Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.
Mickey Smith drummed his fingers impatiently on the wheel of his Mini Cooper (a gift from Pete, after Jackie told him about the heroic green Mini left to rust on the street outside Mickey's old flat), waiting for the traffic light in front to turn green. The minute it did he was away, hastily glancing at his watch. He had told Rose he would pick her up from outside the chippy at 4.15, and he was almost twenty minutes late. Well, it wasn't his fault the bus had been late, and then he'd had to walk to the house from the bus stop. He found his Mini among the other dozen cars Pete had refused to sell, after trying to decipher the directions from the torrent of gibberish Rose had squealed at him over the phone.
At least it had got her talking, he thought with forced optimism as he changed gear to turn a sharp corner. She had been so silent and withdrawn lately, and fear and worry had knotted into a permanent lump in his stomach, weighing him down more every day. Along with anger – anger at the Doctor, for seducing her with wild stories of travel through time and space. For making her realise she deserved more than 21st century Earth, a mum who never shut up, a loser for a boyfriend. Mickey himself had had a taste of that life, a life of danger and aliens - it was terrifying, exhilarating, life-affirming stuff, but it wasn't his style. But Rose…she was born for it; lived for it. And so he was angry with the Doctor for leaving her, sometimes so angry it was like a hot piece of lead lodged in his brain, and he could barely think for it being there. But he was also insanely, selfishly glad, and he found he hated himself for that almost as much as he hated the Doctor.
He saw her, leaning against the wall by the café, before she recognised the car. It was pretty hard to miss – a bright, electric blue Mini – but she was clearly thinking about something else, and it didn't take a genius to guess what. She waved as he pulled up beside her, though, the first real smile he'd seen in months beginning to spread over her face. Mickey guessed it was only the fear of disappointment that kept it at bay, and he was right.
"Is it true?" Rose asked again as she fastened her seatbelt, fortunately too preoccupied to chastise Mickey for forgetting his own. He hastily fumbled for it as she fixed him with a stare. "You're late, by the way."
He grinned as he rolled out of the parking space, forgetting to check the road in his haste and nearly running into the path of another car. The driver honked his horn, yelled something obscene out of the window as he passed. Mickey grimaced, but nothing could dampen his excitement. "Yes, it's true."
"Sarah Jane, Mickey! Sarah Jane!"
Mickey answered her grin with one of his own, secretly slightly irritated that it had taken someone connected to the Doctor, someone they had only met once, to break her silence. Now she was babbling fast enough to challenge her mum.
"…She used to work for Torchwood! I never even thought she'd exist over here, and now I find out she worked for my dad! Oh, I hope she can work out this transmission thing and work with us again."
"There's no saying she'll be able to, you know," Mickey reminded her. He had nothing against Sarah Jane, he just didn't want Rose to get her hopes up, only to be let down again. "I mean, you should have been able to understand it. Maybe even me. I thought the TARDIS did that hocus-pocus that made you understand alien speech?"
The first flicker of worry flashed across her face, so fast Mickey almost thought he'd imagined it. "I dunno," she said at last, as the car took a sharp corner. Mickey's eyes flicked to the map on his knees, to her face, back to the road. "Maybe it wears off after a bit, like if you stay away from the TARDIS for a long time. Or maybe it can't reach me from here for it to work." That small crease of worry was back as she frowned, chewing her lip. Mickey had an uncontrollable urge to bring the smile back.
"Nah, it can't be that," he promised, "It must just be a really new language…so new even the TARDIS hasn't discovered it yet. If they have it over there." She didn't reply, or ask him to elaborate; they both knew where "over there" was. Rose nodded, but the ghost of a frown still lingered as the Mini left the outskirts of London and emerged on a country lane.
"Where exactly does she live, then?" The girl asked after a while to change the subject, neither of them wanting to contemplate how to handle a previously unknown alien race. Mickey, who was once more studying the map to manoeuvre through a crossroads, took the left-hand fork before answering.
"Not far now, 'bout another half an hour."
And then, because it had been worrying him for a while now, and because he didn't want Rose to be disappointed, and he couldn't think of anything else to build up to it, Mickey said abruptly: "It won't be Sarah Jane, you know. Not our Sarah Jane. She might not even have met him."
"I know," said Rose after a moments thought, "She won't have met my Doctor, but…" She shook her head, unable to find the words.
"I know," Mickey told her. All she had left was hope, and he didn't want to take it from her. She was clinging to the cliff face of despair, and he didn't want to admit it, but one of her last chances of climbing to safety was Sarah Jane.
They drove in silence until they found a small town, a typical country village with stone houses, a couple of pubs, convenience store and church. "This is it." Rose said as Mickey opened his mouth. It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway. Rose could almost feel how close they were getting, she was leaning forward in her seat as if she could sense which way to go. And the expression on her face made Mickey a bit nervous. It was a look of desperate, yearning hope.
Neither of them spoke as the car came to a stop outside an ordinary looking, 2-storey house made of grey brick, with vines creeping up the wall, a small but tidy lawn and a driveway leading up to the front door. Rose unclipped her seatbelt, and Mickey started to do the same, but she grabbed his arm.
"I…" she began as the question formed on his lips, but found she didn't know what she had been about to say. She felt something like kinship with Sarah Jane, and knew that having Mickey there would make talking about the Doctor uncomfortable. "You should stay here," she managed at last, "It might creep her out if more than one of us goes."
She was lying, and could tell he knew it, but he thought he hid his disappointment pretty well. "Right. I'll be ready waiting for the quick getaway." He tried a grin, but she had already turned away and got out, missing how strained the smile looked. Mickey leaned back in his seat and watched his friend as she went up to the door, and raised a fist to knock.