Graham's venture of asking all the other drivers if they'd seen anything odd was, in the end, fruitless.

"I've got to ask you, any talk of weird stuff or strange creatures out tonight?" He asked, trying very hard to seem casual, like that was a question you asked your mates every day. Thankfully, they bought his act, since Gabriel laughed.

"My wife's out with her mates at karaoke, if that's what you mean." The other men laughed and Graham forced a laugh with them. "Yeah, yeah."

He left a little while later, walking through the halls of the bus park and thinking a bit about the mysterious woman who called herself 'Doctor'. She'd appeared from literally nowhere-

"Sorry," a voice said to him, interrupting his thoughts, "Sorry, but, I heard your conversation earlier, and I was wondering what you meant by weird stuff." The voice belonged to an old man, white hair on top. He looked very concerned.

"Well, you know," Graham said, fumbling for words. How to explain that aliens were in Sheffield without actually saying the word aliens? "Just, odd stuff. My grandson, Ryan, he's got a friend who's a policewoman who's looking for odd stuff and I said I'd help."

He was only lying a little bit.

"Oh," the older man said. "Alright. Well, I was just askin', thought maybe you'd mean... summat else." He turned to go.

"Wait," Graham said, desperate for a lead. "Wait, what d'you mean, something else?"

"Well," he paused, looking nervous. "Like, aliens, or something of that sort. I know, I know," he said before Graham could interrupt, "Stupid. It's alright though."

"Wait," Graham said again, "That- that's exactly what I was looking for."

The other man's brown eyes lit up. "What's your name?" He asked.

"Graham," he replied. "Graham O'Brien."

"Wilfred Mott," came the friendly reply. "You know I- I've had some encounters with aliens... before." He seemed hesitant, like he wasn't sure if Graham would believe him.

Graham sighed a breathy laugh. "Me too, mate," he said. "But only just tonight."

"Oh, mine was a few years ago," Wilfred said. "I keep a- a lookout for him, just in case. He goes wherever there's anything odd, you see. With aliens."

Graham motioned for them to walk together. "There's aliens in Sheffield tonight," he said confidentially. "Who's he then, a cop?"

"No, no," Wilfred said. "Well, he's an alien himself. But he's a good alien, a friendly alien, who helps. Saved our world more times than we can count." He laughed nervously.

They reached the elevator. "Have you seen him, then?"

"I have, sometimes," Wilfred said, burying his hands in his coat pockets. "But I don't say anyfing, no, I just look out for him to make sure he's alright." He paused. "But why are you lookin' fer aliens?"

So Graham told his story of how the woman had fallen into his train and then about the rest of the night.

"Sounds an awful lot like something my alien would do," Wilfred remarked as they walked to their cars. "What's yours called again?"

"She calls herself the Doctor," Graham said. "She won't tell us of what."

But Wilfred had stopped in his tracks, staring wide-eyed at Graham.

"What?" Graham asked.

"That's my alien's name too," Wilfred said. "Only mine's a he."

Graham furrowed his brow. "Well she did say when we first met her, she asked why we'd called her a she, and she said something about being a white-haired scotsman..."

Wilfred looked deep in thought. "He can... he can do this thing, he can, change his face, and maybe he's done that a few times since I saw him last?"

"I'll bet that's it!" Graham said. "She seemed a bit out of sorts. Right now she's sleeping on our couch, actually. My wife's taking care of her."

"Wow." Wilfred seemed shocked. "Listen, mate, would you- would you tell her, next, tell her..." he looked so happy and so sad at the same time. "Tell her Donna's doing fine. Tell her that I've got two little great-grandchildren now, and they're just as feisty as her mother." He laughed with tears in his eyes. "Tell her I still look at the stars every night, and tell her that Donna has... she has these fantastic dreams she likes to talk about. She's thinking of writing a book about them, too."

Graham listened intently, cocking his head at the old man who was crying sad-happy tears. Donna, whoever she was, seemed like a story for someone else, someone who wasn't him, but that was okay. Graham got to see inside this man's life, and that made him happy enough.

"I'll tell her," Graham promised. "I'll go right up to her and say all those things."

"Thank you," Wilfred said. "Thank you so much, sir." He shook Graham's hand, but it turned into a hug. Graham didn't mind.

"I'll see you here again," Graham said once the hug was over. "I retired but I still come here sometimes to chat with my mates. I'll see you again, yeah?"

"Maybe," Wilfred said, but he sounded doubtful. "I don't know mate, I'm gettin' on in years..." He smiled the sad smile again.

"Oh, now don't say that," Graham protested. "Next week, I'll see you right here, right? Here, here's my phone number. Take it, and call sometime."

He wrote his number down on a pad of sticky notes he kept in his pockets, then tore it off the pile and gave it to Wilfred Mott.

"Alright," Wilfred took it. "I'll see you around."

Graham nodded and said goodbye. He began walking to his car.

"Hey, Graham!" Wilfred shouted at him. Graham turned to him.

"You tell her," Wilfred said, "Tell the Doctor that Donna's happy."

"I will," Graham called back to him. "I swear I will!"

Wilfred nodded, saluted, then turned and disappeared into the rows of cars. Graham headed to his own, wondering again just what kind of woman the Doctor was, to have lost a friend such as Wilfred Mott.


I was doing history homework and the idea of Wilf meeting Graham popped into my head and therefore I had to write it.

If enough people want me to, I'll write a second chapter of Graham telling the Doctor all this stuff, but for now I'll mark it completed.