Wilfred Mott hated the advertising executives of mattress companies. All of them promised a wonderful night's sleep – saying things like "Guaranteed Comfort!", "Be a Perfect Sleeper!" and "Get the Ultimate Sleep Experience!" Well, in the past seven months, Wilf had purchased and returned over a dozen different mattresses, and still hadn't managed to ever get more than a measly four hours of sleep per night.
His doctor had written him a prescription for a highly advanced sleep pill, which Wilf had purchased, but hadn't yet tried. He was weary of the pill's advertisements; plus, the bottle listed an astounding number of possible side-effects. That same doctor also advised Wilf to simply get into a comfortable position, close his eyes and count sheep. He knew he needed a different doctor.
So, one night, instead of counting furry farm animals, Wilfred lied down on his new water bed (Donna thought it would remind him of the ocean; it reminded him of sea sickness) and tried envisioning London police call boxes hurtling across a starry sky. Even in his imagination, the boxes were beautiful – more vivid and exciting than anything he could possibly dream of while sleeping.
But each blue box made his heart beat faster and faster, as his mind filled with an intense combination of hope and worry. By the 18th box, Wilf felt more awake and energized than he had in days. Knowing there was no sense in attempting sleep now, he stood up, threw on a jacket and some slippers, and headed outside.
He sat down at his once-usual seat atop the hill, covered his lap with a blanket, and looked up.
His heart instantly slowed as he took in the night sky. For over five years, nearly every single evening, he had spent at least an hour in that spot, examining the positions of the stars and contemplating the mysterious beauties of the universe.
But ever since Christmastime last year, the dark open space between the stars brought Wilf much more stress than joy, and his stargazing nights diminished significantly. He had glimpsed into the depths of space, and what he saw there was frightening. He knew there was turmoil, rage and war beyond the very air he breathed. Now, when gazing at the lights of the stars, Wilfred Mott, the amateur astronomer, also felt like an amateur soul.
And he worried immensely about the one great man he knew was a professional – especially since the day of his granddaughter's wedding. That's when Wilf's sleeping problems first started. The infinite hope he'd once invested in the glow of the stars was overshadowed by the anguish he had seen in the Doctor's dark eyes.
Yet, on this night, Wilf felt oddly drawn to his telescope. It was new: some fancy- schmancy way-way-waaayyy-too-pricey tech toy that Donna surprised him with a few days after she discovered her multi-million pound lottery win. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he would rarely use it. Nor could he possibly explain the reasons why.
Wilf cupped the heavy instrument with both hands and adjusted his sight to the eyepiece. He saw Ursa Minor and Ursa Major, Cassiopeia and Andromeda. He examined Bootes and Perseus. And he felt nothing.
He shifted the telescope to examine Virgo, when the entire screen suddenly flashed blue. But then, he blinked and saw only the familiar night sky again. He swung the telescope a slight bit towards the south, when it happened again – another blue flash, followed by the usual stars. He shifted back north, and it happened a third time.
Then, he leaned back out of the telescope, and saw it with his bare eyes.
If Wilfred Mott was a fainter, he would have promptly collapsed at the moment, and would have missed out on a sight that Wilfred Mott, of all men on Earth, absolutely needed to see. As it so happened, the old man had never been the type to lose a grip on his consciousness.
And so, Wilfred Mott just gasped, and looked back into the telescope, zooming out a bit this time. He maneuvered the eyepiece around, questioning his own sanity, before he caught hold of an undeniable sight that affirmed his vision: a tall blue box was indeed soaring across the Greater London skyline.
"Oh my God!" Wilf couldn't help but shout to the air. It was difficult to follow the box - which he knew was called the TARDIS - since it was flying rather widely, even turning upside down. It kept crossing in and out of Wilf's view, as he frantically zoomed the lens in and out. Goodness, the energy of that box! It reminded Wilf instantly of its owner's powerful spirit.
Finally, Wilf was able to linger on the TARDIS for a few whole seconds, and his heart nearly stopped. A man was hanging down outside the door, swaying erratically, and holding on by just his fingertips. Wilf's instinct was to open his arms wide and prepare for a hero's catch, but he knew that would be pointless. Instead, he continued to follow the TARDIS as it flung in and out of view; he needed to identify the man.
It took Wilf a few more maneuvers, before he saw a flash of it: legs wearing dark brown pants, and feet in worn white trainers. Was it possible for a man's mouth to simultaneously smile and frown? Because Wilf's likely did.
On his next clear sight of the TARDIS, Wilf saw the back of the man's head. He thought his hair looked slightly longer and different than the Doctor's – his Doctor's – but he wasn't entirely sure. It didn't really matter, because Wilf also saw the Doctor – and it was the Doctor, no denying that – saving himself; He was fighting to lift his body back inside the TARDIS. Finally, the doors slammed safely shut.
"That's him, that's him! Oh my God – he's alive!" Wilf jumped up, and for the first time since Donna's wedding reception, he did a little dance. "Ha-ha! Go on, Doctor! I told you you'd be alright! Oh my God…"
He continued to gape at the sky with his bare eyes, as he could easily see the TARDIS zipping away. When it eventually faded out of sight, Wilf stood strong and still, despite the tears welling up. He drew up his hand, and without saying a word, saluted to the sky – for his friend, his teacher, his son; to the greatest man he would ever know being alive, and clearly fighting to stay that way.
"Oi, Granddad! Did you just salute…to the stars?"
Wilf spun around. Donna was carrying a thermos, a novel, a flashlight and an utterly bemused facial expression.
"Yes. I suppose I was, sweetheart. Yes." he responded, before rushing over to hug his granddaughter. "What are you doing here? Couldn't sleep either?"
"Oh no, I'm just not very tired. Thought I'd see if you were here too, and catch up on some Agatha Christie. I heard this one's about evil wasps. Oi, imagine: evil wasps!" She sat down on the ground and opened up the novel. "Ha! The things people dream up! Thank goodness it's just fiction. I can't imagine how I'd deal with such things…"
"You'd be brilliant, sweetheart." Wilf sat down next to her.
Donna continued to talk, ranting on about the "ridiculous" things she'd read in other Agatha Christie novels, but Wilf soon tuned her out. For the first time in seven months, he felt tired.
He closed his eyes and saw the face of the man he hoped to see again some day. But even if he didn't, he knew they would both be all right.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I absolutely adore Wilf's relationship with the Doctor, and I wanted to further explore his feelings after The End of Time. And if it wasn't obvious, I was inspired by Wilf seeing Donna in the TARDIS during Partners in Crime.
I took some liberty in setting Wilf's view of the 11th Doctor seven months after Donna's wedding. The 10th Doctor regenerates after visiting Rose on January 1st, 2005, but then the 11th Doctor lands outside of Amelia's home at Easter time in 1996. As far as I can tell, the time in which he nearly falls out of the TARDIS (in the opening minutes of The Eleventh Hour) is never specified. So, I simply imagined it to occur at an interesting time for 'ol Wilf. I also took some liberty in pretending that he could see the TARDIS flying about near Big Ben, while in Chiswick. Hopefully these issues aren't too bothersome.