An Adjustment for Sarah Jane

[h3athrow]

The Doctor’s hurried farewell flummoxed Sarah Jane. After abandoning Eldrad on Kastria—and her brusque deposit home, she slept fitfully. Tonight, she slept worse still.

     Her dreams, unknowingly fueled by the Doctor’s artron energy and the Master’s telepathy, were hallucinatory: a staser blast and a President’s death—and the Doctor’s memory of her, her visage bleeding into that of a Time Lord.

     “Imagine: Me, President!” she mused, stretching luxuriously upon waking. “I could return to Metropolitan. Document the creatures we encountered. But President? Perhaps Parliament.”

     Sarah Jane grinned sleepily. She could get used to this. She could adjust to the Doctor’s absence.