Disclaimer: Don't own it, sadly. Or I'd commission a range of proper books for it.

A/N: Curse of Clyde Langer was epic. That is all.

THE NEW SARAH JANE ADVENTURES

Episode Three

The Life of Sarah Jane Smith

LONDON, 8:15 am

Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep.

Huffing, Sarah Jane smacked down on the offending alarm clock. Infernal little thing, she didn't see why her husband liked it so much. He said he found it "cute". With a sigh, she shuffled out of bed, and as she pulled on her dressing gown, she realised she could smell the aroma of a fry-up. Peter was cooking again.

Smiling slightly now, she padded down the stairs and with a glance into the living room saw her thirteen year old son, Luke watching the television in his pyjamas. He didn't notice her. The television screen flickered with static, and the previous show – something with a dog and a magician – was replaced by a pair of faces, one girl and one boy.

Sarah Jane froze. No, no, not again.

"Sarah Jane, you need to wake up!" The girl – dark-skinned, Asian features but an English accent.

"It's no good Rani, she can't hear us." The boy muttered, with the whiff of a Scottish brogue. He raised some green light torch and waved it across the screen, with a low-pitched buzzing accompanying it. Just like when the boy – she refused to call the hallucination Mark – always used that contraption she felt a stinging headache. Go away, go away, go away…

"Mum?" Luke asked curiously. "You okay?"

Sarah Jane started. The television was back to normal. "I'm fine sweetie. Go get dressed. Daddy's making us breakfast."

With a dejected sigh, Luke got up and stomped past her. Sarah Jane released the breath she hadn't realised she had been holding. The therapist had said she was fine now. Those faces, those voices shouldn't be around anymore. They had been gone for months! She couldn't deal with it all again. Those stupid hallucinations, talking about timelines and aliens and space-time explosions, she didn't need them.

Breakfast smelt good. It tasted even better. Bacon, eggs, sausages and toast.

"Well." Her husband, Peter joked at the thousandth compliment. "One of us has to be the chef of the house, and since you keep burning it…"

"Hey!" She defended herself, and taking a sip of orange juice. "One time."

"Because I haven't let you cook since." He teased. His smile turned to a worried frown. "What is it, what's wrong?"

She sighed and ran a stressed hand through her hair. "It's nothing."

"Is it them? I can call the doctor-"

"It's nothing!" Sarah Jane snapped. Peter pursed his lips, but otherwise held his tongue. He had long since learned his wife's temper.

An hour later and Sarah Jane left the house, dressed and ready for her day's assignment: investigating the reports of Dodo overpopulation in the countryside, followed by an interview with a small time band calling themselves the Beatles. Then she had to finish her article on the new dinosaur arrivals at the London Zoo.

She certainly had a busy day ahead. She really didn't need any more visions.

LONDON, 6:03 pm

Sarah Jane lay unconscious in the attic of Thirteen Bannerman Road, under the protective gaze of Mark Auld and Rani Chandra. They had no idea what had befallen her – they had simply found her here, in the attic unconscious. They knew it couldn't be good.

"Any ideas?" Rani prompted Mark and the attic's supercomputer. Mark sighed and pocketed his sonic screwdriver. "Not really." He said regretfully. "It's something timey-wimey though. Space-wacey. Pain in the backside."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Of course it is." Mark rolled his eyes in exasperation. "What else would it be?"

"And yet you don't know what it is." Rani pointed out.

Mark harrumphed at that. "I'm a Time Lord. I know my timey-wimey. And I can feel that whatever is afflicting Sarah Jane is bad. Like really bad."

"How bad?" Rani asked nervously. Mark began to wring his hands and pace back and forth.

"Really, really bad. It's all going south. I'm talking end-of-the-world bad. I'm talking toast landing butter-side down bad. I'm talking Tesco's cheaper than Asda bad. I'm talking Star Wars prequel bad. I'm talking your allergic aunt taking a bite of a peanut butter sandwich bad!" By the end he was waving his hands around madly.

"Guess I'm missing Beaver Falls then." Rani muttered.

"There you go! Finding the upside in everything." Mark beamed. "I like that about you."

"No- I like that show."

Mark's face fell. "Oh. Really?"

Rani cocked an eyebrow. Mark raised his hands defensively. "Okay, okay. Back on topic."

LONDON, 10:25 am

As Sarah Jane drove in her hover-car towards the Tower of London – urban legend said that Guy Fawkes was imprisoned there after trying to blow up the Parliament three days ago. Something in that musing felt wrong to Sarah Jane, but she paid it no real mind.

The whole world was punctuated by things that didn't add up. Animals in habitats that didn't make sense – there were polar bears in Egypt and crocodiles on the North Pole – yet scientists said that they were naturally suited to other environments. Historical books presented events that happened in the current day. And then there were the clocks. They ran so slow, almost as if they were out of sync with reality. It made no sense, and yet it did.

After all, if you grew up knowing the world, what could you think was wrong?

She reached for the radio, hoping for some music to dispel the thoughts of contradiction that plagued her mind. For an instant, music filled the vehicle, then, a burst of static.

"Well, Rani, it's like, uh…ever heard of chronal duplicity theory? No? Didn't think so, not even a real concept yet for humans."

With a help, Sarah Jane dived for the radio and switched it off, swerving in the airways, much to the discontent of her fellow drivers. She did not need this right now. Those damn voices had followed her throughout her adult life. They had been there when she had gotten her first big job at the paper years ago, they had been there when she had married Peter. Even during Luke's birth. A string of therapists and psychiatrists and pills and techniques had done nothing to get rid of them. No one was quite sure what to do about the voices only she could hear.

She was lucky not to have ended up in an asylum.

LONDON, 6:37 pm

From places unknown, Mark had pulled seven mirrors, three coffee machines, four laptops, a portable radar and something he called a "temporal projector". The seven mirrors were circled around Sarah Jane while the machines had been pulled apart and rebuilt and lashed together by metres of coloured wire that Mark had pulled from his pocket.

"Umm…" Rani began. "What is all this?"

Mark, sonic in hand and with his brainy specs didn't look up from his work. "It's a thing, okay? A time thing. I can't be bothered coming up with a name."

"What does it do?"

"Well, the mirrors act as refractors for the chronon energy generated by the projector. We can then direct that energy to engineer a complex space-time distortion which will destabilise the temporal paradigm that whatever is harming Sarah Jane is using and allow it to be perceived by four-dimensional creatures." Mark babbled.

"Uh, English?"

"Timey-wimey mirror, lets us see what's wrong with Sarah Jane." Mark deadpanned slowly, as if talking to a five-year old.

"Sorry I don't have a perfect understanding of temporal physics." Rani muttered.

"Then what do they teach in school these days?"

"But you went to-"

"Aha!" Mark cried jubilantly, cutting her off. "It's live."

Rani momentarily forgot her annoyance. "Will it hurt her?"

"Won't even feel a thing." Mark smiled. "Mister Smith, activate time array."

"Activating." The supercomputer rumbled. The lashed-together machine began to whir and whine and vibrate. Sparks flew from a few loose cables, and air seemed to ripple around Sarah Jane within the ring of mirrors.

Rani frowned, and then her mouth opened in an "O" of pure shock. "What the hell is that?"

Wrapped around Sarah Jane's neck with deadly grace was a snake. A lithe thing, with sleek, shiny onyx-coloured scales. Its eyes were amber slits, and seemed to promise nothing put danger. It was wrong. Like it didn't belong in the world, somehow. Almost like it was unnatural. Rani had never felt such trepidation towards a lifeform like she was with the thing. And she had seen a lot of evil and wonderful aliens. Mark, however, simply looked at the thing with a look of grave recognition.

"What is it?" Rani asked, warily. Part of her didn't want to know the answer.

"It's called a texar exjim." Mark said quietly. "They're a servant race for the Trickster's Brigade."

Rani started. "Trickster? He has a brigrade?"

Nodding, Mark spoke again. "Yup. An army of pawns and proxy agents, tasked with creating chaos in the universe. This thing in particular is a real piece of work. The Eternals tried to wipe them out when the universe was in its infancy."

"Eternals?"

"Demi-gods, basically."

"Right." Rani said. "So whys this one so bad?"

Mark looked at her seriously. "Let's just say it has one hell of a party trick. Basically, it doesn't just change the timeline. It mutilates it."

"How?"

Mark paused wondering how best to explain. How does one explain complex temporal theory without giving themselves a headache? He began to talk again, making subtle gestures with his hand and pacing back and forth. Almost like a teacher, really. "Usually, when you change the timeline it simply diverges, like a branch. And forever more, those two timelines, those two possibilities go off and never crossover again."

He noticed a notepad and picked it up. Using a pen found in one of his pockets, he drew two straight parallel lines and held them the pad up to Rani. "This is the normal Trickster-timeline-change scenario."

"Right. So the Trickster or his brigrade change the timeline and cause havoc, but the timeline itself is stable?" Rani concluded.

"Exactly!" Mark smiled.

"So this thing does something to cause time itself to destabilise?" Rani continued, beginning to see where he was going.

"Yup. It actually spilts its victim between two timelines simultaneously." Mark said.

"So Sarah Jane's mind is in an alternate timeline?"

He drew two new lines, this time crossing over in an "x" shape. "Yeah. But that isn't the problem. I mean it is, but the universe can deal with that. Salazar over there though, what he does is act as a focal point for the two timelines, meaning that eventually, Sarah Jane will be at the exact same moment in time, on two timelines, simultaneously." Mark said.

"And that's the problem?" Rani guessed.

Mark nodded again. "Well, Rani, it's like, uh…ever heard of chronal duplicity theory? No? Didn't think so, not even a real concept yet for humans. Basically, a person, or object – well, technically any matter – can't exist on two timelines at the exact same moment in time. It's one of those intricacies of time travel you don't come across often."

"It's basically a temporal impossibility, like a paradox." Rani guessed. Mark beamed and snapped his fingers at her. "Exactly!"

"So what happens then?"

It was Mr Smith who answered. "There has never been a confirmed instance of chronal duplication theory in effect, but it is believed that there would be a rip in the fabric of space-time."

Rani frowned. "Hang on. Wouldn't this already have happened? If the timelines were independent, then it would've already happened and rippled back on us."

Mark stared at her. "Wow. You're cleverer than I thought. But no. Time isn't a line. It's all relative and subjective and fluctuating and confusing."

"Okay. So we've got time to fix this then?"

"Mister Smith?" Mark asked the supercomputer.

"Space-time event will occur at seven thirteen PM." Mr Smith informed them neutrally. That meant thirty-six minutes to doomsday.

"Definitely butter-side-down bad." Rani said, hoping to relieve the all too palpable tension that had settled in the attic. Then she frowned. "How is the second timeline created? Like how is it different besides the change? Obviously, Sarah Jane won't remember the original – that'd be too easy."

Mark smiled slightly in praise for her reasoning. "It's probably compressed. Thirteen and a half billion years squashed into a few hours. History will bleed together and fold in on itself. Of course, it'll also possibly be based partially on Sarah Jane's deepest desires. Her dream life. The last failsafe."

"To make it harder for her if she found out about the two timelines?"

"Yeah." Mark said sadly. "Not that there's much we can do about that. We need something to get onto the artificial timeline."

Rani could see his line of thought. They needed a time machine.

They needed the Doctor.

LONDON, 11:17 am

Sarah Jane made sure to pat down any creases in her trousers, and that not a hair was out of place on her head. One of the many rules of journalism: always look professional. No one wanted to talk to someone who looked like they had been in a fight. A good image showed you knew what you were doing. And if you looked like you knew what you were doing, people were more likely to trust you and talk.

Not that such an effort would be particularly necessary for this job. A simple routine piece on the over-population of the Dodos in the countryside, and what steps should be taken. Hardly high on the list of important things – everyone was desperate these days for the latest gossip on Cleopatra and Mark Antonius – the couple of the century, and the latest Gladiator results.

Stangely, the man she was due to interview called himself Dr John Smith, although when asked what he was actually a doctor of, he simply said "the universe". And then there was the place they were due to meet. Not an office, or a café, but the London Museum. He didn't work there – she had checked – so Sarah Jane wasn't quite sure what to expect.

She entered the museum atrium. Lots of grey marble, designed to give a sense of cool style and professionalism. In the centre of the atrium there was a ring-shaped desk, where the receptionist – a young man, probably fresh from college – was talking on the phone to someone. Sarah Jane calmly walked up to the desk and waited patiently for the receptionist to finish. Eventually, he did and turned towards her expectantly.

"Hello." She greeted him, smiling. "My name is Sarah Jane Smith. I'm a journalist, here for a meeting with a Doctor John Smith?"

The receptionist – she noted the little badge on his lapel said Jack – nodded and quickly typed something into his computer. "He's waiting for you in the modern history exhibit."

Sarah Jane smiled. "Thank you."

Five minutes later, she was walking into the aforementioned section of the building. It was a circular room, with each exhibit located behind a glass wall, with a little stand in front with information printed on a square of white plastic. There was a selection of weaponry from the Third Crusade, a telegram machine, the fossilised remains of an Archaeopteryx, and a dozen other exhibits based on the last century or so,along with one marked "in progress" with yellow tape covering the glass, although she thought she saw something blue behind it.

And examining the telegram machine with an amused smile was a …striking man. Middle-aged, probably late forties. Wavy ginger locks framed a weathered face with piercing green eyes and a bit too-large nose. His clothes were bizarre to say the least – he was wearing a red-blue tartan suit jacket, dungarees and a pair of boots.

I think I preferred him with the scarf. Sarah Jane blinked. Where had that come from?

"It's a funny old thing, Time." The man – John Smith – said, in a rich voice. "Time. Capital "T", by the way."

"There's a difference?" Sarah Jane asked. She wasn't too sure where this was going.

"Oh, there's all the difference in the world, my dear." The man continued. "Time without a capital is just boring old time. 'What time is it?' or perhaps 'bed time'. Now Time with a capital "T", now that's a much more grandiose thing, beyond the thought of human imagination."

Sarah Jane couldn't be bothered to humour him anymore. "Doctor Smith?"

"I prefer just the Doctor, to be honest. Capital "D". Heh. Capital "D" for Doctor and capital "T" for Time. Funny that."

Doctor? Doctor who?

Just the Doctor. The one, the only and the best!

"My name is Sarah Jane, Doctor, and I'm here-"

"To talk about the overpopulation of Dodos in the countryside. A pretence, I'm afraid."

Sarah Jane suddenly began to have a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Part of her was screaming to run away. Part of her, however – the stupid part, the younger girl who dreamt of adventure – was secretly curious. "Pretence for what?"

"Why to talk to you of course!" The Doctor cried jubilantly. "Would you care for a sherbet lemon, my dear?"

Sherbet lemon. Wrong. Jelly babies.

"Something wrong, Miss Smith?" The Doctor asked, eying her worriedly. Sarah Jane blinked, suddenly flustered. "Oh, erm, nothing. Just a stray thought."

The Doctor laughed. "Ah, those little rascals. I have them all the time."

She smiled awkwardly. He frowned slightly, and pocketed the little paper bag he had produced a few seconds ago. "Problem?"

"What do you want from me?"

The Doctor frowned. He shrugged. "There are some things, Miss Smith, that go beyond our understanding."

"Is that so?"

The Doctor sighed. "What time is it?"

The question took Sarah Jane back. "The time?"

"The time." He repeated quietly.

"The same time it always is. Eight-fifteen." Sarah Jane snapped. So many pointless questions!

"Is it?"

Sarah Jane rolled her eyes, pulled up her sleeve to reveal her watch and raised it to his eyes as proof. When he simply cocked his eyebrow at her, she actually looked at the clock-face itself. And she was shocked. The time had changed. The clock now read 11:28. Before, today it hadn't moved a second, but now a whole full three hours had passed.

"But…" Sarah Jane muttered. "What?"

"Time is…running out." The Doctor said simply.

"Running out?" Sarah Jane repeated. "Don't be silly."

"Oh? Silly I may be, but wrong I am not." The Doctor said, wearily. "The fact the clock never changed – it never bothered you? Or the fact that history is a jumbled broken mess? Look!"

He waved around at the exhibits. "Third Crusade. Hundreds of years ago and yet just happened yesterday. A dead bird, extinct for millions of years and yet newly discovered alive. It's impossible. Broken."

"What are you saying?" Sarah Jane asked. The Doctor sighed.

"I'm saying that this world, this timeline; it's a lie. And you're the crux, the epicentre. It's here because of you."

Sarah Jane simply gaped at him. So basically, her entire life was the result of a broken timeline. She didn't believe him. "Listen here. I don't know who you are, or what you want, but this is not funny. And since this interview is obviously a dud, there's really no point in continuing this conversation." And with that said, she turned on her heel and marched out.

"Sarah-"

"And my name is Sarah Jane. Not Sarah."

LONDON, 12: 13 pm

Sarah Jane panted as she all-but-sprinted up her drive. After leaving the museum, she had bolted to her car, and driven home with all haste. She had made to cancel all her jobs and interviews for the day. She had had to deal with less than sane people before, before something about that man – Doctor, whatever – had shaken her to the core. He spoke with such simple truth, such belief in what he said that Sarah Jane couldn't help but begin to believe him. And that nearly broke her heart.

Believing him meant that this world was a lie. That her life was a lie. Her husband. Her son. Everything she had ever known, and probably would know, wasn't real. She refused to believe that. She would forget all about that strange man, and get on with her life. Yes, yes she would.

She reached into her bag and retrieved her keys. She inserted the appropriate one into the lock of her front door – her hands shook ever so slightly – and turned it to unlock the door with a click. She pushed open the door, stepped in and then closed it behind her. Luke would be at school and Peter would be at his law firm. So she would be all alone. Good. She could pour herself a good strong cup of tea and sort out her thoughts.

The postman had been round already, and there was a small pile of mail lying on the doormat. Absentmindedly, she scooped them up and scanned through them as she made her way through to the kitchen. Bill. Bill. Mortgage repayment. A letter from Peter's sister in the Bahamas. There was also a deep red envelope, devoid of stamps or even an address. In fact it was completely devoid of any features. It must have been delivered personally.

She entered the kitchen, and dumped her bag and all but the red letter on the table top. She flicked on the kettle and then took a seat as it boiled. Carefully, she began to tear open the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of creamy paper. Completely unblemished, it simply read a single word.

Sky.

Sarah Jane turned the letter over in her hands. Nope. Nothing else. Just that one little word. Sky. What about it? There was obviously something to it. She supposed it could've been a name as well. But still, a name that meant nothing to her.

Had that Doctor posted this? Another part of this strange plan to convince her that her world was broken? It made a sense of sorts, she supposed.

The kettle whistled and hissed steam. Good. Time for a good old cuppa. She put down the letter and stood. She pulled out a mug, tea bag and milk. She stuck the teabag in the mug and poured the hot water in and waited a minute. Then she added a lash of milk. Lovely. As soon as she took the first gulp she instantly began to feel better.

Oh, what to do, what to do. She actually felt better now. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty in cancelling the rest of her day's work. Now that she had steadied her nerves, she might've actually managed her other interviews. Oh well. She guessed she had earned a day off.

Sarah Jane's eyes settled on the clock above the fridge. 12:20. Time was moving forward. Running out. Why though? That's what she didn't understand. Vaguely, she once remembered how she had interviewed someone proclaiming the end of the world. Now that it was of course. That was just ridiculous. The Doctor was a loon, simple as.

Knock-knock. Someone was at the door. With a long-suffering sigh – she had rather been hoping for a lazy day – she put down the half-drunk tea and made her way through the hall. She reached the door, and opened it. And there stood the Doctor, hands clasped behind his back and a cheerful grin on his face.

"Hello Sarah…" Her eyes narrowed. "Jane." He finished.

"How did you find me?" She demanded.

The Doctor gave a booming laugh. "I can travel all of time and space. A simple house call is hardly beyond me."

"Time and space?"

"Indeed."

Sarah Jane frowned. "How?"

The Doctor smirked. "With a time machine of course!"

"I hope it's not a DeLorean." Sarah Jane rolled her eyes. Why was she even talking about this?

"Nope." The Doctor said. "Far better. Would you like to see?"

LONDON, 06: 42 pm

"Why do you use two screwdrivers?" Rani asked in amusement, as she watched Mark work. "Do you use the big one while you're feeling inadequate or something?"

Mark scowled. "No. Just helps to have a spare."

"Uh huh." Rani teased. Mark didn't bother to dignify her jibes with a response, and simply continued to fiddle with the mirror array. He was trying to see if there was any way to use the chronon energy to bounce it back at the texar exjim and dislodge it, theoretically freeing Sarah Jane from the artificial timeline. Or so he said. He wasn't having much luck.

For all her attempts to lighten the mood, she was very much afraid. They were looking at the end of the world as they knew it. And while that wasn't such an alien concept to the pair of them, it was a first that they had been so powerless about it. For all the things she had seen, all the things she had done, there had never been a moment where she had thought 'there's nothing we can do.'

Except this time, it seemed, there really wasn't.

"Mark." She asked quietly. "What are we meant to do?"

"Uhh…pray? No." Mark said. "Trust."

Rani raised her eyebrows. "Trust what?"

"Trust Sarah Jane."

LONDON, 13: 32 pm

"How…"

"How is it bigger on the inside, you mean?" The Doctor finished, smiling. "Well, the actual process is called "transcendental dimensionalism. It's basically a separate dimension."

Sarah Jane nodded absentmindedly. They were in the Doctor's time machine. Or, as he called it, the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimension In Space. And it was bigger on the inside. And it was a time machine. And, perhaps strangest of all, the exterior of the impossible machine was a carbon copy of a typical 1960's police phone box, down to the shade of blue.

The inside was rather dark. Lots of grey metal and cool, clear glass. The control room – she assumed – was a large dome. In the centre, raised slightly from the rest of the floor was the control console – she assumed. It was very high tech she supposed, in a retro sort of way. Lots of big colourful buttons and levers, surrounding a central column containing a tubular structure.

"So, what do you think?" The Doctor asked cheerfully. She got the impression that he rather liked showing off this feat of alien technology. Not that he had said he was an alien. But what else could he be?

"Why a phone box?" Sarah Jane asked curiously.

The Doctor's face fell slightly. He had been hoping for something a little more indulgent, rather than journalistic questions. "The chameleon circuit broke a whiles back. Never got round to fixing it."

"I see." Sarah Jane said simply.

The Doctor huffed. "Usually, people are a bit more impressed. Nay, amazed."

Sarah Jane shrugged. For some reason it felt familiar to her. Even though she was pretty sure she had never seen anything like this before. The Doctor sighed again. She decided to press for her answers now.

"So, going to tell me why you've singled me out?"

The Doctor popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth, obviously playing for time. Sarah Jane simply looked at him with a give-me-answers-or-else look. The Doctor deflated. "I need your help."

"Couldn't you have simply asked?" She pointed out.

"No. You need to understand, before you can commit." The Doctor said wearily.

"Commit to what?"

"This course of action." The Doctor muttered quietly. "What I said about the timeline, it's all true. You can't escape it."

Her eyes narrowed. "So I'm just supposed to accept that this life – my life – is a lie?"

"Not a lie, no." the Doctor corrected. "Rather, the product of a timeline artificially created."

"That means you are too." Sarah Jane pointed out. The Doctor nodded sadly.

"A fact I've accepted."

"But…why? I mean, this isn't hurting everyone."

The Doctor shook his head. "This timeline's existence means the end of another's as well as this one. We can cancel this one out though, and save the true one."

"But why? What makes that one so much better?" Sarah Jane pleaded. She could tell that the end of this timeline would mean the end of her. And Luke, and Peter and everyone she had come to know and love.

"Because it's true. In that timeline, you are so much more than you are now. So much greater." The Doctor cried.

"Am I happy?" She asked quietly. The Doctor shifted uneasily. "Well?"

"I don't know." The Doctor admitted honestly. "But I do know, that your decision here today will decide on the fate of two universes. So." The Doctor eyed her intently. "Are you going to come with me to save the world, or leave to see it end?"

Save the world. See it end.

So sayeth the words of the madman with the impossible time machine. What was she to do? She had a family, a loving husband and son. She had a job. A home. A car. And the Doctor said none of it was real. That one single creature that couldn't possibly exist had created it and everything about it. That meant Luke and Peter and everyone she had ever known were a lie. And yet…there was a sombre ring of truth to his words.

Who was she in this other world? For all she knew she could be a cruel old woman, or a homeless widow. Or she could be brilliant, a swan amongst ducks and a sun amongst stars.

What was she?

Who was she?

What should she do?

LONDON, 19:02 pm

Rani looked out the window. Dark grey clouds had swarmed in overhead. It was a storm. Heavy rain had begun to pour down from the heavens onto the ground below and brilliant blue lightning arced across the sky, heralded by booming thunder. End of the world, and we've got a front row seat.

Strangely, a calm serenity had befallen her. She wasn't scared, like she thought she had been earlier – powerless, yes, but not scared. The fact that she would never see her parents, or Clyde, or Luke had scarcely entered her mind. She felt at peace. Of course, Mark didn't seem too keen on going gently into the night. He acted coolly and methodically; he had reconfigured the time mirror system a dozen times, trying to find some way – some brilliant, impossible way – to dislodge the time-snake and save the world. And probably act more than a little smug.

"Give up." Rani told him. "It's never gonna work."

"Bah, pessimist." Mark grumbled. "The Wright brothers said I couldn't make a working aircraft, and I showed them wrong. The Chess-Lord of Bavarc Two said I couldn't beat him at his game, and I did. Don't tell me I can't do something. It hasn't happened."

"Sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"I've survived the end of the universe. I refuse to be done in by some stupid little snake!"

Rani laughed. "Rage, rage against the dying of the night."

"Elliot! Lovely chap. Really should've gotten him some nicotine patches." Mark muttered absentmindedly. He yelped and drew his arm back as a shock from the device coursed through him. "Son of a…"

Rani laughed again as Mark sucked on the thumb that the electricity had gone through. Everything was funny to her. "Want me to kiss it better?"

Mark cocked an eyebrow at her. "What the hell's wrong with you? It's only the end of the world. No need to get loopy."

"Nothing is wrong with me." Rani insisted. "Just remembering the good old days. Want to hear a story?"

"No. But I assume you're going to tell me anyway."

Rani ignored the rebuke. "Once, these two races that were at war came to Earth with a weapon."

"Uh huh."

Rani scowled. "They were called the Fleshkind and the Metalkind. And the Fleshkind had a weapon to wipe out the Metalkind." Rani blinked suddenly, as if a thought had suddenly slipped away from her. Mark noticed the subtle shift and examined her curiously.

"Rani?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Where was I? Right and the weapon was called the…Sapient Kinetic Incidentor, or SKI."

Mark cocked an eyebrow and muttered under his breath. "There's no such thing."

"And we stopped it, the end." Rani said cheerfully. Mark frowned, and then glanced at the machine. He instantly saw what had happened. The blasted thing was venting gas into the room. Rani was off her head on the stuff. The wonders of a respiratory-bypass system, he supposed.

"Illzulium gas." He chuckled to himself, as he set about plugging the leak. "Not the best for a human. Mildly hallucinogenic."

A minute or so later, he had taped over the leak with gaffer tape and plonked himself down with hands clasped patiently, waiting for the gas to leave her system. She had gotten a good dose of it. She was grinning madly, laughing at something he couldn't see. And she was talking about someone called Eve. Not that he knew who that was. Eventually, her eyes managed to focus and the smile slowly slid off her face. She would be fine, save a mild headache. And he supposed the embarrassment he could inflict on her by asking who "Timmy-Two-Minutes" was.

LONDON, 19:02 pm

"Righto!" The Doctor cried out, running around the console little a little schoolboy with too much sugar in him. "1974. The year you met me. Same day, in fact."

"Right." Sarah Jane nodded. The Doctor had explained it all to her. They were going back in time to the point of divergence. Or so he said. The reason behind all this, he claimed, was a creature called a texar exjim. It certainly didn't come from Earth. And it basically caused a disturbance in the timeline and bound them together, which created some sort of temporal explosion. Whatever that meant. So here they were, in the past were the creature struck and stop it.

"How do we stop it?"

The Doctor rubbed his hands together in a business-like manner. "You touch yourself."

"What?"

He blinked, then blushed a shade of red to match his hair once he realised what he had said. "Not like that! Basically there's the version of you from this time period, where the time-snake is going to cause the change. But if you touch that version of you, this Blinovitch Limitation Effect kicks in; the time-snake gets dislodged and the timeline snaps back together."

"Right…" She had no idea what a Blinovitch Limitation Effect was, but she decided to roll with it. The day could hardly get any weirder.

The Doctor placed a hand on her shoulder and marched her towards the door. "Now, your alternate self is going to be heading for the boss' office to see if there's any stories for her to follow. Just walk up to her and touch her, and that's it."

"Is this safe?"

"Not particularly."

Sarah Jane sighed. The Doctor beamed as he opened the doors, and with a final word of "good luck!" he pushed her out of the TARDIS and closed the doors behind him. How rude.

"Typical man." Sarah Jane huffed. "Give the woman the real work."

Like the Doctor had said, this was the office for the first paper she had ever worked for. It was a moderately-sized place, she could remember. There were lots of filing cabinets and blocky computers. It was made of endless beige walls, and rather monotonous save for the occasional potted plant or tasteless picture. The occasional person milled about; one was getting a drink from the water cooler, another – really bad perm- was carrying a pile of paper in her arms.

Now. Where would she be? The other Sarah Jane. The Doctor had said that she was heading for an office to find a story to follow up on. Fair enough. She would just have to find said office and park up and wait.

She briskly walked forward. She would ask the lady with the papers which way. She could simply say that she was the alternate Sarah Jane's mother or something. She would be around 23, so it was largely believable. Gently she reached out and tapped the woman on the shoulder - she had her back to Sarah Jane – and made her jump, sending the papers flying.

They didn't come back down. They hung in the air; frozen. The woman had frozen too. Completely immobile. Sarah Jane was baffled. It was like time itself had ground to a halt save for her. She was about to wave in front of the woman's face when a sinister, rasping voice rang out.

"Sarah Jane Smith."

She spun around, and found herself looking at what could only be described as a monster, or a demon or some other such term for a dark being. It was taller than any human; and it wore a long black cloak, worn over its head as a hood. She could still see what passed for its face though: it had no nose, there were simply pits were the eyes should have been and thin lips were stretched over a mouth full of sharp fangs.

"What are you?" Sarah Jane asked. She was afraid, but her voice remained steady.

The monster chuckled. "I am a monument to your destruction. I am the embodiment of chaos and anarchy and discord. I am entropy made flesh." He paused. "I am the Trickster."

She understood. "That time-snake thing, It's your servant, isn't it?"

The Trickster laughed. "A pawn in the greater scheme of things, but yes. It is mine. And I cannot allow you to prevent its goal, no matter how you came to be here."

She frowned. She had guessed he was clairvoyant or something. "You mean you don't know?"

"It is of no consequence." The thing said dismissively. "You shall die regardless."

The Trickster raised its hand with deadly intent; the index finger was a sliver claw. Electrical arcs began to twist and turn around it, building up in preparation for a killer blast. Then, a wheezing, groan began to permeate the air in rhythm. The TARDIS was materialising around the Trickster. It faded in and out a dozen times before manifesting fully. The Doctor's voice echoed out from within the time machine: "Hurry Sarah! I can only keep him here for so long!"

She didn't need to be told twice. She ran down the corridor, hoping luck would happen upon her and she would find herself. That sounded so weird in her head. She ran down three different corridors; everyone she saw was similarly frozen.

She turned left, up a flight of stairs. She came out on the second floor. And there she was.

A younger Sarah Jane stood motionless in the hall, frozen mid-stride. Her hair was shorter than it was now, more business-like. The clothes were practical, and moderately formal. She looked good when she was younger. She could've been a waxwork.

Slowly, Sarah Jane approached. The alternate, younger one was motionless, staring ahead intently. She had a place to be with a purpose. The older one walked around her in a circle, fascinated, stopping when they were face to face. After all, how often does one encounter this situation? She remembered what she had to do.

Slowly, hands trembling, she reached out. She poked a single finger at her forehead.

Then there was light.

LONDON, 19: 13 pm

Rani watched as the time-snake shuddered; a shrieking noise filled the air and the snake uncoiled from around Sarah Jane's neck. Sparks flew from pretty much everything electrical with the exception of Mr Smith. Rani couldn't help but cheer and call out Sarah Jane's name. Slowly, she stirred and sat up rubbing her temple. She looked around the room.

"What've you done to my attic?"

An hour or so later, the two and Mark – who had be made to clear up his "junk" – were discussing the events that had transpired. The texar exjim, had died after leaving Sarah Jane; the body had simply turned to dust when they tried to move it.

"So what can you remember then?" Mark asked curiously.

"Not a lot." Sarah Jane admitted. "Feels a lot like a dream."

"You mentioned the Doctor had been there." Rani pointed out.

Mark had the answer for that. "The timeline was based on Sarah Jane. Since the Doctor was such a big part of her life, a version of him manifested. Simple enough."

"You'd think the Trickster would've considered that."

"Maybe he didn't know how the time-snake worked." Rani suggested.

"Maybe." Sarah Jane agreed. She sighed. "There's just something though. Something that keeps bugging me. A word."

"What word?" Mark asked.

"Sky." Sarah Jane told him. "For some reason, that word is just stuck in my head. There was a letter in the other timeline with just that one word on it. What does it mean?"

Mark shrugged. "Haven't the foggiest."

"Whatever it is." Sarah Jane said. "I'm sure it will reveal itself in time."

Then she stood up. "Now, you two go. Rani's parents will be worried and I don't know about you, but being in a dream world isn't quite as refreshing as good old-fashioned beauty sleep."

A/N: Good? Bad? Too time-wimey or not enough? I don't think there was enough turmoil in Sarah Jane but oh well. There's always rewrites.

Read and review. Peace out.