THE LONG WAY HOME, PART SIX

The eyes of Sarah and Paul blinked open more or less simultaneously to a circle of concerned faces watching them. Paul smiled at the group. "Are you all here to see me? How very thoughtful of you."

"Well done, Sarah," Spandrell said. "Not bad for a beginner."

"Thank you, Castellan," she replied. "If I leave him with you, do you think you can keep him out of trouble this time?"

Spandrell shrugged. "He is rather good at causing a commotion, Sarah."

"Sophie and Laura, go let Francis and the others know that I am alright, and I should like a pot of peach tea and some cookies sent to my room in short order. Then you two stand guard." They didn’t argue and promptly left the room after a brisk salute.

"I think I will see to Sarah’s return," Spandrell said, and he walked out of the room, leaving Paul, Sarah, Lynda and Kate to their business. Kate looked extremely nervous and Lynda seemed exhausted from crying. Paul walked over and embraced Lynda.

"I’m sorry I gave you such a fright, Lynda. You must believe that."

"Life was so much easier when all I had to worry about was the paper and Spike," Lynda said. "This is--"

"Tough?" Sarah opined.

"Yeah," Lynda said, missing the reason for Sarah’s vague amusement.

"What the hell is going on here?" Kate began to speak, and grew more angry with each passing word. "Kevin and I are sent out here to look up your past. Not only are you some kind of mysterious person with super powers, but this whole town is full of weirdos and aliens. Kevin and I get locked up for knowing you--this whole town has your fingerprints all over it, and they waltz around free as birds. You scare Lynda out of your wits, and magically Sarah just appears from half-way around the globe to save you. ‘Hocus, pocus, poof. Show’s over. Everybody go away while I drink my tea, eat my cookies, and have my head in the managing director’s lap.’ Damn it, I’m sick of this. I want some answers."

Sarah spoke first. "Who do you think he is, Kate?"

"He’s an alien of some sort. People don’t have magical powers. People can’t die and come back wearing a different face."

"Surely Angie said I was born of human parents. That would make me human." Paul said to her.

Kate was non-plussed. "Angie didn’t know you then. Presumably this ‘uncle’ of yours killed the real Paul and you took his place."

"Leslie of course could have told the difference."

"Paul, Leslie’s dead. I can make a nice conspiracy theory out of that," Kate replied.

"As any good journalist could. The question is, if you had the choice, would you?"

"If I thought you were a danger to our kind, yes."

"Or threatening the paper?" Paul asked. Kate didn’t respond to that inquiry.

"Very well, what would it take for you not to say anything?"

"How much are you paying Sarah?" Kate asked, looking at Sarah as she spoke.

Sarah was not terribly pleased. "Kate, he saved my life."

"You haven’t been picking up the pieces. I’ve been here comforting Lynda after he pulls this stunt on her."

"I can fight my own battles, Kate," Lynda said without much enthusiasm.

"We’re going to bury one of your ‘friends’ whose interests you were looking out for," Kate continued, ignoring Lynda entirely. "Is that a game to you, too?"

Paul’s face grew flushed, and he was about to launch into an angry reply when a small voice stopped him in his tracks. "Kate," Sarah said, "would you keep quiet if I asked you to."

"You ask me? Because you love him, right? Another Sarah Jackson loser of a guy--this isn’t going to hold up well in comparison to saving the world."

"Why bring me here? Why not ask you or Lynda to save Paul?"

Kate thought about this for a moment. "If you are in love, that would give you an advantage, I suppose."

An odd shadow crossed Lynda’s face. "Sarah, what were you doing to get him back?"

"Talking to him--" Sarah said. Paul grimaced as she said this, and Sarah quickly stopped speaking, and her face bore the sign of having made a very bad mistake.

"You didn’t say anything. How could you talk to him?"

"Like this," Sarah said. She looked at Paul and thought "I’ve really screwed this up." Paul nodded in agreement. "May as well get it over with," she thought in his direction.

"You two can read each other’s minds!" Lynda said. "If you can do that, Sarah--"

"It’s a gift I allow her to share," Paul interjected. "I’m very glad I did so, or I should be spending the next millenia as a vegetable. A Time Lord should always have such a bond."

"The Doctor and Peri didn’t have a bond like that," Lynda said. "I would have noticed. Do you also allow her to heal at a much quicker rate, too? She’s looking remarkably well for somebody who got shot in pretty impressive fashion just a few days ago."

"Lynda, I don’t like what you’re hinting here," Kate said.

"Who are you really?" Lynda asked Sarah.

Sarah began to speak, but Marriner intervened. "Lynda, not all Time Lords have the same gifts. The Doctor hasn’t nearly the same skills in telepathy as I do, just as he has a much greater grasp of time mechanics than I. To that end, I can grant Sarah access to my thoughts and access her own. The Doctor has too many secrets to hide to engage in such things with his companions--I do not."

"And her healing so rapidly?" Kate asked.

"Access to alien technology allows one to learn certain things. I can’t actually tell the doctors what I’m doing without breaking the laws of time, but as Sarah’s injuries are my responsibility, I think it permissible to bend the rules a little."

Frazz looked at his watch and decided it was time for a run down to the lunch counter for a sandwich. On his way, he happened to pass by Colin’s desk and noted Colin staring off into space with a strange grin on his face. This smelled of trouble, and Frazz decided to head it off at the pass.

"Colin," he said. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Cindy wants me to find her a job for the summer. This is so totally cool," Colin replied in a dreamy voice.

"Oh, wonderful. Bit by the love bug again. So where is this object of your affections now?"

"Ladies room," Colin said. "Shall I get her for you?" Colin started to get up.

"No, I don’t think that would be a good idea." Frazz pushed Colin back down into his chair. "What kind of job is she looking for?"

"Acting," Colin replied. "A job for Colin Matthews, Theatrical Management. I can’t tell you how exciting this is."

Frazz noticed a girl walk through the newsroom doors and look back at the bathroom with a very strange expression on her face.

"Colin," the girl said, "something very strange is going on in there. I think there’s a flasher in the building."

"A what?"

"I was in the bathroom doing, you know, and this woman walks into the stall next to mine and starts stripping off her clothes. She puts them into a bag, and then walks out to look at herself in the mirror. She’s wearing a really sexy blue teddy and high heels. That’s it. She puts a raincoat on over this, and then goes back in the stall to get her stuff. I decided I should get out before she saw me."

"Just when things are getting back to normal--" Frazz began, and then Julie walked into the office wearing a raincoat and carrying a bag.

"Frazz," she called across the room. "I have to run up to see Max before I have lunch with Matt Kerr, so you’re in charge until I get back."

"Yeah, whatever." Frazz turned and whispered to Colin. "Max? Why would she want to flash a bookkeeper?"

"Especially Max," Colin added. "Max gets fidgety when Mrs. Crandall the lunch lady speaks to him, and she’s older than my great aunt. Max isn’t Julie’s type at all."

"Maybe she wants to look at the books?" Cindy asked.

"I’d have a hard time getting permission to look at the books. Marriner’s keeping them under a very tight seal at the moment," Frazz said. "But if Julie wants to get the books, that would be a heck of a way to win somebody over."

"I think it is positively shameful to be walking around flashing the junior employees, and we should put a stop to it." Colin said.

"I quite agree," Cindy said.

"If I never get that perk, I’m certainly not going to allow Max to have it." Frazz thought for a bit. "Cindy, has Julie ever met you?"

"No, she never saw me in the bathroom, and I don’t remember her from my last visit to the Junior Gazette."

"Julie wouldn’t have been on the paper then," Colin added. "What’s her name was doing the graphics."

"You’re looking for an acting job?" Frazz asked her. "Can you impersonate a cleaning lady and see what they’re up to?"

"Child’s play," she said. "Get me a cleaner’s outfit."

Paul was resting comfortably on his own and Sarah decided to leave him to his tea and cookies. She had Sophie push her down the hotel hallway, and happened to see Kevin in the hallway outside of Lynda’s room sitting on a chair. He smiled at Sarah.

"Guard duty," he said.

"Since when does Lynda need a guard on her door?" Sarah paused. "Or are you guarding us from her?" She thought for a bit. "If that’s the case, why didn’t we have someone doing that four years ago!"

Kevin laughed. "Kate said to keep any weird alien life forms out of Lynda’s way until it is time to get out of here."

"And what are you supposed to do. Give them a stern talking to if they come by?"

"I suppose I can always hit them with the chair," Kevin smiled. "Kate isn’t dealing with this very well. She had a hard time accepting that Jason Wood really didn’t get drunk and drown in the Thames. She still thinks in her heart it’s his agent’s way of reaping a publicity coup for his next album. Alien life forms? Not even in her league."

"Well, can I see Lynda? I’m normal, right?"

"Of course you are." Kevin politely opened the door for her and Sophie pushed her inside.

Max was a very busy young man, and didn’t mind working hard and burning the midnight oil. Max loved numbers, and lived numbers in his role as an accountant for Paul Marriner. He wore thick glasses and had a badly scarred complexion from years of acne. Nobody wanted to look at him, and he was more than happy to hide away behind the stacks of papers in out-of-the-way offices.

The door to his office opened and Julie Craig walked in. He had met Julie briefly at a couple of staff meetings and wasn’t overly surprised to see her. Editors needed financial information as much as the military did--this would be her purpose in coming.

"Max, I need an unbiased opinion."

"I’ll do my best. On what topic?"

She sat a bag down on his desk. "I was shopping yesterday and bought a couple things and when I got home, I wasn’t sure which one would look better on me."

Max looked puzzled. "Not a question I normally field, Miss Craig. More a question you’d ask one of your friends, I would think."

"I need a guy’s opinion, though, Max." She pulled a red teddy out of the bag and held it up in front of her coat. "I got this one, but I wasn’t sure if it was the right color for me." She dropped it strategically in the middle of Max’s pile of ledgers. Max’s jaw dropped. "So I got a blue one instead," she said, and she opened her coat."

"B-b-blue. Definately. Um, blue." Max said.

"That’s what I thought." Julie smiled, and buttoned the coat back up again. "But I’m glad I have a second opinion."

"Um, is there, uh, anything else?"

Julie looked thoughtful. "How is the audit going? I heard it was sort of a mess."

"I can’t give you specifics," Max said, glad to be on more familiar ground.

"Specifics give me headaches. I don’t want to wrinkle this face by thinking about too many specifics. Give me general."

"Well, um, I shouldn’t, but...."

Julie tossed her hair about. "It is too hot in here, how do you cope?" She started playing with the top button on the raincoat.

"Okay, I’ll tell you. But you have to keep this between us."

"Cross my heart," Julie said. She did, too. Max’s eyes never strayed from her fingers.

"Okay, general. This place is a mess. Colin has money stashed all over the place. I don’t know how you guys managed to make it four years. Trying to figure out how much of the bottom line is yours and how much is Colin Matthews Enterprises is proving very difficult."

There was a knock on the door. "Janitor," she called out. "I need to straighten up."

"C’mon in," Max said. A young woman dressed in coveralls came in, pushing a small janitor’s cart. She began emptying the wastebaskets and stayed in the background

"We knew it would be. I expect you’re finding a lot of stuff that’s pretty shady." Julie said.

"Maybe, maybe not. Hard to say. Colin’s good at covering his tracks, and the less of a paper trail he leaves, the more difficult it is to prove he was doing anything shady. Col. Marriner works the same way."

"Surely you’re not implying the Colonel does anything illegal?" She fingered a button playfully.

Max shrugged. "He’s worth billions, but where does the money come from? He’s got a good knack for wise investments, that’s for sure. He’s got money stashed away in banks all over the world. He gets a retainer from various governments for ‘services rendered’ from time to time. You can’t prove anything illegal. But you wonder. It isn’t simple stuff like Lynda forgetting to reimburse the Junior Gazette for personal purchases or--"

"Say that again?" Julie’s eyes lit up like candles.

"Nothing important. Just a few credit card purchases here and there. Happens all the time in businesses. People mean to pay stuff back and forget. Normally, the accountant catches that right away, but since Colin was terribly sloppy about keeping up on such things, nobody reminded anybody and nobody collected."

"How much are we talking about here?" Julie asked.

"Oh, staff-wide, I’d say a couple thousand pounds."

"And Lynda personally?"

"Maybe a third to a half that total. I haven’t broken the numbers down, and I’m still sorting through stuff. I may find the reimbursements in a sock drawer or something. It’s happened before."

Julie looked at her watch. "Damn, I’ve got a meeting to get to in five minutes, so I have to run." She gave Max a hug. "Thanks for your help," she said, grabbing her bag from his desk and leaving. The maid started dusting his ledgers and Max lost his patience.

"That will be all!" he snapped.

"As you like, sir," she meekly replied and left. She walked out into the hall, pulling the cart behind her. After closing the door, Cindy reached into her cleaning lady’s bucket and stopped the tape recorder Frazz had hidden. "Gotcha!"

Julie stuck her head in Matt Kerr’s office. "Are you free for lunch?" she asked.

Kerr shook his head. "Busy all day. Might have time for a drink later, if it can wait."

"I’m going to hand you Lynda Day’s head on a platter," she began. "If only you had time, you could hear all about it. You might want to see what’s under the raincoat, too. I’m told it looks very nice on me." She briefly flicked the coat open, just long enough for Kerr to see.

"You have no shame, do you?"

"Do you have time now, Matt?"

"My schedule seems to be clearing."

"Oh, then it worked? Imagine that!" Julie’s face shown of innocent surprise.

"I’ll call you when I’m free. Now go get dressed, for pity’s sake."

She leaned over and kissed Matt. "For you, I will, darling." She left the room, whistling "The Stripper" as she walked out the door.

Kerr looked down at his desk. The mayor’s parking rate increase just didn’t seem so exciting now. Somewhere in the hall outside, it was Julie Craig’s turn to say "Gotcha."

"So, have you found your nerves yet, Lynda?" Sarah asked, having dismissed Sophie temporarily.

Lynda was sitting quietly in bed. "I’m fine, really. Kate insisted I lie down, and I’m just humoring her. I think she’s about to have a heart attack."

"I think I’ll be glad to get home," Sarah said.

"I think we all will," Lynda said. "Except for Paul. I don’t think this is going to be home for him for much longer."

"Yeah, I’m sort of hoping that’s going to be true," Sarah said in a disconnected tone.

"Answer me one question," Lynda said. "Paul’s not really telling the truth about you, is he?"

Sarah looked shocked. "How do you figure that?"

Lynda laughed. "I’ve had dealings with a Time Lord before this one, and hybrid or not, they don’t tell you anything they don’t think you need to know. If you two are telepathically connected--both of you equally connected to each other--then whatever you’ve got isn’t a gift from him."

Sarah’s expression was something less than enthusiasm, Lynda noted. "Okay, it isn’t a gift," Sarah said. "More of an accident."

"Go on," prompted Lynda.

"When we were shot, I sort of got infected by his genetic material."

Lynda’s eyes grew wide. "Infected? You mean you two are connected genetically?"

Sarah shrugged. "Natural arrogance: If their cells can’t kill you, they convert you."

"Convert? Oh my God, you aren’t one of his kind are you?"

"A work in process," Sarah said. "Listen, I don’t want to freak anybody out over this. Kate’s on edge already, and Paul’s going to have troubles enough explaining himself away without worrying over me. Can we keep this quiet?"

Lynda looked thoughtfully out the window. "If Kate were here, she’d be thinking in block letters: Aliens Invade--Looking to Turn Earth Women into Monsters."

"Kate’s not here."

"I know," Lynda said comfortingly, as she held Sarah’s hand. "I’ll see you through this. Stick with me and everything will be alright."

"Sounds like something Paul would say."

"No, Paul would hold a news conference and screw everything up. Trust me on this one. Keep it quiet, and you’ll be okay."

Extract from the Diary of Lynda Day: December 21, 1991

 We buried Leslie today. Considering all the fuss that led up to the event, there was surprisingly little of note that occured during the ceremony. The actual graveside service has been postponed due to a snowstorm which has pretty well shut down travel here locally. Everyone just met at the church, sang a few hymns, and talked about all that Leslie meant to their lives. Paul did not speak--perhaps it was just as well he did not, for that might have aroused a lot of passions on both sides. I think there was a lot more history between himself and Leslie than he ever told anyone, and I think it is sad in a way that her parents will never know all that she endured or why.

The snows have made outside travel impossible. That makes little difference to us. Paul has talked Spandrell into giving us a lift back to Norbridge in his TARDIS, and Sarah will be making her own separate trip, since I guess she is still supposed to be in her hospital bed and they have to put her back there yesterday or something like that. I’m not used to alien logic, but I guess it makes sense. All things considered, I’ll be glad to go back. I’m tired of all this emotional stuff. I want my paper back. Oh, yes, and I want Spike. BADLY!

Paul and Sarah were together in his TARDIS saying their goodbyes. "Spandrell says the coordinates are all locked in and ready to go, so have Arthur handle the dematerialization and you’ll be on your way home to meet me tomorrow night."

"You mean tonight, surely," Sarah asked.

"No, tonight was last night. I’m quite sure of it."

"I was here last night; don’t be silly."

"Technically, you are in both places, since you weren’t supposed to have left. You have to go back and live yesterday over as you were supposed to. Everything you’ve lived since you wound up here will all take place in a millisecond of time. You’ll remember, of course. But it won’t officially happen until today."

"When I’ll still be here and there."

"Exactly."

"Where will I be tomorrow?"

"How about dinner with myself and your parents? We need to get our arrangements straightened out and--"

Sarah looked as if she’d swallowed a lemon. "I don’t think my mum wants to discuss me right now."

A raised eyebrow greeted this news. "You two have a fight?"

"Yeah," she said. "I overdid it a little."

"How badly could you do. A little shouting, a little too much stress from everything--easily sorted out."

"I sort of used Victoria as a prop," Sarah said sheepishly.

"You did not. Tell me you did not do something so bloody stupid as that."

"She walked in when I was playing with Victoria. What was I supposed to say? ‘Pay no attention to the cougar on the hospital bed? It is a figment of your imagination!’ My mum’s not stupid."

"How do we grovel our way out of that? Sarah, she’s going to ground you until you’re an old lady, only that will mean for you until you turn 400 or so. That’s a hell of a long time to wait for a date."

"I’m worth it," Sarah said. "I’ve got my own place and I’m not a little girl any more."

"I know that. I also know that we’re going to have enough trouble convincing your folks of my good intentions towards you if you threaten to feed them to the lions if they annoy you. You’ve never threatened to have anyone eat them before; therefore it must be me who is teaching you all these bad habits."

"I thought I was the one teaching you bad habits?" Sarah asked with a smirk.

"We’ll leave your imagination out of this for the moment."

"I believe the words you meant to say were ‘Our imaginations’. It takes two, you know. And you did a pretty good job."

"How can I lecture you when you bring that up?" Marriner asked in mock desperation.

"You can’t," Sarah chuckled. "Oh, Lynda was casting out some feelers about whether I could talk you into a double wedding. I told her you hadn’t actually proposed yet, but that I’d ask."

"Lynda doesn’t want to pay the bills, I take it."

"Neither of those two has any money stashed away. It would be a nice gesture on our part."

"I’d gladly pay for their wedding without us doing anything." He paused. "How is it you’ve got me saying ‘us’ about my money. Did I miss something someplace?"

Sarah smiled. "You have the ‘us’ thing down very well. Certain other things, too."

"Can we talk about this tomorrow, Sarah?"

"Today is tomorrow and yesterday’s gone--" Sarah said in a sing-song voice.

This seemed to be a game Sarah was playing, so Paul thought for a second and came up with a rejoiner, which he sung back. "You learn too quickly, and perhaps this is wrong--"

"But you can’t resist me, or leave me for long--"

"I’ll see you tomorrow; make haste and be gone."

Sarah shook her head. "You were supposed to propose there, Paul. I gave you your cue!"

"No, no, no, no! That’s immature! Besides, I can’t say "Marry, me Sarah" there. It wouldn’t fit the rhyme scheme."

"Where do I find a word that rhymes with ‘Sarah’?" she said, eyes twinkling.

"There must be one someplace, Sarah Jackson Marriner. You’ll just have to work it out."

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