Author's Note: I do not own Doctor Who. I do not claim to own Doctor Who. The BBC owns Doctor Who. This is just a piece of fanfiction. I am making no money from this story. That said, enjoy!
Time Catches Up to All of Us
"Hello!"
"Doctor, I'm so sorry. We didn't know how to contact you. I'm afraid Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart passed away, a few months ago. Doctor?"
"Yeah, uh, yes, yes, uh…"
"It was very peaceful. He talked a lot about you, if that's any comfort. Always made us pour an extra brandy in case you came 'round one of these days."
"Doctor, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing, just…"
The Doctor hung up his telephone, grief obvious upon his face. Then he pulled out a small bundle of sealed blue envelopes from his pocket. In that moment, those envelopes were the most important possession he carried. "It's time," he said simply. "It's time."
After seeing to the delivery of the envelopes, the Doctor locked himself in a room far away from the control room and wept uncontrollably. After what felt like an eternity, he gathered himself together and returned to the control room. Without so much as a word, his hands worked the console of the TARDIS feverishly to send out a message that by all accounts he shouldn't. "Time doesn't matter," he said bitterly as he finished sending his message. "It never matters."
The TARDIS soon beeped that it had sent the Doctor's message successfully. It wasn't a particularly eloquent message, or a particularly long one either, but its intent was unmistakable. It simply read, "Brigadier Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, 16 December 1929 - 22 February 2011. Be there."
To be continued...