The low thrumming sound of the TARDIS in the time vortex was usually what lulled Sarah Jane Smith to sleep in these long, seemingly endless holidays she was spending with the Doctor. She liked to refer to them as “working holidays”, since she’d go and collect information for a story and then they’d be off, bopping around a couple planets while she composed her article. The usual places she shopped her work around at had noticed an increase in how polished her work had become recently. It wasn’t better quality—that had always been rather high, hence her oft-acknowledged talent amongst her peers—but it certainly was crisper, cleaner, devoid of nearly all typographical errors and funny-sounding wording, and it was making her work more sought-after.
Of course she couldn’t say that she did her proofreading between an excursion to Florana and accidentally popping in on a Dalek hive (oh what a story that would have been!), so she simply would smile, accept the praise, and ruthlessly haggle her prices.
Except now, the only thing Sarah Jane was ready to haggle was the noise levels in the TARDIS. She nearly rolled out of bed, clutching the blanket close around her, and shuffled towards the door. It opened cordially and allowed her access to the corridor, which she wandered around until she finally came upon the Doctor’s workshop. An odd sort of place, it was where the Time Lord spent the hours he didn’t use for sleeping, which seemed to be many of them, and contained all the experiments and trinkets he endlessly worked on. She made her way over to the oversized armchair specifically placed for her use and flopped onto it.
“Doctor, can you do something about the noise in here?” she whined.
“The TARDIS is functioning at normal capacity,” he explained as he carefully measured out chemicals. “She is not any louder than on any other day. Is something troubling you?”
“I can’t sleep,” she said. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her legs in the blanket, all but her head covered in the quilted paisley fabric. “Normally I sleep just fine, but now…” A large yawn cut her off and she pouted incoherently.
“My dear Sarah, what are we going to do with you?” the Doctor chuckled. He put down the device he was dissecting and made his way from the workbench to his friend’s side, hands in his pockets. “If you don’t get a good night’s sleep, then you won’t be in top form for when we do those interviews regarding the Brigadier’s latest ‘training exercises’ when we land.”
“I feel foolish,” Sarah Jane admitted grumpily. “Never should have gone off and left that man alone.”
“Ah, I see,” he observed. It didn’t take any psychic probing to know she was feeling guilt over the death of a local from Blashillia—they were supposed to stick together while looking for the creatures that were ravaging the settlement, yet she had gotten lost on accident and discovered the hideout of the one who had been controlling the creatures the whole time. Yes, a man was now dead and people were in mourning, but his death facilitated a great discovery. They would likely still be in Blashillia had it not been for the tragic slip-up, and he wasn’t about to let the visit haunt her. “Come on now, stand up.”
“What…?” she wondered groggily.
“Stand Sarah; I think I know what it is you need.” He watched as she stood, confused beyond belief, and immediately sat down in the chair, pulling her down into his lap. “There… now that’s better.”
“What… Doctor?!” she gasped. “What’s all this about?!”
“Sometimes all a person needs to feel comfortable is close proximity to another. You had a very trying couple of days and it shouldn’t be a surprise that you’re having trouble getting rest. Most people would, no matter how strong they are.” He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Is that about it?”
Sarah Jane mused on that before nodding. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said. “Are you sure you can take the time from your work?”
“For you, Sarah? Yes, of course.”
Grinning broadly, Sarah Jane stood up and adjusted her blanket before curling back up in the Doctor’s lap. With the fabric covering them both, she leaned her head up against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Doctor?” she snickered.
“What is it?”
“Your hearts sound awfully funny.”
“Well, that’s because you’re used to a single-heart pulmonary system,” he shrugged. “It’s not surprising; I’m sure there’s plenty of things that differ between us that would make you chuckle.”
“…like two hearts?”
“That’s only the start. Did you know I’m also psychic?”
“No…” she giggled. “Really?”
“It’s true,” he assured. “It’s mostly touch-based, but there are times when I can make a strong enough link to hold it completely on mental power.”
“Bollocks; if you’re psychic, then why haven’t you made any use of it?”
“…because there are times when it’s better to turn things like that off. It’s very intrusive, Sarah. The mind is a very private place and to breech that barrier either requires consent or an imminent life-or-death situation. I’d rather find a way around it.”
“Oh…” she said quietly. She pondered momentarily before pressing further into the Doctor in an attempt to get comfortable. “Good to know.”
“Try to sleep now, Sarah Jane. Everything will be alright.” He placed his hand on her head and gingerly stroked her hair, humming a soft tune he heard once on Gallifrey. She was broadcasting her emotions loud and clear as she slipped into sleep, snuggling in as he gently cradled her.
Warm. Happy. Safe. Thank you.
(Found AO3)
