm waiting here all morning for that idiot to show up. If he tries to pull this off one more time, then I will dump him in front of…
"Sarah, what's going? Are you feeling sick again?" Harry asked, placing a hand around her a shoulder.
"Are you okay, Sarah Jane?" Christine asked, sounding just as worried as Harry.
"I feel…" Sarah Jane began, but before she could continue, her vision started getting increasingly cloudy, and she heard a horrible buzzing coming from her ears. And after a while, she found herself incapable of seeing or hearing anything except a dim voice calling out her name desperately.
Then, she felt the sensation of falling from her seat, followed by…
…
When Sarah Jane gained consciousness again, she was no longer in the McDonald's in Florida, but in the large, luxuriously styled bedroom of Jackie and Rose Tyler's at the Northern Horizons Hotel. She could once again see Jackie Tyler sitting and typing away, but she could now feel something going on inside of her as she did so, to the point where all she was aware of for the remaining of her vision was of what Jackie was doing.
Jackie had a deep longing to drink. For over twenty- four hours, she had a strong craving for a stimulant of some sort to keep her strong urges at bay, and she could think of nothing she wanted more than a strong glass of wine or a can of beer, as had once been her method of drowning out all her pain.
But given the fact that she was trying to abstain from alcohol, the closest she could get to a stimulant was writing. It didn't matter if she wrote a whole paragraph of a young woman hitchhiking across Europe or just the same sentence about good work a hundred times, putting her thoughts into words was the only way she could free herself from this prison she was keeping herself trapped in.
However, she soon found herself getting tired just putting down words on a keyboard. She needed to look more through the outside world if she wanted to make improvement. Talking to another human being about your problems was always the best medicine, and given how Rose seemed increasingly confused about what was bothering her so much, she figured there must be someone in the hotel who'd understand her feelings. At the moment, it didn't matter to her if she just had a brief word with Elaine and Sandy, as shallow as those two girls were, or if she let Alison delve into the haunting history of Northern Horizons once again. Just hearing the words of one other person capable of something besides begging her to stop would be enough for her.
And so, she walked out of the bedroom as quietly as possible, so as not to awaken Rose, who was now sound asleep. Looking around, it suddenly hit her that it was past ten and most of the hotel workers had gone home for the night. As a result, she found herself heading towards the ballroom, the place where Rose had her latest psychic episode and where she'd nearly gone mad. But instead of this giving her fear, it provoked a sense of calmness in Jackie. What would it take for her to let go of her stress and fear like that once again? Would she ever be capable of just yelling and going after those who gave her nothing but hell at any other point in her life? If it had worked at making Truman a better man, then who knew who else she could force to change with that feisty temper of hers?
And to her surprise, she soon discovered that the place wasn't anywhere near as deserted as the last time she set foot in it. Instead, the moment she set foot in there, she heard the lively rhythm of a jazz number she remembered her great aunt once playing on repeat. She was also greeted by a woman in a dark green dress with short hair, who said, "Oh, my, are we getting an awful lot of guests to our party! Welcome in, miss, but would you mind explaining the clothes you're in? We've had other women coming in here dressed very similarly as you, but they can never offer a clear explanation."
Jackie looked around. All the women in sight were wearing party dresses, most of them in that vintage style she usually saw in history books describing the lives of women in the earlier part of the century. And of course, Jackie, in her oversized t-shirt and dark trousers, was the odd one out in such a formal occasion.
"Hello there, and sorry about my state of dress. I was just…taking part in an athletic event and didn't have time to change," Jackie responded. And if they considered how quickly she'd been typing that scene where the woman kept running from some mysterious figure, she supposed that could be considered some form of exercise if you extended the word's definition.
"So you're just another flapper," the woman said with a chuckle. "Probably out skiing based on the weather we're having. Well, a couple of the girls here take pride in their tennis abilities, although athletics was never something I was good at. I still shudder when remember our supposed "swimming" lessons back in my school days, where they'd make us hang through ropes or bars while in a swimmer's pose, although they would never let us near an actual body of water. Oh, the horrors!"
A flapper? Swimming lessons through ropes and bars? Is this woman bonkers? She talks as if she's from the twenties! Jackie thought. Or perhaps that was the point of this party: a 1920s theme. Yes, she certainly liked that, and was impressed to see that they were also using twenties slang and references to the turn of the century.
"Thank you for understanding," she told the woman. "Now, may I sit anywhere I please, or are certain seats on reserve?"
"Why, there's no reserved seating at this party! It's New Year's Eve after all, so you never know how much people will show up," the woman responded, escorting Jackie through the room.
"New Year's Eve? But that's supposed to be…" Jackie started saying.
"Oh, Peggy, this must be the best New Year's Eve party I've ever been to!" a woman close to them interrupted.
"The party's sure swell, Caroline, but it's not the party I love so much as being able to have a good glass of liquor for once," another woman answered in a drunken American accent.
It took all the strength within Jackie not to walk up to their table and take the first glass of wine she could reach. In fact, if this woman hadn't been gripping her hand so tightly, she would have probably run over and snatched the wine from the drunk woman.
But the biggest surprise of all was when she heard a familiar voice calling out, "Jackie, you're here! One month apart from you has had me feeling quite lonely, despite how friendly everyone here is."
It was Hannah Lewis, sitting in a bar stall and looking as happy as she'd been back in September, in addition to being one of the only people in sight wearing modern clothing.
Jackie felt her face going pale. "Hannah, I…I don't understand. I thought… We all thought…"
Hannah laughed. "That I was dead? Well, let me tell you that you weren't deluding yourself then and you're certainly not doing so right now."
"But you were murdered, Hannah!" Jackie yelled, not caring if others could hear her. "You're acting as if you just went on vacation this whole time, but this was bloody serious for me and Rose! Now if you don't mind explaining to me what's going on, then I'd really appreciate it."
"Hey, what's going on here, ladies?" a man in a pink suit straight out of The Great Gatsby asked them.
"Oh, just ignore her, William. She's a little disoriented because of how freezing it is outside. In fact, it looks like she could use a drink," Hannah responded.
"Why would you offer me a drink so easily? This isn't like you at all!" Jackie protested, but with the increasing dryness she was feeling on her lips, she couldn't deny the desire that had been absorbing her any longer, and found herself seated beside Hannah, who was sipping on a tequila as if she'd never had any objections to drinking in her life. "Purdue, give me another shot of tequila, and make it quick! My friend Jackie here is very thirsty," she called out to the bartender.
The bartender immediately walked over and gave Jackie a quick scan, then smiled darkly at her. "Why, it's a pleasure to be meeting you at last, Mrs. Tyler. Hannah and the girls talk about you all the time," he said in what Jackie recognized as a French- Canadian accent.
"The girls? Do you mean your daughters?" Jackie asked.
"Of course. Their names are Therese and Louise, and they're some of the sweetest girls you'll ever meet. Incredibly patient too, which is a good virtue to have a place like this."
"A place like what?" Jackie demanded.
"What? Don't me you haven't already noticed, Jackie! You always struck as a clever woman, after all," Hannah said.
"But I'm not a genius either, Hannah! Now please start explaining!" Jackie yelled.
"For starters, do you see how not only am I dead, but almost everyone except for us is wearing clothing from the 1920s?" Hannah asked.
"So, am I in a very strange version of limbo or purgatory?" Jackie asked, not liking where this was going.
"You're somewhat correct, Mrs. Tyler. In this ballroom, it's been New Year's Eve of 1924 for the past sixty-eight years. Every single person you're seeing here died at different points in time, but they were all either at the party which occurred on that day or died in an incident relating to the spirit that's haunting this hotel one way or another," Purdue explained.
Jackie felt her heartrate accelerating and her body starting to fill with sweat. "But then what's happened to me? Am I dead as well, or am I just trapped here for the moment?"
"Purdue, give her the tequila now," Hannah demanded with a scowl.
The next thing she knew, a cup was pushed over in her direction. Letting out a heavy sigh, she picked up the glass, shut her eyes, and placed the glass through her lips. Then, for the first time in months, she found herself heavily gulping through the sweet alcohol, drinking as if her life depended on it.
And all around her, everyone was smiling.
