Sarah Jane Smith sits before the vanity in the room with a sigh, and realizes for a moment that if anyone had told her two years ago that she'd be marrying Harry Sullivan, she would've thought they were mad. Yet here she sits, and adjusts her mother's veil on her head, picking out one last bit of dust left from the box it was stored in, deep in her aunt's attic.
She plays with her hair idly, cut short like it had been back when she'd been hanging around UNIT, something she'd done recently because she liked how it had looked. And, too short to really do anything with, she's left it alone, only giving it a thorough wash the night before and pinning the veil's comb in. She smooths her gown with shaking hands and runs through the rhyme in her head.
It's a sort of checklist, and so far, she's got almost everything she needs–something old: the veil, something new: the dress, a simple and pretty piece, and something borrowed: a beautiful bouquet made from the roses, lilies, and wildflowers in her aunt Lavinia's back garden.
The only thing she doesn't have is something blue, and she closes her eyes, clasping her hands, and wishes very hard that the something blue is a bright blue police box at her wedding.
- - -
The church is settled in a little area just out of town, in that gorgeous landscape that's almost the country, but still close to the bustle and shops and the city. Harry finds himself pacing around the gardens, giving himself a pep talk and telling himself that it's just Sarah, and there isn't anything to be worried about.
So why does he feel like he's messed up already? He frowns and contemplates this, running a hand through his hair and heading back towards the chapel.
“Nothing to worry about,” he promises himself. “Going to go just fine. It's only Sarah, and that's what you want, isn't it?”
This makes him smile, and he steps into one of the side rooms to check his tie in the mirror, and look himself over once more. Then the phone rings and he steps out into the hall to answer, wondering who on Earth would call fifteen minutes before his wedding, because the church is booked for the morning, anyhow.
“Harry! Heard you were getting married today, and I thought I'd pop by and say hello!”
And the voice of the Doctor is so clear over the phone, as if Harry had only stayed behind just yesterday, that he's shocked into silence.
“Sullivan! Are you still there?”
“I'm still here,” he answers quickly, and laughs. “It's been forever! Where have you been?”
“Here, there, a bit of a lot of places, actually. How's Sarah Jane? Nervous? Probably. Well, I thought I'd go on and stop by to see the turnout, couldn't leave you two all alone, could I?”
Really, though, he can't find it in his heart to object.
“Well, there's ten minutes before I'm at the altar, so you've got a rather nice time frame. Think you can make it?”
- - -
Sarah Jane stands before the full-length mirror again, her aunt peering over her shoulder.
“What if I...I don't know, mess up? Trip? Say the wrong thing?”
“He'll love you anyways,” Lavinia tells her niece with a smile. “Don't know why you're so frantic. He's a nice boy, and you'll be in good hands. Come on, let's take a walk. It'll calm your nerves, if anything.”
She leaves the bouquet on the dressing table and steps out into the hall, just as Harry gets off of the phone a few feet to her left, and she sighs to herself, smirking as he looks up and turns to see her, accidentally.
“I thought it was bad luck to look at the bride before the wedding,” she scolds him lightly. “Looks like you blew it already.”
He shakes his head, taking her hands in his. “Sarah, we've got all of the luck in the world right now. You'll never guess who I was on the phone with.”
She doesn't get it, confused as her aunt comes to her side.
“Well, we've got ourselves a very important visitor, by the looks of it, because–”
Sarah Jane doesn't hear a word he's saying when the familiar whooshing and wheezing reaches her ears through the two open windows in the chapel's front lobby. She looks at Harry for only a moment, and when he nods, she gathers the skirts of her dress in her arms and goes sprinting out to the front lawn and through the gardens, kicking her heels off halfway to the TARDIS.
The Doctor's just stepping out of the police box when she throws herself into his arms, burying her head there in his scarf, beating on his chest with her fists and sobbing.
“I thought you weren't coming back,” she cries. “You didn't say anything after you left me, you...you bastard, and I...I...”
“Sarah Jane,” he laughs, and wipes her tears off gently. “It's alright. I'm here now. You're getting married, my God, isn't that fun?”
She sniffles, dabbing at her eyes with her hands and hoping her makeup isn't ruined. “You came back.”
“I'll always come back for you, Sarah.”
She's missed that goofy, stupid grin, and hugs him again.
He walks her back through the flowers and hedges, stopping to help her with her shoes before checking the watch on his wrist (not an Earthen one, either, because it has five multi-colored dials that make Sarah Jane's head spin just looking at them) for a moment.
“Now come on, you've got an idiot to marry,” he informs her, making her laugh. “And you're on in two minutes, Miss Smith.”
“That's Mrs. Sullivan to you,” she corrects, sticking her tongue out at him. “Or, I will be, soon. Gotta get my flowers, first.”
He follows her back to the dressing room to grab the bouquet again, and stops before the doors, pausing to hold his arm out to escort her.
“Mind if I walk you down the aisle?”
She nods, perching her arm on his. “Of course you may.”
And Sarah Jane can see some of the people staring when the Time Lord walks her down the aisle, her aunt watching her with a grin, and Harry looking all too pleased at the arrangement.
The Doctor gladly gives her away, sliding into the ceremony as if it wasn't a problem (though the pastor is rather confused). When he's said his part, he steps back and then whispers to the pair of them.
“Goodbye, Sarah Jane,” he tells her, squeezing her hand with a grin. “And Harry, you take care of her for me, alright?”
“I will, Doctor,” Harry promises.
“'Course you will. I won't be here, but you two make the most of what you've got–each other. That's the most important thing in the world. Take care of each other, and love each other. I know you will.”
The ceremony is rather quick, she thinks, and Sarah Jane is disappointed when the Doctor isn't there, having up and left, apparently, after giving her away. He's gone for good, she thinks, and wishes she could've had a little more time with him. Her suitcase is already packed for their honeymoon–nothing very important, she knows, just a little place out in the quiet countryside–and she adjusts her more modest outfit, taking a quick glance out of the wide picture window at the end of the hall.
She does a double-take because the TARDIS is still there, and when Harry comes looking for her, she points outside, and–bags in hand–they both go to check on the police box, to see just what's up. Sarah knocks three times on the wooden doors, and the Doctor swings both open with a wide bow, gesturing to the inside of the machine.
“I don't know exactly what you two had planned for a getaway, but I'm sure that you'd be happy to replace the trip with a visit to a nice little planet in the fifth Argonian structure if you'd like–”
“Of course!” Sarah Jane grins, like it's even a question as to whether she'd like to go.
“If she's up for it, I'm up for it,” Harry agrees, and the Doctor takes their bags, gesturing with a flourish back inside.
“Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan.”
Harry picks her up and carries her into the TARDIS, the Doctor closing the doors behind all three of them.
And suddenly, Sarah Jane realizes that she's borrowed her aunt's flowers, but the Doctor has also borrowed them.
She smiles, and secretly, she hopes that there will be the regular aliens, running, and chasing. After all, what a story she'll get to tell when they get back!