Word Count: 3098
Author's Summary: Sarah Jane Smith comes home.
Characters/Pairings: Sarah Jane Smith/Sergeant Benton/Harry Sullivan
Recced because: This story was written for me, so it should be no surprise to anyone that I'm reccing it. But the truth is, even if it hadn't been written for me this would still be one of my top five favorite Who stories EVER. It's got everything I could possibly want. Hope and love and companions realistically dealing with the aftermath of their time with the Doctor. It also has one of the greatest Brig cameos in the history of fanfic. I love this story so much it's ridiculous.
They help her excavate the house further — she hasn't given it a second thought since clearing enough room to sleep, shower, and set up her typewriter. Harry accidentally takes down half the wallpaper in the dining room while trying to get a particularly ugly velvet painting off the wall, and Benton promises to finish the job later, and buy some paint, while he's at it. They all laugh; they've all had quite a bit of wine.
"It's a lovely house," Sarah says, picking up a particularly hideous cat figurine.
"Here, I'll toss that one," Harry says, reaching out his hand. Sarah's hand closes over it protectively.
"We can't just throw these all out." She feels incredibly emotional, all of a sudden, and determined to prove her point. "This was — this was a woman's life, and there's no one left to remember her if we do. Can't you see that?"
"Yes," Benton says, and there's something so sad in his eyes Sarah feels the threat of tears coming on.
"You don't need things to make a life though, Sarah," Harry says softly. "Surely you know that."
"I don't know anything," she says, and the tears do come this time, running down her face while the boys look on helplessly. "He left me," she continues, "and what am I now?"
Harry looks startled. "You're Sarah Jane Smith," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world; as if that explains everything.
"But who is that?" Sarah presses, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"I don't know exactly," he replies, "but I hope I can find out." Beside him, Benton nods, and Sarah feels something funny growing inside her; it feels a little bit like hope.