THE LONG WAY HOME, PART ONE

Sarah Jackson quietly sat in bed and waited for him to arrive. The afternoon had passed into evening of the first conscious day of her life as something beyond merely a human being, and she was confused and angry and frightened. The cause of her angst was Paul Marriner, and she wondered if he would choose to come and face her again, or whether he would be just another cute guy who broke her heart and walked away. This time was different, and this cute guy was a lot more complicated and had left her in a serious mess she doubted very much if she could handle alone. Gary Morris had stolen her innocence, and Paul Marriner robbed her of her humanity.

No, that much wasn’t exactly true. He had known the risks, and had given her the choice not to get involved. She turned his chivalry down, and now she had to deal with the consequences. This wasn’t a very soothing concept to heal herself with. Righteous indignation felt a hell of a lot more satisfying, but missed the point. She chose to be in on the secret, and now she was royally screwed because of it. My fault, not his. She was so deeply in thought, she never heard him walk into the room.

"How are you, Sarah?" he asked. She looked at him, and noticed he was still in uniform, though he had shed his simple private’s disguise for one reflecting his rank as a Lieutenant Colonel. He removed his hat, and pulled a chair over beside the bed and sat down.

"I don’t know," she said. For several minutes, neither of them spoke and the room grew silent, except for the noise from outside in the corridors of the hospital, where life went on as it always did.

"One of us has to say something sometime," Paul finally said.

"What’s happening to me?" she said nervously. "I’m scared, Paul."

"I know," he said. "Do you want the long explanation, or will a short one do?"

"I know the short one," she said curtly. "I’m turning into a mutant."

"This isn’t Alien, Sarah," Paul said without speaking. "You’re going to be the same person you were before--more or less."

"How much more? I can already hear you in my head. How do I keep anything to myself if you can pop in any time you feel like it?" She thought this and frowned, waiting for him to explode. He didn’t.

"Learning how to shield your thoughts takes time and practice. Until you learn how, you and I are just going to have to deal with things as best we can."

"We? You’re going back to America--"

"For a funeral, Sarah."

"America is your home. Why should you come back here? You could be just like every other guy that I’ve ever wanted to be with. Nobody would care if you left. They’d probably all be glad you left." She dared not open her eyes to look at him. The room grew deathly quiet.

"Listen to me, Sarah. You and I didn’t almost die together for us to come out of it hating each other. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but we’re in this together now and we’ll see this through. Together, Sarah."

"If I told you I was falling in love with you, Paul, what would you say?" she thought.

Paul got up from his chair and sat down on the bed beside her. "What were you thinking of for the future, Sarah? You don’t want to rush into ‘Til death do us part’ if we’re going to be arguing over whose turn it is to wash dishes for the next millennium or two. Take some time and think it over."

"Time?"

"Open your eyes, Sarah." She did, and she noted he had picked out her pocket mirror from her purse. "Look at yourself. Do you realize that this face isn’t going to change too much for the next fifty years or so?"

She looked puzzled. "No wrinkles," he continued. "When Spike and Lynda are old folks arguing at each other with ear trumpets in hand and resting in wheelchairs, you might look 35 if you don’t keep yourself up. Tell me where I’m going to find an octogenarian this beautiful."

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. "Gary Morris only gave this a 4."

"Best damn four I ever saw," Paul said, and kissed her. "You have all the time in the world to decide your future, so relax."

"Damn," Sarah muttered. "All my life I’ve wanted to be in bed with a guy like you, and when it finally happens, I have a bullet wound and can’t enjoy myself."

Paul gave an exaggerated sigh. "Time Lords are martyrs to their responsibilities," he chuckled. "Now get some sleep, Sarah. I’ll stop by in the morning before I leave."

"You aren’t staying?" she thought, and then kicked herself for thinking it.

The two of them looked at each other for a time, and then Paul walked to the door and opened it. Sophie and Laura happened to be standing outside, keeping guard.

"Eavesdropping going well?" he asked them.

"We could do better if you’d talk more and think less," Laura grumbled, but with a smile.

"Sarah needs some company, so I think I’ll get some sleeping bags from the TARDIS and we’ll all stay here tonight. Unless you two had plans?"

"We were thinking of nicking the crown jewels before we left, but I guess we can let that slide for another night," Sophie said.

"I’m going to need to get the TARDIS here, so have Crichton lay on a transport plane for us tomorrow."

"We’re not taking the TARDIS?" Sophie and Laura both exclaimed in unison.

"No," Paul said. "Sarah needs to recover, and she can do it better in there than she can in this place. Arthur will look after her."

That little voice in his head spoke again. "Who exactly is Arthur?"

"You aren’t supposed to be eavesdropping, either, dear."

"You’re supposed to be shielding," she replied.

"A friend," he thought. "You’ll see."

In the gathering twilight, Spike and Lynda walked from the hospital and headed for the parking lot where Spike had left his motorcycle. Julie Craig’s red Triumph drove into the lot and stopped beside the bike. She waved at Spike and Lynda and motioned them over.

"Doesn’t anybody actually work at the Junior Gazette any more?" Lynda asked.

"We’re printing tonight. Way behind schedule, but it will be something at least," Julie responded. "We’re covering the fire. This—"and she pointed at the hospital as she spoke—"I don’t know how we do this. We may not even be able to print anything at all if we’ve been D-noticed."

"We have to say something," Spike said. "Two people died, and two more could have. You can’t just make that disappear."

"I think that’s what the Brigadier has in mind," Lynda said. "Julie, what do you know about the killer?"

"Nothing," she shrugged. "Nobody will say anything apart from that he was some deranged guy wandering around dressed in a strange outfit."

"Then I’m afraid I have an advantage on you. I know why the military is so interested in all of this, and there’s a lot more to it than some derelict with a vendetta against the newspaper business."

Julie looked puzzled. "Well, there’s Marriner. He’s an alien. I assumed that was why all the fuss was made."

"Marriner is an alien agent who decided he wasn’t going to carry out an assignment, and the guy who shot him was an alien who wanted to eliminate him because of his refusal. Everybody who the alien tried to kill knew something of Marriner’s function on Earth, and the assassin was looking to eliminate all the witnesses. You would have been on his list, too. You and your snoops in the States." Lynda looked pleased at Julie’s discomfort.

"Where’s Marriner, then?" Julie asked.

"Oh, you’ve seen him. He just doesn’t look quite as you remembered him."

"Stop being mysterious, Lynda," Spike admonished. "You’ve said enough; you may as well say it all."

"Remember what Kate told you about Marriner’s first resurrection? He’s done it again, Julie. The guard in Sarah’s room. That was him."

Julie’s face lit up in wonderment. "He’s cute." Then her face hardened. "I take it Kate has been talking to you?"

"Kate knows who the editor is," Lynda said.

"That’s enough!" Spike said, and Lynda complied. "We can’t go on like this. Sooner or later, somebody’s going to have to make a decision about who is running this paper. Is it going to be a stranger, or are we going to settle it amongst ourselves? We used to be friends."

Lynda nodded. "Julie, I have been under a lot of stress and that’s made me very difficult these past few days. I said some things, didn’t I?"

"Yes, you did," Julie said. "Some very spiteful things that you know aren’t true."

"I’m sorry, Julie. When I get back from the funeral, I’m going to have to make that a public apology."

"I’ll be expecting it," Julie said. "I accept your apology, but I want you to know that I’m not going to give up the editor’s chair easily. If you’re going to be reinstated, it won’t be by popular demand."

Spike looked annoyed. "She just apologized to you, for pity’s sake. Kerr said this was a temporary change at the time—you knew Lynda would be coming back sooner or later."

"Kerr doesn’t run this paper any more," Julie said. "Marriner does."

"And Sarah," Lynda added. "Sarah knows everything I’ve done for the paper."

"Yes, and I’m confident she’ll want to keep me right where I am," Julie said with a wicked glint in her eyes. "Sarah’s not around the office, anyway. Frazz has been assigned to her position as managing editor, and I don’t see him running up any flags for you, either."

"We’ll see," Lynda snarled, as she grabbed her helmet from the back of the motorcycle. "Spike, I’ve got a funeral to attend with Mr. Marriner. Let’s go."

Spike grabbed his helmet, and before he put it on, he looked hard at Julie Craig. "I’m beginning to wonder if you might be an alien, too, Julie. You aren’t the same person I remember working with."

"6 AM tomorrow, Spike. You’re holiday is over." Julie called out to him as he fired up the motorcycle.

"And your nightmare is about to begin," Lynda called out as the bike roared away.

In the hospital room, Sarah heard the now familiar noises of a TARDIS materialization. What she didn’t expect was for Paul to suddenly appear out of thin air in the center of the room along with the TARDIS console. He looked around, shook his head, and muttered what might have been a choice word or two under his breath. He flicked a few controls, and both he and the console disappeared. Sarah looked around, and then noticed a ceiling tile come loose. Paul stuck his head out of the ceiling. "Why they don’t make an architectural configuration program any idiot can understand is beyond me." He replaced the ceiling tile and a few minutes later walked out of the bathroom in the corner.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked in a comical voice.

"You want to make sure I come back, right? What better way than to leave you the TARDIS to look after in my absence?"

"And I won’t fly off to Neptune with it while you are away?"

"Oh, I think not. You haven’t the knowledge to pilot the craft yet."

From out of the bathroom came an impeccably dressed man who looked for all the world like a proper English butler.

"Were you going to want your dress suit or your uniform pressed for the funeral, sir?"

"I think I’ll want the uniform. I’ll need all the authority I can get over there." Paul turned to Sarah. "This is Arthur," he said.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Jackson," Arthur said.

"Thank you," she said. "Are you British? I couldn’t help noticing you don’t have Paul’s accent."

"My accent?" Paul chuckled. "You’re the one with the accent."

"No, Miss Jackson. I am a holographic projection of the TARDIS databanks and instructional systems, here to assist you in your recovery and education. I handle Paul’s instruction as well, lest you think he naturally knows everything about the universe." Arthur said without batting an eye.

"My tutor, if you like," Paul added. "Arthur helps out on running the TARDIS, since there is so much to know and I haven’t had enough time yet to learn it all."

"Paul, where is the TARDIS?"

"You happen to be inside at the moment, Miss Jackson," Arthur said. "Paul was trying to effect a materialization around the room and did a reasonable job for a beginner. I can see we will need to work on the configuration systems in more detail. You will recover much quicker within the TARDIS, Miss Jackson. TARDISes naturally provide a recuperative element for Time Lords who are injured.

"Are you going to teach me how to operate this thing?"

"I see no reason why not," Paul said. "One day when we’re older and bored with this place and time, there are an infinite number of places to go and things to see."

Sarah looked at him with a hint of concern. "This is my home," she said.

He nodded. "But you have to realize what it is to be a Time Lord, Sarah. Everyone you know now you’ll outlive. You’ll outlive their children. You’ll outlive their grandchildren. By that time, you’ll be middle aged, and when you finally do get old and worn out, you’ll regenerate and begin the circle all over again. You’ll be bored. Trust me."

Sarah looked sadly at Paul. "You say that so calmly. Doesn’t it matter to you?"

"My family are all dead," Paul said quietly. "I don’t have any ties. Maybe that’s why you’re here--so I’ll remember I’m something more than just a wandering alien and have a reason to get up in the morning and give a damn."

"And what of us? Do we just travel infinity together or do we actually try to have a regular life?" Sarah wondered. "I want to have a house and a career and maybe a family someday. Where does that fit in to your plans to flit about the cosmos?"

"Dinner parties with Mr. and Mrs. Thomson on the patio?"

"Don’t let Lynda catch you calling her that!" Sarah said, a smile coming to her troubled face.

Paul sat down on the bed beside her. "I’m not ready to go flying around yet. I have a nice life here, and while I’m having fun, why go chasing rainbows?" He paused, as if pondering something in his head. Sarah gave him a little nudge with a thought. "Family? Us?"

She nodded. "I assume we’re compatible species now, right?"

"Jennifer and I never had any children, but we were being very careful not to cross that bridge. She was still too young then. Genuine Time Lords are not able to reproduce in "conventional" terms, but maybe it would work for hybrids like us. I guess we’d just have to try it and see." He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Did I just say that?"

"Mmmmm. I think you did, Paul."

"We’ve known each other a week?"

"Yeah, that’s about right."

"And we’re talking about this?"

"Yes, we are."

"I must be dreaming," he said. "Arthur, this is your chance to say something wise here."

The butler, who had been observing all this without comment, scratched his forehead. "If this were a conversation between two humans, I should counsel against such talk. I do think the Time Lords would frown upon the two of you deciding to see other humans and create other hybrids. If you stay together, I think they’ll consider you easier to manage and leave you alone."

"What are we going to tell your parents?" Paul asked.

"Mom, Dad....I met this really cute alien who turned me into an alien so I can live forever and raise a whole world full of little aliens. Aren’t you excited?" Sarah giggled. "Oh, I’m going to hate explaining that one. They don’t like you anyway, and they’ve never even met you."

"I know. I play guard around here. I listen to them tear me to shreds when they visit you."

"And you stand there and say nothing," Sarah said, gripping his hand tightly.

"If you were my daughter, I’d be upset, too. I can’t blame them for caring about you."

"If we do have children, what happens when they get older and start dating humans? We get to have this conversation over again from another perspective?" Sarah shook her head. "This is too complicated."

"You’re thinking ahead. That’s more than Jen and I ever did when we married."

"I’ve got a lot of thinking to do, Paul. Something to do while you’re away and I don’t have to look at that incredibly cute face you’re wearing."

Paul sighed. "Pot luck, Sarah. I could have come out looking like an old washerwoman. Heck, I could have come out female for all I know. I’ve read Gallifreyan case studies about regenerations where that’s happened."

"Now you tell me," Sarah chuckled.

"It is very rare, Miss Jackson," Arthur added. "I shouldn’t worry about it."

Sophie and Laura wandered in, saw where Paul was sitting, and made a pair of faces.

"Just kiss her good night and get it over with," Laura said. "Adults are so disgusting."

Paul shrugged and gingerly kissed Sarah goodnight, got up from the bed, and went off to find the sleeping bags, with Arthur following in tow. The three women watched them leave and looked at each other. Sophie gave Sarah a wink and a nod in the direction they’d departed in. Sarah nodded, closed her eyes, and thought of something particularly pleasurable. No sooner had she done so then from inside the bathroom--presumably now posing as a TARDIS corridor--came a squawk and the sound of a closet full of junk falling out on the floor.

"Not a copy machine, I hope," Sarah chuckled. "I lose a lot of guys that way."

This page created by Murray Head on the eleventh of June, 1998.