a Matter of Life and Death
My take on The Cafe scene, from the final episode 'The End of Time' written from the Tenth Doctor's point of view. I've used the term 'camara' to describe a word the Timelords might have used to describe a 'spiritual moment before death'. I'm sure there probably is a word for it already written but I couldn't find it . This story will probably run to two chapters. This is my second Dr Who Fanfic. Feedback welcomed
Sitting in the café, the Doctor felt strangely humbled as he stared at the elderly, white-haired man in front of him. Whatever it was that had drawn the two men together still hadn't finished with them yet. The Doctor sat back in his chair, folded his arms and began to scrutinize Wilf. The scenario would have been amusing if the situation hadn't been so dire…. a Time Lord having a cup of tea in the back streets of London with a geriatric as he battles to save the world…hmm.. The Doctor resisted an impulse to smile at the irony of it all and resumed his observation of Wilf. It had crossed the Doctor's mind to try telekinesis on the old man, just a quick probe to see whether he might discover something but he didn't want to upset Wilf. The Doctor could tell there was a lot of pain locked away in the old man's memory, a darkness that best remained undisturbed, he doubted he would find anything anyway…but those eyes….the Doctor looked into the pale, blue orbs again, he knew Wilf still carried a torch for him, he wished he didn't, it wasn't that he was kin or anything… and he certainly didn't deserve it, the Doctor had let his Grand-daughter down big time in the end. The Doctor noticed that Wilf had quite a cataract forming in his left eye and made a mental note that if he survived the onslaught he would see that Wilf had perfect vision for the rest of his life.
When Wilf had asked the inevitable question 'What's so important about me?' he had been genuinely perplexed; Wilf honestly didn't think he had any great qualities worth mentioning. He certainly didn't have the air of anybody of great significance, just an elderly man, trying to help, wearing an old red knitted hat. Certainly not the stuff heroes were made of. The Doctor, seldom stuck for an answer and having exhausted all channels of investigation hadn't been able to resist uttering, much to his chagrin, 'exactly why you?'
Those eyes again! the Doctor could feel Wilf's eyes on him, pleading, wanting to help the doctor with his predicament. He had the feeling Wilf had sussed him out months ago, not long after they had met. It didn't matter how much he walked the walk and talked the talk and did the science, he felt Wilf could see right through his façade to the lonely little boy lurking within, but there was so much more, wasn't there?. What was it about Wilf that made the Doctor feel at one with this wizened old man and want to spend time with him? The Doctor wondered whether it could be something Humans termed as 'spiritual' rather than a cause bringing them together. The Timelords also had had a name for this; 'camara' .Perhaps they were both preparing for death, maybe it was the hands of mortality at work , drawing them together.
The Doctor knew that in all probability he and Wilf didn't have all that long left to live, the important difference being that Wilf could accept the inevitable but the Doctor didn't feel ready to face death yet, Timelords were supposed to die with dignity…at best if he didn't die but regenerated it would be his 11th regeneration, Timelords could only, in theory, regenerate 12 times ….a big lump rose in the Doctor's throat, he suddenly had an overwhelming urge to cry, this was not supposed to happen, another sign his prowess as a Timelord was ebbing away, he needed to get a grip upon himself. He had broken too many rules already,
The Doctor turned quickly to the window and peered out. There was work to be done, a world to be saved but first he needed to get something off his chest…..