The Doctor was perusing one of the many screens aboard the TARDIS, a grave expression on his face. They were hurtling through space, destination as yet unknown. And the Doctor hated unknowns.
"Rose, didn't you once tell me your mother had an uncle who fought in World War II?"
"Well, yeah. Great-uncle. Used to tell 'er all manner of rubbish when she was little, about how he and his mates won the war. But suddenly, this one day he stopped talking about anything at all. Never spoke another word. The old man died when she was about ten I think. He was a right mad old hatter, she allus said…" Rose was curious. "Why do you ask?"
The Doctor turned and regarded her carefully. "No, Rose. He wasn't mad. Not at all. And he did help to win the war. In fact, if it weren't for your uncle and his friends, the Allies would have lost the war. And I think I know exactly where, and when, we are going…although—this could get a bit awkward for you."
As the Doctor tipped his head and stared intently at her, Rose had the sudden feeling she was being dissected inch by inch, and she did not like it one bit.
"'ang on, what are you talking about? What do you mean 'awkward?' Why?" As usual, Rose was full of questions, and as usual, the Doctor strode away and answered none of them, as he busied himself in the wardrobe room.
She heard him muttering to himself as she followed him, her curiosity now so intense it was practically a living being itself. She also knew he would never talk to her now. She would have to wait. Rose contented herself for the moment by watching him sort quickly through the clothing and pull various items out, discarding some and piling others next to him. His mumbling had reached a fevered pitch during this activity.
"No. No. No…well, maybe. Yes, that may work. No. No. Ah, yes. That might be just the ticket…" He suddenly turned and regarded her even more closely. "Hair has to go."
He said this so decisively, Rose was shocked and suddenly very angry. She touched her silky light blonde hair, and flared at him. "Cut my hair? I don't barkin' think so, you sod!"
She started to turn away and tripped over a pair of combat boots, which lay on the floor among the heap of clothing. When she turned to get up, as always, The Doctor was right there, offering his hand. He also looked terribly contrite. "I'm sorry, Rose. I got carried away. Should've explained things better."
She took his offered hand, but still watched him warily. "How d'ya mean?"
"I wouldn't be a problem, obviously, but you…you would be a huge problem."
"And why is that, exactly?" She was beginning to recover her saucy nature.
The Doctor threw her a sudden grin. "They don't allow women in World War II German P.O.W. camps, do they? And since we cannot change their already precarious history, posing as underground agents is out. We have no information we can share with them. Posing as prisoners is the most expedient way to do what we came for."
Rose was becoming impatient. "And what, exactly, did we come for?"
"We are here to save your great-uncle's life. Apparently, he and one other team member die tonight. Your uncle was not supposed to die tonight."
"What about the other man? Can't we help him?"
The Doctor frowned at her. "Rose, you know we cannot alter events that are supposed to happen. You should know that now, better than ever. Look what happened with your father!"
Rose nodded, but there were tears in her eyes. She hated the thought of having to watch anyone else die…and if this man was a friend of her uncle's…
Suddenly, a thought came to her. "Wait, I remember mum telling me a story about one of Uncle's mates. They had been on a mission…and he disappeared. Not died…disappeared. Uncle could never explain what happened, and they never found him. He said the team covered it up by claiming he had died in the woods…shot by a stray bullet while trying to escape, or something. But they never knew what happened to him…it was like—" her eyes went wide.
The doctor nodded and finished her sentence along with her, "—he had stepped into a black hole or something!" He stepped over to the computer screen and began searching madly. A few moments later he stepped back, smiling in triumph.
"Not sure how I missed it, actually. Time even plays tricks on me, I suppose. Still…you'd think I'd remember, but…" he tapped his head and shrugged.
"What? What is it?"
"I nearly bolloxed the whole thing up. We aren't here to infiltrate the camp. We're here to keep your uncle from dying, yes. And we're here…to set something right. Something that was messed up a long time ago…"
"How do you mean?"
"The disturbance in time? Not your uncle's dying tonight, although that needs fixing as well…that was unintentional. No, the disturbance is actually a call for help…from a man needing a ride."
And then there was no more time for talk as the TARDIS landed…wherever they were.
~HH/DW~
Where they were turned out to be a moon-lit field bordered on three sides by dense woods. TARDIS was hidden amongst these woods. The fourth side faced a river. And on the bank of the river crouched two men, both wearing black clothing and black watch caps. One man, the taller of the two, leaned over and whispered something to the other, who tipped his head in confusion, but flattened himself into the low brush by the riverbank.
The tall man stealthily began to work his way from the bank towards the woods…straight towards them. Rose began to panic, until The Doctor laid a calming hand on her arm. "It's alright. This is the man I was telling you about."
As the man drew closer, Rose was taken aback. He was quite possibly one of the most handsome black men she had ever seen. His face was solemn now, but she could imagine his smile must be devastating. He stepped up to them, and when he shook The Doctor's hand, he did smile. A smile that lit up his whole face. And, as Rose had thought, it was devastating. However, his next words shocked the daylights out of her, so that she nearly forgot to breathe.
"Hello, Doctor. I am James Kinchloe. I doubt you'd remember me. I must admit, I am not at my best at the moment. But I am very happy to see you. I have been ready to get back home for a long time." He held up a small electronic device. "Finally got this baby working. Wasn't sure I ever would." He chuckled as he looked The Doctor over more carefully. "You look pretty good for an old man. So, how's the new face working out for you?" The Doctor and Rose both stared at him.
Just as The Doctor opened his mouth to fire off a retort, shots rang out across the meadow. They whirled around to find that the other man on the bank was exchanging fire with an unseen enemy. They saw him crumple and Kinchloe cried out, "Newkirk!"
The gore was awful. They could see that much from where they were hidden.
Kinchloe would have run to his friend, but The Doctor stopped him. Rose stood in shock, and instinctively, The Doctor pushed Kinchloe and Rose into each other's arms. They stood there, grieving.
The doctor put his hand on Kinchloe's shoulder, as the other man sobbed out, "I could have done something!"
"You can't. I can."
~HH/DW~
Peter Newkirk found himself laying on the bank of the river. He awoke slowly, feeling as if he had been run through a ringer. It was dawn. His uniform cover lay on the ground next to him. He sat up. Blimey, they were late! What the hell had happened? He looked around, but Kinch was nowhere in sight. He shook his head. Where was he? Just a moment ago, they had been watching the river…looking for a signal from a downed pilot. The man hadn't shown up and they were about to pack it in, when suddenly Kinch had smiled at him and said—what? "Finally, my ride is here! See you around, my friend." And now he was gone. Peter searched the area quickly, but in his heart, he knew. He didn't understand it, but he knew.
Kinch was gone. And there were no tire tracks…nothing. No signs there had even been a patrol…no tracks, other than their own, here by the bank. He backtracked Kinch, whose tracks ended a short distance into the dense woods. He shook his head. What would he tell Col. Hogan? What could he tell him? He picked up his watch cap. That was when his finger slipped through a hole in the side—a large caliber bullet hole. And not a drop of blood anywhere. As he stood there, fingering the hole, he knew somehow, he would never see his mate again. It was enough to make a sane man crazy…It was fortunate he was not quite sane. He shook his head, and looked into the brightening sky as he began the hike back to the Stalag.
Aloud he said, "Ta, mate…wherever you are."
~The End~