Chapter Text
The extraordinary day began in an entirely ordinary way. Wilfred Mott got up, got dressed, and served himself breakfast as he usually did. His granddaughter joined him before long as she usually did.
Donna sat with a quiet groan.
“Back?” Wilf asked sympathetically.
“Yeah, that desk chair is murder,” she groused.
Wifred laughed. “Risk of any job, darling! My knees are none too happy with me these days.” He took a big bite of toast.
Her smile died. She idly stirred her tea.
He eyed her with concern.
When she noticed the look, Donna tried to force a smile, but it died too quickly. “...I’m just sorry, Gramps. That—that you had to go back to work.”
“Oh, no, I’m just glad to be able to help—”
She stopped him by putting her hand over his. “No...I’m sorry. By now I’d hoped—well, I’d hoped I’d have a proper job. Made you comfy. I’m just useless.”
“Don’t do that, sweetheart. It’s not your fault. Your dad...no one could have known he’d be let go, especially not you.” Her grandfather set down his toast and covered her hand with his other one. “And it’s not so bad, having a job to go to at my age. Keeps me young!”
Donna rolled her eyes, but her grandfather continued despite her clear disbelief.
“I’m just glad to be able to help your mum and dad. Didn’t expect they’d want a fossil like me anyway.”
“Course they would. They’re lucky to have you,” she firmly told him. Wilf grinned.
When Sylvia Noble arrived in the kitchen, and the frank conversation between grandfather and granddaughter died as it usually did.
Wilfred Mott whistled cheerily as his fellow employees at Henrik’s Department Store filed out the front doors. At least, until the security guard pointedly shook the bag of lottery money in the face of one of his favourite young coworkers.
“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” Wilf said immediately. “I’ve got it. You go ahead and get home.”
“Really? You sure?” Rose Tyler’s eyes lit up.
“Of course! Go on, have your dinner. I’ll take it down to Wilson.”
She beamed and handed it over, dashing out the doors after the rest of the staff.
Wilf frowned at the guard. “You could stand to be a bit more polite there, son.”
He flushed and straightened up. “Er—yes. Sorry, sir.”
“Run!”
Wilf tried his best to comply with the command of the strange man he didn’t yet know.
“Can’t you run any faster?” the Doctor asked, somehow not out of breath.
“My knees,” Wilf wheezed. “Not as—young—as I once was—”
The Doctor’s sigh carried an implied eye roll, but he still turned to knock back the speediest Autons.
“In here!” he shouted. Wilf held the ‘doors open’ button, and the Doctor made it into the lift just in time with a loose plastic arm in hand.
He eyed the arm dubiously. “What was all that about, son?”
“Oh, nothing important,” the Doctor said breezily. He tossed the arm at Wilf, who barely managed to catch it. “Just an invasion. Nothing to get into a lather over.”
“Invasion?” Wilf squeaked, eyes wide.
“Yep! Don’t worry about it. Go home, have your beans on toast—forget about all this. Leave it to me to save you lot.”
The old man stared for a moment longer before asking one of his many questions. “...Is Wilson alright?”
“Who’s he?”
“Chief electrician. Supposed to be down there—?” Wilf stopped talking with the sudden understanding of a soldier.
“He’s dead.” The Doctor’s tone was entirely solemn for the first time since he’d startled the old man. Wilf just nodded.
The doors of the lift opened.
“Go on—run for your life. Now!” The Doctor put his hand over the doors to hold it open for him to leave. “And quickly!”
Wilf stopped halfway out of the lift and looked him directly in the eye. “Who are you?”
The Time Lord’s grin was hollow. “The Doctor. And you are?”
“Wilfred Mott.”
He looked at the Doctor for a long moment before he saluting as he stepped off the lift.
“None of that!” The Doctor’s horror was unfeigned. “And hurry! I’ll give you all the time I can for your knees!”
The lift doors shut.
Wilf ran as fast as he could.
At last he settled into his camp chair with a groan.
“Gramps!”
“Huh?” He started and made to stand.
“What’s all this Mum’s saying about your job blowing up?” Donna asked. She dropped onto the blanket he’d spread over the grass.
“You must’ve heard about it on the radio at least. Your mum said she heard the explosion from the sitting room!”
“I was in the cinema.”
Wilf chuckled. “And here’s another one you’ve missed.” He quickly explained the mysterious events of the afternoon, ending on a sigh. “...I can’t help thinking of poor Wilson, though...”
“Thank god you’re alright! Don’t know what I’d do without you!” Donna clutched his hand in hers.
“Can’t stop thinking about that man who told me to run, too. He said something about an invasion, of all things...”
“Oh, no,” she groaned. “You’re not starting to go a little…” Donna gestured around her ear.
“Not a chance!” He swatted at her shoulder. “Called himself a doctor.”
“A doctor, you say...” Donna mused. “...Well, he’s got good judgement letting you out of there before blowing up the place. What’d he look like?”
“Oh, ho!” Wilf grinned at her. “Now that I’ve said he’s a doctor you’re interested!”
“Oh, come on,” she huffed. “Seriously! Aren’t the police gonna want to know?”
“Oh, come off it! Sylvia was threatening to phone them tonight, but I talked her out of it.” He sighed, and then gave in. “...He was a Northern fellow. Dark hair, rather large ears. Wore a leather jacket.”
“Funny sort of doctor,” Donna said slowly. “Though I suppose they must wear regular clothes when they’re not at work...”
The pair lapsed into thoughtful silence.
“...What’s that arm for?” She nudged the plastic limb on the ground with her shoe.
“Oh, right—that doctor man tossed it my way in the lift. I carried it all the way home without thinking, then your blessed mother demanded I get it off her sofa,” he laughed.
“If you want it as a souvenir you’ll have to keep it in the shed, or Mum’s sure to bin it.”
Wilfred Mott got up, got dressed, and served himself breakfast as he usually did. His granddaughter joined him before long as she usually did.
“Morning! Can’t get out of the habit of getting up early, even if my job’s been blown up.” Wilf got up and shuffled to the teapot. “Got time for a cuppa?”
“Always, for you.” Donna welcomed the tea once Wilf prepared it for her.
Geoff waved a distracted hello as he entered and poured himself some tea as well. Soon Sylvia bustled into the kitchen, too. “You’re going to be late, Donna. You’d better get a move on!”
“Took the day off, actually. Don’t want to leave Gramps alone all—”
“Really, Donna?” The disappointment in her mother’s voice was obvious to all present. Sylvia sighed heavily as she poured black tea into her travel cup. “They’ll never keep you after the contract ends if you’re not dependable...”
“Then they won’t keep me. That’s fine.” Donna’s statement was stiff and clipped.
“Very well, madam.” Sylvia bent to press a dry kiss to her father’s cheek before hurrying out of the house.
“I’m off too—have a good day, sweetheart,” Geoff said quietly. He touched Wilf’s shoulder and kissed Donna’s forehead. “Don’t take your mum too much to heart, alright? She’s just worried.”
Donna rolled her eyes. “She must be worried all day, every day, then.”
Geoff failed to stifle a chuckle on his way out the door.
“Ah! It’s you!”
The Doctor looked up from breaking into the shed with a start. “Oh! It’s you!” he exclaimed.
“What’re you doing to my shed?” Wilf asked.
“Oh. Well...” the Time Lord drew out the last word as he dropped the open padlock on the ground guiltily. “...Little bit of...jiggery-pokery.”
“But why—?” .
Wilf was interrupted by the Auton arm attacking the Doctor. With a great deal of effort the arm was redirected to attack Wilf instead, and then entirely disabled by the Doctor’s sonic.
“What is that thing?” he gasped as he recovered his breath.
“Just an arm, now. Armless.” The Doctor used his screwdriver to scan the elderly man. “You’re fine, by the way—just take it easy. And take some vitamin D, yours is low.” He helped Wilf to his feet.
“And what’s that thing?” Wilf asked, indicating the sonic screwdriver.
“Oh, nothing important.” The Doctor pocketed it. “Bye!” He walked off without further ado.
“Oi!” The old man hobbled after him as quickly as he could. “Hang on!”
“Sorry, can’t. People to see, places to go—well, I say people...” The Doctor’s words faded into an indistinct mutter as he reached the pavement beside the street.
“You can’t just break into my shed and wander off!”
“Really? And yet here I am, wandering off. Ta-ra!”
Wilf lunged forward and seized his leather sleeve.
The Doctor sighed. “What now?”
“‘What now?’” He stared at him disbelievingly. “That’s my question! You said something about an invasion—who’s invading? What are these plastic people? Are more of them coming? Who are you? Doctor who?”
The Doctor looked him in the eye properly for the first time in the conversation. “You don’t need to get involved. It’s dangerous, knowing what I know.”
Wilfred shivered involuntarily. “You’ve been in the wars, haven’t you, son.” It wasn’t a question.
The Doctor flinched. “Go home. Keep yourself and your family safe.” He jerked his sleeve out of Wilf’s grip and strode forward, not looking back.
Wilf watched him enter an old-fashioned police box. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates when it began to wheeze and faded away before his eyes.
“Search ‘doctor’ and ‘police box—’”
“I’m doing it!” Donna sounded more exasperated than she truly was as she typed into the search box. “...What’s a police box, anyway?” she added after a beat.
“It’s an old—ooh, click that one.” Wilf pointed at a likely result.
“I’m doing it,” she sighed.
“That’s—that’s him!” he exclaimed. He pointed to an image of the man he’d met.
“Hm.” Donna examined the image minutely. “Eh. Could do worse.”
“If the Doctor's back...if you've seen him, Mr. Mott...then one thing's for certain: we're all in danger. If he's singled you out...if the Doctor's making house calls...then God help you.”
Donna eyed Clive dubiously. “Bit dramatic, isn’t it? He’s not a murderer...” She paused for a moment. “...Is he?”
“But who do you think he is?” Wilf interrupted. “Or—who they are?”
“I think they’re all the same man. I think he's immortal. I think he's an alien from another world.”
Donna rolled her eyes while her grandfather’s eyes sparkled. “...I’ll just go get the car,” she sighed.
Most beings don’t expect to be eaten by a bin, and Donna Noble was no exception.
“So where did you meet this Doctor?”
Wilf stared at what he thought was his granddaughter uncomprehendingly.
The Doctor didn’t bother to preface his champagne cork attack with a one-liner.
“What, nothing to say about its relative size?” the Doctor asked rhetorically inside the TARDIS. After a moment, he asked less rhetorically, “You alright?”
“No.” Wilf hadn’t stopped trembling since his Donna’s head had been twisted off. “Is—is she dead?”
“Oh.” He stopped hitting buttons on the console. “Hadn’t thought of that.”
“What?” Wilf roared. The Doctor almost leapt ten feet in the air.
“Hang on! Let me think a moment—”
“She’s my granddaughter—”
“Listen! Listen—” The Doctor abandoned the console altogether and approached Wilf. “She’s probably fine. The Nestene Consciou—the plastic people—they’d need her alive to make a copy that detailed.”
“She’s—?”
The Doctor smiled and squeezed his hand. “She’s alive.”
Wilf’s eyes wandered behind him. “But...she’s melting!”
The Time Lord dove for the controls with an unbecoming yelp.
Donna was mid-lecture at top volume about kidnapping when the Doctor and Wilf entered the Nestene Consciousness’ lair.
“Donna!”
“—By force without their consent—Gramps!” Wilf rushed to make sure she was alright, ignoring the Doctor’s debate with the pool of animated goo. “A bin ate me!”
Wilf stared. “What?”
“Plastic, right?” the Doctor asked. Donna gave a start on noticing his presence.
“Yes!” she said, and gave him a hard look. “The famous Doctor, I presume?”
“The one and only.” He managed a grin before the goo shouted at him again.
“Learn anything else about him?” Donna muttered to her grandfather.
“He’s an alien! A real alien! That police box is a spaceship—oh, and the goo monster can animate all plastics.” Wilf rattled off these startling revelations with minimal fanfare. Then it was Donna’s turn to stare.
“...I couldn’t save any of them!” The Doctor was suddenly passionately shouting, and then all hell broke loose.
Donna didn’t think for more than a moment before kicking out at a nearby Auton’s knee. It was pure chance it was carrying the vial of anti-plastic the Doctor had brought, and that it fell directly into the pool of goo.
“You actually thought asking them nicely would work?” Donna’s question was strangely conversational after all the shouting she’d done that day.
“I...I had to give them a chance.”
“Hmm.” She eyed him up and down without further comment.
The Doctor shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “...So.” He began after a long moment. “Er. Thanks, I s’pose.”
“You’re welcome.” Donna said flatly.
“Yeah.”
None of them seemed to know how to break that silence.
“...I’ll be off, then. Unless—?” The Doctor paused and glanced at Wilf. “You want to come with me?”
“Yes!”
He blinked. “...You're sure?” the Doctor asked.
“Yes!” The old man was beaming from ear to ear. “Er—well, that is..." Wilf turned to Donna. “Will you be alright, darling?”
Donna pooh-poohed his concern. “I’ll be fine, Gramps. You take this opportunity—how many chances are you going to have to go to space?”
The Doctor cleared his throat. “Well. You could—join us. If you wanted.”
Donna’s eyes widened. “What?”
He just looked at her.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t. Not—it’s—” She flapped her hand in the direction of him, then the TARDIS, and finally herself. “I couldn’t,” Donna repeated.
“Okay. See you around, then.” The Doctor said. He turned to his ship.
“Hang on a minute!” Donna barked, and he froze in his tracks. “Let me just say goodbye, you bleedin’ Martian.”
The Doctor grumbled about his planet of origin decidedly not being Mars as Donna pulled Wilf into a hug.
“And don’t go for too long,” she ordered.
“I won’t,” Wilf started to say, when the Doctor interrupted.
“It’ll be fine—the TARDIS can also travel through time.”
“Oh, good, you can get lost in time too,” Donna sighed, and Wilf chuckled.
“I’ll be back by curfew,” he told her dryly.
“Don’t bother. I’ll just tell Mum you’re staying late at Winston’s.” Donna kissed his cheek one last time and prodded him in the Doctor’s direction. “Now get out there and see the stars for me!”
Wilf saluted his granddaughter and gleefully boarded the TARDIS.