Sarah Jane pulled away from the Doctor and stared apprehensively at the door. It was so ridiculous she could almost have laughed, were it not for the all-too-real creak of unoiled hinges and the light tap-tap of the swaying dragon's head knocker.

"Doctor...shouldn't we get back in the TARDIS?"

"Nonsense." He was still, for once, simply watching and immersing himself in the event, his keen and intelligent eyes seeing everything. "It's perfectly safe, Sarah Jane."

She'd have believed her first Doctor when he said that - maybe - but she'd been dragged in to too many dangerous situations with exactly those words that she just rolled her eyes and moved to stand beside him. Surely there was something terrible on the other side of that door...something just waiting to capture and devour them...something that belonged in nightmares, somehow escaped in to her world of day. Maybe this time it would be too strong for the Doctor. After all, everything dies, eventually: why should a Timelord be any different?

And then she looked up.

The door was open, and through it she could see the vague outlines of buildings in darkness, topped by a sky in which the stars seemed cold and dim. It seemed suddenly colder, as if the night breeze was blowing out of the door and on to the sun-drenched clifftop, leeching away the warmth.

She turned to the Doctor, and to her own surprise found herself smiling. "Shall we then?"

"Great minds think alike," came his delighted reply. "Although I think we'll have to jump..."

Dammit, she hated heights. To be fair, being dangled from the top of a rocket on Skaro hadn't really given her the best experience to look back on; neither had the journey to Rassilon's tower on a zip-wire. But the Doctor was already over, his long legs making it easy, and reaching out a hand to help her across. With a deep breath, she walked to the edge of the cliff. Don't look down, she told herself. If you don't look down it's not there.

And then she jumped.

Now, this is more like the Sarah Jane he remembers. He's seen that brave, determined look on her face so many times before as she followed him in to the unknown that it seems almost normal. As she jumps across the gap separating cliff and door, he finds himself smiling. "Well done, Sarah."

She smiles back, and he sees then, in that smile, that she hasn't really changed at all. Which is strange, because most humans he has travelled with have gotten old, let age sap their strength and vitality. But Sarah...somehow, inside, she has remained the bright, inquisitive journalist she always was, and although he has been trying to return to her what must be twenty years in her past, he is strangely happy to have found her now.

They step together away from the door and in to the darkness.

The darkness wasn't a problem. It was more grey than black, thick shadows obscuring the ends of roads and tops of houses.

"Do you recognise it?" Sarah whispered, clutching the Doctor's arm to avoid tripping over the cobbles underfoot.

"Recognise it? I can hardly see it!"

"It's just..." She paused as they passed a signpost, peered at it in the gloom. "It looks awfully like Earth."

"You humans think everything looks like Earth. Now come on!" He was about to dart off down an alleyway, but she tugged at his arm.

"No, Doctor, I think this is Earth. London. I just saw a signpost that said Piccadilly."

He looked quizzically down at her and then at the sign, rusty with mist and rain and nailed roughly to the brick wall. "You know, you may be right." And then he was off again, marching purposefully down the alleyway and in to the darkness. Sarah had to run to catch up.

"You know," she began, "the world was awfully...dark...for a while. I thought you were dead."

"Oh, you know me. Indestructible."

"No, really. I thought...there must be a reason you didn't come back for me. Something I'd done; something gone wrong; maybe you just didn't care."

This time he stopped. "Oh, Sarah, I care." He said it so gently that tears welled up in her eyes;

she brushed them away with a touch of annoyance. She'd cried enough.

"It's just...I met you. I mean, not you, a future you, so I can't really tell you anything - but you were so distant, so different, I thought maybe I'd just been...another one in a long line...not worth coming back for." She wouldn't cry. She hadn't cried when he'd left her, or when she'd been hypnotised, or possessed, or experimented on, and she'd be damned if she was going to cry over old history. Especially not in a dark alleyway.

It's dark, and the damp walls either side of them seem oppressive in the gloom. Or maybe that's just his sense of melodrama playing up again.

So this is what has been troubling her - some of it, anyway. She feels abandoned, worthless and forgotten and he - or rather, his future self - hasn't been able to completely reassure her of the truth. This is what hides behind her smile, lurks in her eyes. This is what he's done, with his clumsy piloting of the TARDIS. If only he'd landed in the right time.

All this goes through his mind on the second before he speaks, and as usual the words tumble out before he can arrange them to his satisfaction. It's so much easier in his head.

"I care about everyone I travel with, Sarah. Some more than others, admittedly, but then some of them don't really like me all that much either, but I wouldn't abandon even them." He pauses for breath. "I'm not saying this very well, Sarah. What I mean is I never meant to leave you for so long, it's just that infernal machine still can't quite manage precision landings and...oh, I'm sorry, Sarah."

He stops, aware of his verbal shortcomings when it comes to reassuring and comforting people, and looks at her. He speaks slowly, deliberately, determined to say the right thing this time. "I care about you, Sarah, never doubt that. And whatever face I wear I will always care about you. You were brilliant."

And in the mist and the darkness, in some unknown time, he watches the doubt lift from her face, leaving a smile so brilliant that he is surprised when the fog doesn't evaporate in its presence. He takes her hand. "So come on, let's find out where and when we are."

They're just coming out of the other end of the alley when a stern voice echoes from the darkness. A stern voice with a distinctly cockney accent. "Sir, may I ask exactly what that young lady and yourself were doing down that there alley? It's past time decent folks were home - and excuse me ma'am, but your manner of dress is most inappropriate."

They both stand there in stunned silence.

"I don't mean to be rude, sir." The voice coalesces in to the distinctive form of a policeman. "It's just women are going missing. There's talk of the Ripper back at work - I'd take your missus home at once if I was you."

"She's not-" the Doctor begins, but thinks the better of it. "Thank you, sir. We'll be heading home now."

And then a whistle blows, and the policeman starts running towards the sound.

"Come on, Doctor." Sarah is still clutching his hand. "Aren't you curious?"

And off they run.