Disclaimer: I don’t own Doctor Who or anything to do with it, it belongs to the BBC.

The Doctor is puzzled by a crimson flower he found lying on his bed. Four/Sarah.

Amaranths and Roses

The Doctor sat on a chair in the kitchen; his elbows were propped on the table before him and he studied the beautiful red flower in his hand. If someone were to be telling him something, they might as well have said it instead of dropping little clues for him to solve. But no one could have gotten into his bedroom that night, or any night, because he locks it up.

He then wondered if Sarah had anything to do with this.

“Sarah.” The Doctor called from the kitchen. His blue eyes never removing themselves from the flower.

Sarah walked in, yawned a little, covering her hand over her mouth and then saying her usual good mornings to the Doctor. The Doctor showed her the crimson burning flower and then raising one of his eyebrows. “Sarah, do you have anything to do with this?” He asked.

The young journalist shook her head. “Where did you find it?”

“On my bed,” He said. “I woke up this morning and I found it lying over my chest. I was just wondering if you had anything to do with it.”

“You know I don’t go into your room without permission, Doctor. You told me that before.” She answered back, her tone was sleepy. “Do you have any other ideas on how it got there?”

“No,” The Doctor murmured and placed the flora down on the table. “But first, I think a cup of coffee would definitely be in order. Do you want one?”

Sarah nodded. “Half a sugar for me, thank you.” Her eyes were then attracted by the flower, she liked it. She picked it up from the table to examine it herself. Sarah ran the tips of her fingers over the pedals; they were soft, and so delicate. “It’s an amaranth.” Sarah said.

“Pardon?”

“I said, it’s an amaranth,” Sarah repeated. “It means never-ending, or, one that does not wither.”

“Really?” The Doctor raised his brow.

Sarah nodded. “My aunt likes flowers, especially amaranths.” Sarah paused for a moment. “Sounds like someone is saying you’re an amaranth?”

“I don’t think so?” The Doctor came back with two cups of coffee, he handed one to Sarah Jane. “Why would they do that?”

“Thank you,” She said and then sipped on it a little. “But it’s just a guess, and there’s no harm in guessing.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“But the amaranth does mean never-ending, and that’s just basically what you are, never-ending, or never-fading.” Sarah explained while drinking down her coffee.

The Doctor chuckled and drank down his coffee. “Who would go through all that trouble to just give me a flower? They might as well have said something instead of hiding.”

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. The Doctor sat his coffee cup back down on the table. “If you were to compare yourself to a flower, Sarah; which type one would it be?”

“Ohh... I’d say a rose.” Sarah smiled.

“Why that one?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“I just like roses.” Sarah said. The Doctor licked his lips. “They’re beautiful, have a lovely scent and they’re a favourite by all.”

“Reminds me of a comparison I once heard. Aesop compared the amaranth to the rose; two very beautiful flowers, but one will eventually die, while the other lives on for eternity.” He smirked. “Just like comparing Time-Lords to humans, really.”

“It makes sense,” Sarah got up from her chair. “I’m going to get a shower, I’ll be back soon.” Sarah walked out and left the Time-Lord to look at the flower once more. I hope he appreciates the little present. Sarah told herself hopefully. They’re such rare flowers to find, it’ll be a shame if he tosses itaside.

The Doctor placed the flower inside his pocket and smiled. I know you gave this to me, Sarah. Don’t think that I don’t know that. He then left the kitchen. And now, to have a serious talk with the TARDIS.

A Rose and an Amaranth blossomed side by side in a garden,

And the Amaranth said to her neighbour,

“How I envy you your beauty and your sweet scent!

No wonder you are such a universal favourite.”

But the Rose replied with a shade of sadness in her voice,

“Ah, my dear friend, I bloom but for a time:

My petals soon wither and fall, and then I die.

But your flowers never fade, even if they are cut;

For they are everlasting.”

Aesop's Fables