The Warnings
Elsewhere, the residents of the Nobles' Home in Chiswick – Wilfred Mott, Sylvia Noble, Donna Noble and Shaun Temple – were busy unwrapping their Christmas presents to the sound of Noddy Holder screaming out his famous (or could that be infamous?) Christmas single. For a family that was largely on stepping stones regarding the youngest Noble's memory, they were mostly happy…that was, aside from the youngest Noble herself. The trouble was that, for the life of her, she couldn't remember why she wasn't entirely merry.
But perhaps it would be better to say that she felt as happy as could be on this Christmas Day…because one reason that she could still be happy was the fact that her family was largely happy. Mind you, she'd probably be even happier once her Auntie Fred was here.
"Now then, steady on! It's never too early for margaritas, that's what I say," Donna was saying to the others in the house. "I forgot to get lemons, so I used oranges instead. It's all fruit, same difference." It wasn't exactly the end of the world, was it? It might even end up tasting better than the usual citrus garnish…
"Oh, now that's lovely!" Sylvia crowed in delight after opening a present. "Look at that – absolutely beautiful!" She held it up as she examined the piece of clothing that Donna had given her this Christmas. "Love from Donna! Did you keep the receipt?" she made one of her old shopping-related inside jokes.
"Yes, I did," Donna joked back in her trademark playful snark, before her attention was refocused on Wilf, who was busy mulling over the book she'd got him (Fighting the Future by Joshua Naismith). "Come on, Gramps, you've been a right old misery ever since you got up. Do you like it then, the book?"
"Joshua Naismith?" he asked in more than a little confusion – he didn't really think much of the man. Come to think of it, neither did Fred – Billionaires were next after Politicians on Professor Frederica Shepherd's List of Contempt. Why? Because more often that not, money and Politics went hand-in-hand with psychopathy and Machiavellianism. "I mean, what'd you get me this for?"
"I don't know," she replied, actually thinking it over for a moment. Why had she got him a book about a snooty old Billionaire? After a little moment, she gave the only answer she could give her grandfather. "I just saw it in the shop and thought of you…it just…felt like the sort of thing you should have…"
It would have been fair to say that Wilfred Mott was a little perplexed by what Donna had just told him. But then again…perplexing didn't even begin to cover what had happened on Earth over the last four years…
*DW* Fred's POV… *DW*
Meanwhile, Fred was busy trying to locate where she'd misplaced her present that she'd planned to give to her favourite goddaughter. Although, Donna would probably have made a joke about how she was Fred's only goddaughter…and Fred would just say that this would be all the more reason to appreciate her. After a considerable search that bordered on ransacking her own bedroom – such as it was, being largely a complete and utter mess – she found the already wrapped present.
It was curious how some of the most brilliant minds on the planet couldn't be bothered with tidying their bedroom. Yet, that was how it was for Fred – her mind on her work, friends and family, leaving almost no room for tidying her room. She often made a joke among her more scientifically oriented friends that it was pointless tidying a bedroom because the main culprits were the Laws of Thermodynamics. Nothing ever got tidier unless putting in some effort – in fact, leave it long enough, and it would get messier. Fred would give her flat thorough dustings, but that was about it – everything else except paperwork was scattered throughout the place.
Still…it was no use dwelling on that now. She had a present to deliver, a Doctor to help, and a Master to catch. So then – it was just a day's work as a member of the TARDIS Crew. Perhaps once all this was over, Fred would have a proper chat with the Doctor about what they'd done together last night. It had been out of sheer desperation…but could it have been more?
Yep, she'd need a serious chat with him when this business was over…
*DW* Wilf's POV… *DW*
Things only got stranger for Wilfred Mott as Christmas Day progressed. Shaun Temple had given arrived to give his presents and celebrate Christmas with the rest of the Noble/Mott Family – they weren't much, but it was the thought that counted, after all – while slipping in a joke about President Obama's plan to end the recession. If Fred had been there, she'd have held back her opinions on Politicians just so they wouldn't cause the entire gathering to descend into chaos. All in all, it had been going well…until that woman from the Church – Wilf deciding to refer to her as the Woman, capital W – had appeared on the TV in place of the Queen's Speech.
"Events are moving, Wilfred," she told him in a grave tone that started to dampen his festive spirit. "Faster than we thought."
"Oi, can you see that?" Wilf called over to the others – he had to be certain that Donna wouldn't see this. But Donna didn't seem to have heard it…and that both relieved and unnerved him.
"Frankly, I'd tell Her Majesty it's time for trouser suits," his granddaughter commented. Auntie Fred could probably do with making a habit of wearing them in Winter as well…in case she got caught out so late. But no – she liked to have freedom to fully stretch her legs. Oh well – she also carried the same handbag she'd had since the age of 19. It must have worn well…
"No, no, no, no, that's not the…" he trailed off in confusion. Why could nobody else see what he was witnessing right now?
"Only you can see," the Woman told the Old Soldier. "Only you and Frederica stand at the Heart of Coincidence."
"Why? What have Fred or I done?"
"You're an Old Soldier, Sir…only you were too late. The War was won and passed you by."
"I did my duty!" Wilf replied, a little more than offended. He'd heeded the call of duty and gone to Palestine – and he could attest that it was Hell. It had haunted his life from that time onwards.
"But you never killed a man," the Woman stated.
"No, I didn't," the Old Soldier gave his answer to the statement. "No, I did not, no, but…don't say that like it's shameful!" He might have answered his call to duty…but he simply hadn't been able to pull the trigger and end a man's life. What was so shameful about not having killed anyone?! Or about being true to yourself?!
"The time will come when you must take arms," she told him, the sadness almost an aura around the stranger's figure. But there was only one other question on Wilfred Mott's mind…
"Who are you?" Wilf whispered almost imperceptibly.
"Tell the Doctor nothing of this," she implored him, as though she were not able to stress this enough. "Tell Frederica if you must…for she is the only other who can see. But you must tell the Doctor nothing. His life could still be saved…so long as you tell him nothing…" Her image flickered away, leaving one very bewildered Wilfred Mott to mull over her words before heading upstairs…
*DW*
Once in the privacy of his own bedroom, Wilf pulled an old suitcase out from underneath his bed. Opening the case, he saw on object wrapped up in a piece of old cloth…and underneath it was his old revolver. It was the gun that he had never once used to kill a man. He knew that the duty of a Soldier would sometimes demand it…but he just couldn't do it. If that meant he was a coward…then so be it. He would choose to be condemned for who he was any day of the week…there should be no shame in not wanting to kill a person…
"There isn't any shame in not wanting to kill a man, Old Soldier," a soft, but slightly weary voice told the Old Soldier. He looked around in the direction of the windowsill…and saw a grey-haired middle-aged man in a very crisp indigo suit – almost a little too crisp, as well as far too naturally textured to be a business suit one would find in most menswear departments, in Wilf's opinion – accessorised with a burgundy velvet waistcoat and a plum necktie. As he took in the Man's appearance, he noticed the occasional pattern on both waistcoat and necktie that he was almost certain no one had seen on Earth before. "And there never will be…"
"I guess I'm the only one that can see this, then," Wilf muttered, taking a wild stab in the dark from his experience with the Woman.
"Well reasoned, Wilfred," the Man in Indigo gave a small smile.
"That woman…" the Old Soldier began to speak, unclear as to what he should say…or rather, how he should say it. "She told me not to tell the Doctor…"
"And so you must not," the Man answered simply…but there was something in his voice – and his eyes – that spoke volumes of wisdom…wisdom beyond the apparent age. "He has far too much to shoulder already, Wilfred Mott. He is not merely fighting some monster or madman…he is facing something much deeper that the evil that one can see with the eyes. People change when they are faced with Oblivion." His words unnerved the Old Soldier…perhaps more than the Woman's did, if that were possible. "Help him save his life if you can…but he must find something worth living for…or he could lose himself along the way…"
Just then, Wilf turned around to see something hit his window…only to find that, when he turned back to face the Man, the stranger had vanished, much like the Woman had in the Church. Then he heard the sound that he prayed Donna would not be able to hear…
*DW*
Outside the Nobles' house, he saw Fred approaching…and thankfully, no TARDIS in sight. This quelled his fears of Donna seeing the Box and remembering her journey with the Doctor. He noticed the wrapped present in Fred's hand…but also noticed that she wore a foreboding look on her face.
"We're going to need your help, Wilf," she told him. "We lost him. The Doctor knows he's still on Earth, but he's too far away – the trail's gone cold."
"But I can't leave! What if Donna notices?!" he protested. It felt strange talking to Fred, knowing that she too could see both the Woman in White and the Man in Indigo.
"Perhaps we should make up an excuse, then? But right now, we need to know if there's anything weird going on," Fred insisted, imploring him to tell her anything that might help them catch the Master and figure out what was going on.
"Well, there was a…well, it was…no, it's nothing," he tried waving it off, probably thinking that it was just that.
"Wilf, please!" she pleaded with him – the safety of not just Donna, but everyone on the planet, or in the Universe, could be in danger now. "This could be the difference between life and death for everyone!"
"Well…Donna was a bit strange, Fred," Wilf told her. "She had a funny little moment, this morning – all because of that book."
"Please don't tell me it was Joshua Naismith," she groaned at the thought of that awful Billionaire's book…
*DW*
It turned out to be exactly that – none other than Fighting the Future by Joshua Naismith. Well…as much as she struggled to see how he could possibly be connected to all of this…maybe the Doctor would have better luck. Although, she would confess to a certain curiosity as to what kind of man would have a Private Army on hand to catch a rogue Time Lord…it didn't make sense to her. Maybe she was missing something…
"Well, thank you Wilf," she gave her goddaughter's granddad her gratitude for what she hoped would be a clue that the Doctor would pick up on. "Now then…" she readied her present for Donna and headed inside. "Donna!"
"Auntie Fred!" her goddaughter exclaimed happily, rushing over to pull her into a crushing hug.
"Donna, it's good…to see…you too!" she wheezed, trying to breathe, inhaling deeply as Donna let go. "Now come on – open the present!"
She watched as Donna began to open the present that she had made for her, eagerly awaiting the moment that her goddaughter would see the slogan she'd put on both sides of it. Once there was a hole in the wrapping, Donna felt the fabric in her hands…before the wrapping was torn off to reveal a jumper saying 'QUEEN OF TEMPS' on the front, and 'BOW BEFORE ME' on the back.
"Aw, thanks Auntie!" Donna thanked her godmother.
"My pleasure…Queen of Temps!" Fred shot back. Both of them burst into laughter at the play on the jumper's slogan. As far as Fred was concerned, her goddaughter was the Temp Queen – one, she was a Temp, two, she was her goddaughter. She had to stop a moment to remember the other reason she was in here. "Donna, Shaun, could I have a word with Sylvia and Wilf, please?"
"Sure, yeah," Donna replied, beckoning Shaun back into the living room, leaving her mother and grandfather alone with her godmother.
"Sylvia, I'm sorry to ask, but I need Wilf's help with something," Fred broke it to her as simply as she could. "Can't say what it is here, in case Donna finds out."
"Don't tell me – it's got something to do with the Doctor," Sylvia took a wild guess where this was going. The looks on Fred and Wilf's faces were all the answer she needed – she guessed right, then. Fred could almost hear her friend's mind working away, deciding on what sort of reply she should give…when the answer came, it took her by surprise. "Alright, then – it's probably something like the end of the world."
"Thanks, Sylvia."
"Just bring him back in one piece, Fred."
"You got it…"
*DW*
"What was all that about?" asked one confused Wilfred Mott as he and Fred headed towards the TARDIS.
"I couldn't risk saying anything where Donna might hear – you know what might happen, Wilf," replied Fred, now free to fully disclose what she had to say. "We and the Doctor going to save the entire planet – up for it?"
"Er…"
"Same here," she told him as they headed into the TARDIS, the Doctor waiting for them both. "Check this out, Doctor," she told the Time Lord, throwing the book into his hands. At once, the Doctor began using whatever the Hell those controls were to track Naismith, and by extension, hopefully the Master.
"Naismith! If I can track him down-" he began to ramble, before he noticed the look of complete bewilderment on Wilf's face at he took in the TARDIS Console Room. "Ah, right, yes. Bigger on the inside! D'you like it?"
"I thought it'd be cleaner," Wilf remarked.
"Cleaner?!" the Doctor exclaimed, hurt by the remark against the Desktop Theme – what was wrong with it, anyway? "I could take you back home right now!" he told the old man with a faux-warning finger.
"Listen, Doctor, if this is a Time Machine, than man you're chasing – why can't you just pop back to yesterday and catch him?"
"I can't go back inside my own Timeline," the Time Lord answered. "I have to stay relative to the Master within the Causal Nexus – understand?"
"Not a word," breathed Wilf.
"Welcome aboard!"
Fred just shook her head, rolling her eyes. The Doctor sure liked to impress…perhaps she should try explaining it to Wilf sometime…in words he could understand, of course. Right now, they had to focus on the issue of the Master. But neither of them could have contemplated the impact they would have on the Doctor's life…and his Fate…
What neither Wilf nor the Doctor noticed was the fact that Fred kept on idly fingering her old pocket watch…almost as though it was only just meaning something here and now…