My name is Eugene Wilfred Temple-Noble. People generally just call me Gene. I'm nothing special. I live in Chiswick, a few blocks away from my parents. I work as an accountant for a large agency that sells machine parts. Dad always said that I inherited my talent with numbers from my mom, along with my attitude and green eyes. I've often been told that I'm just like her, just a bit quieter about it. Mom doesn't think I'm just like her. She always says that I'm too much like Dad. I don't think she really wants me to be like her—despite all her bravado, I don't think she likes herself all that much.
Most of the time, Mom is loud, blunt, and bossy. She doesn't care what's happening in the world outside of her own life. She's always been like that, as long as I can remember. At least, most of the time. There have been a few times throughout my life that I've seen something different in her. She'll get really quiet and just sort of stare off into space, as though she can see something that no one else can, something that's not there anymore. Once I went up to her and tugged on her sleeve. She turned to me and it seemed as though she wasn't really seeing me. It was as though she thought I was someone else.
"I thought I was going to be with you forever. The Doctor and Donna in the TARDIS. Traveling…" She trailed off and her eyes suddenly focused and she snapped back to reality. When she saw me she smiled and said, "Oh, must have zoned out there for a moment! Go get ready for supper, Gene!" When I asked her what a TARDIS was, and mentioned that she had just said it, she told me to quit being ridiculous and set the table.
For some reason, her words wouldn't leave me alone. I asked Dad about them and he told me that I must have misheard her, or perhaps even imagined it. I knew I didn't. When I asked Grandma about it—I wasn't able to just let it go—she froze and stared at me for a moment. After that, she just turned back to the dishes and told me to finish my homework. Finally, I decided to ask Great-Grandpa Wilf.
His reaction was a bit different from everyone else that I had asked. He didn't ignore me or brush me off or tell me to finish my chores. When I asked him, he looked shocked for a second before looking around and pressing a finger to his lips as though afraid that someone might be listening. He beckoned me closer until he could whisper in my ear. So quietly I could barely hear him, he said,
"Watch for the man with the big blue box. He'll be coming back someday, I just know it. He always does." He wouldn't say any more than that, and after a while of puzzling over his words, I put them off on his old age. I never thought they would really hold any meaning.
Of course, I was wrong.