THE LONG WAY HOME, PART THREE

  Leslie’s body was scheduled to lie in state at a funeral home for one day of visitation, with the funeral to follow on the following day. The night before visitation was particularly stressful. Marriner had asked General Gardiner from the base to try and negotiate a deal to allow his presence in the funeral, and Gardiner soon discovered the McDowell family wanted no part of Lt. Col. Marriner’s presence. The funeral itself was to be something of a diplomatic event, bringing together the US Army, the British ambassador, and the American ambassador to the United Nations. A late addition to the diplomatic corps was the aging Castellan Spandrell, whom the Time Lord High Council had dispatched to mollify the Third Zone governments. As a result, Leslie’s casket was draped in four flags. She had an honorary Sergeant’s commission from the US Army, as a result of her services with Marriner in several alien matters that were never revealed publicly. The Union Jack and the blue and white UN flag marked her death in Marriner’s service while on UNIT business in the United Kingdom. Spandrell had brought with him a black and gold banner carrying the design of the Seal of Rassilon on behalf of the High Council.

Spandrell had somehow persuaded the McDowell family to relent. Marriner would be allowed a seat in the funeral service, but would be excluded from the visitation. That left Paul a day with nothing much to do, so he decided to visit the cemetery where Leslie was to be buried and visit his own wife’s grave. Lynda had grown restless in the hotel, and decided to tag along. Marriner had ordered the military provide him with a jeep, and one was promptly waiting for him outside the hotel.

Sarah was sound asleep in the middle of the night when she was awakened by a strange noise within her hospital room. She opened her eyes, looked around, and found two eyes staring back at her from the foot of the bed. This was not the time to panic, she thought, and so she mentally noted to turn the lights on. TARDISes she found did not have light switches, and you had to think them on yourself. When the lights came on, she found the eyes were those of a cat. A very big cat, as big as Sarah herself. The cat growled and put its front paws up on the railing of the bed.

"Arthur," Sarah thought. "Does Paul happen to have any pets I should know about?"

That brought Arthur running into the room. "Victoria!" he said, chiding the beast. "How did you get out?" The cat stared at him and growled. "That is Sarah, and she will be your new Mistress. Master Paul will be most displeased if you eat her."

The cat’s expression seemed to mimic a smile, and it licked its chops. "Yes, Victoria. I’m your friend," Sarah said quietly. The cat sprang onto the bed and started licking Sarah’s face. Sarah laughed, and gave the cat a ginger hug. The cat sprang off the bed and wandered off through the bathroom door and somewhere into the TARDIS interior.

"You handled that remarkably well, Miss Jackson," Arthur said. "We had to pry Miss Wilmot down from the ceiling the last time Victoria got out."

"What exactly was that thing," Sarah asked.

"A cougar," Arthur said. "One of the native big cats of the United States. Paul is quite fond of them, and this particular one was one of Angelus’ less successful experimental subjects. Paul wanted to keep it as a pet, and Angelus humored him with it. I trust you were not too frightened?"

"Surprised, yes." Sarah thought for a moment. "I should have been a screaming wreck, actually. The old Sarah would have." An odd expression crossed her face.

"Yes, but you aren’t the old Sarah any more."

"I haven’t regenerated, but I sort of feel differently. Is it a change in me, or is it this place?"

"Why don’t you ask that question as you wanted to?"

Sarah blushed a little. "Is it a change in me, or is it Paul changing me?"

Arthur smiled at her. "It may seem very strange to you, but Paul was a very insecure little boy even before Angelus started messing with him. He likes to feel wanted and needed more than most people do, and sometimes he helps the process along subconsciously in other people. It is cheating, of course, but he’s grown up enough that it is mostly done in a benign fashion now. We had a little trouble with him in puberty, but he’s calmed down now. Thank Rassilon for that! He is a good person, Sarah. You knew that. Maybe had you been humans, you’d have been good friends in a more normal course of events and come to fall in love someday. But Paul’s gifts are a little like magic, and that’s something you were seeking before this happened. You wanted to believe, he wanted you to believe, and it happened as it did."

"Am I magic now, too? Do I have the same powers he does?" Arthur looked at her with a hint of concern. "I don’t want to cause trouble," Sarah continued, trying to save face. "If I’m going to have to be careful how I treat other people, I’d like to know now."

"Every Time Lord has the potential for certain traits, but not all Time Lords have all abilities. Regeneration will better tell us what gifts you have, but even a hybrid like yourself will have a little "magic" in you. Using it wisely is all a part of growing up."

Sarah’s eyelids began to droop a little. "One more thing," she said. "I know you aren’t a "real" person, but what would you say if I asked you if Paul really loved me?"

Arthur looked very thoughtful. "You’re asking a machine to define love, Miss Jackson?"

"Silly idea," she said.

"I’m an extension of this TARDIS, and TARDISes know a lot about their operators. He cares deeply about you and thinks of you often. He’s very sorry to have brought this complication into your life and feels responsible for seeing you through this as best he can. He has a lot of doubts and concerns about what the future will bring, just as you do. I don’t see him thinking of his life without you in it, though."

"I feel a lot better now," she said, and closed her eyes.

"He also has these very interesting dreams about you."

One eye opened. "I know," she smiled. "But don’t tell him I know."

"He said the same thing to me about yours."

"I’ll get him for that on our wedding night. That’s a promise."

"I shall plan on holding his calls the next day, ma’am." With that, Arthur left the room.

"Try ‘the next week’ instead, Arthur." Sarah thought, and sunk into a beautiful dream of her own.

Marriner’s first stop on his itinerary had been a courtesy call on the local high school. He and Lynda had greeted some of his old friends on the faculty and reviewed the Reserve Officers Training Corps students drilling on the grounds. Lynda was introduced as his new business associate in Britain. From there, he meandered back downtown until he came to a small florist shop. He stopped the jeep, and ushered Lynda inside.

"Mrs. Billups!" he called in a loud voice. "Front and center!"

"What kind of a greeting is that?" Lynda asked.

"Used to be my gym teacher," Marriner grunted.

"Drop and give me twenty, Wonder Boy," came a shout from somewhere in the back of the store.

A stout woman who looked like she was in her late fifties came wandering up to the front counter. "Let me guess," she said. "Dead again?" Marriner nodded. "You’ve got guts bringing another one home in a casket. That’s not going to win you ‘Man of the Year’ in our book."

"I’m not here for a lecture, Billups, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to make me feel guilty. Just get me an arrangement worked up for the funeral and some flowers I can take to my wife’s grave. That’s all I want."

"Will you be taking your friend to the grave with you?" Billups asked.

"Yes, I’ll be there with him," Lynda said, watching her carefully.

"Going to parade her off to see her future?" Billups asked.

"Not if I can help it," Lynda spat.

"This is not gym class, and I’m not having fun any more. It would be useful for you to learn the difference," Marriner said. He went over to a cooler and grabbed a dozen roses. "Put it on the account with the funeral arrangement." He pulled Lynda out the door and put her into the car. He looked back in the store and saw Billups pick up a vase containing a bunch of chrysanthemums. He smiled, pulled out a revolver from his pocket and shot the vase out of her hand. "Next time, it’s between the eyes," he shouted back into the store, before he got into the car and drove away.

"You shot at her!" Lynda said in disbelief as he drove off.

"We did this sort of stuff all the time growing up. She used to booby trap the obstacle course when I ran it in school and pitch hand grenades in baseball practice. She married a karate instructor who lies in wait for her when she gets home and attacks her. She beats him off and if they’re both able to walk away from it in one piece, they have a grand old time making up. I bugged the house once. I know."

"That is the sickest woman I ever heard of. Who would want a relationship like that?"

"I guess some people do. Her husband used to do the same thing for a police inspector in France before he passed away. I used to think that was funny. Must be getting older I guess."

"She’s going to call the police."

"Hell, no. She’ll leave a note at the hotel saying I missed her hand by six centimeters and I’m a lousy shot and I couldn’t shoot her between the eyes if I was standing next to her with a cannon on the counter."

"And where exactly were you aiming," Lynda asked.

"Five centimeters," Paul said. Then his face clouded over with concern. "But for a moment there, I wasn’t sure."

"I don’t think this place is your place any longer, Paul." Lynda said quietly. Paul said nothing, but Lynda thought she saw the makings of a tear beginning to form.

"Dr. Sullivan! A word with you."

The tall man in the Navy uniform was wandering through the hospital waiting room when he heard a familiar voice.

"Loretta Jackson. How are you doing today?"

"I’m quite well, thank you. How is my daughter?"

"Doing remarkably well. She’ll certainly be home in time for Christmas."

"I must commend you people for your work," she said proudly. "I’ve never heard of a wound healing in such a rapid fashion."

"Mrs. Jackson, if it wasn’t for a little bit of infection in her blood, she’d be home tomorrow. As it is, we’ll have her back to you soon. Never fear."

"My husband and I were wondering how it happens that we have a Navy doctor treating our Sarah. Unless she’s gone to protest the military, I can’t think of what connection she could have to the armed forces that would earn her such a fine man as yourself. Not like that dreadful Marriner fellow she’s so stuck on."

"I think you misjudge Lt. Col. Marriner," Dr. Sullivan said. "He’s a fine young man who I’d go to battle with in a second."

"But Sarah shouldn’t be going to battles. She should be in university learning how to be a proper journalist, not frittering her time away with Lynda Day’s kiddie newspaper or playing secretary for some rich dilettante who would like to have her keep house for him some day."

"Ever hear of Sarah Jane Smith?" Dr. Sullivan asked.

"Who hasn’t? She’s one of Sarah’s role models."

"She spent a couple years with the military observing what we did and joining us in some of our missions. She would tell you it has expanded her horizons so that she’s a better writer now than she would be otherwise. There’s a perspective you gain of never really knowing what it is like to fight for your life unless you actually do it."

"What a barbaric sentiment for my daughter to have," clucked Mrs. Jackson. "You still haven’t answered my question."

"Not many people have the experience in dealing with this particular type of infection," Sullivan hawed. "I happened to treat a case like this once, and my name came up when the doctors encountered it."

Mrs. Jackson didn’t look terribly thrilled at the explanation. "I smell Marriner all over this."

"Smell whatever you like, Mrs. Jackson." Sullivan stalked off in a huff.

Mrs. Jackson took the elevator up to the third floor and headed down the corridor to Sarah’s room. She walked into the room and two pairs of eyes happened to be staring at her. One pair was her daughter’s, and the other belonged to a very hungry looking and very large mountain lioness.

"Relax, mum. This is just Victoria." The cat growled menacingly at Sarah’s mother.

"There’s a g-g-iant c-c-cat in your bed."

"So? Do you not like cougars, either? I’ll have to add that to my list of things you disapprove of."

"They eat people, Sarah."

"I’m nobody’s dinner," Sarah said cheerily and scratched the cat between its ears. The cat nuzzled up to Sarah in return.

"Paul’s, I assume?"

"Oh, most certainly. I think he was the last thing you disapproved of."

"Tell me how that beast got into this hospital. I shall surely find out."

"Would that be Paul or Victoria you are referring to?"

"Don’t be insufferable. You know perfectly well to whom I was referring ."

"Maybe it walked out of the bathroom."

"I raised you better than this, Sarah. Your father and I worked hard to get you into university, and what do you go and do? Hang around the Junior Gazette for two years, then drop out of school to pander to some careless goof with a fat wallet and a pet lion. Then you get shot on top of everything else. Didn’t you learn anything?"

"I learned a lot of things, mother. I’ve yet to learn a lot more. That’s life."

"What kind of answer is that? New age gobbledygook, I say."

"Do you trust me, Mum?"

The question startled Mrs. Jackson. "I once did. You blew that with Gary Morris, and Lynda, and Raymond. After what Raymond did to you..."

"Don’t lecture me about that!" Sarah screamed.

"You haven’t learned from it yet!"

"I’m going to teach you something, then." Sarah looked at the cat, and the cat jumped off the bed and walked over to Mrs. Jackson and snarled menacingly at her. "Here’s trust for you. Pet the kitty. I won’t let her harm you."

"I don’t think you have any say over that," Mrs. Jackson said nervously.

"The cat likes me. If I tell it to like you, it will."

"You don’t have that power."

"I tell you I do. Do you trust me?"

A brief hesitation of doubt crossed Mrs. Jackson’s face, but she put a hand on the cat’s head. The cat let out a loud noise--perhaps a lion’s version of a purr. The cat nuzzled her, and then strolled back to Sarah’s bedside."

"I told you to trust me, and for once you did," Sarah said. "Perhaps there is hope for you."

Mrs. Jackson began to slowly back towards the door, and left the room with the cat still staring at her. When the door had closed, the cat looked at Sarah and seemed to smile. So too Sarah. Dr. Sullivan and the hospital administrator appeared in the room a quarter of an hour later with Mrs. Jackson in tow to check out a wild story about Sarah having a monstrous cat in the room with her. Sarah invited the administrator to search the room, and search it he did. No cat was found, and Mrs. Jackson was kicked off the hospital grounds indefinitely for having interrupted the administrator in the middle of afternoon tea.

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