Chapter Eleven

The Other waited for the knock on the TARDIS doors, having asked the ship to move the medical bay even closer to the main console room.

Four little knocks, and a scritching sound outside- Wilfred's shoes on the gravel.

The Other went to the TARDIS entry, reached for the wood… and stopped, leaning his head against the double doors. Then he pushed them open to let Wilfred Mott inside. And there the old man was, frost forming on his red-rimmed eyelashes, wearing thick gloves under old stained oven mitts, as if he planned to bake a turkey rather than help an old friend deliver a baby.

"It was cold, sir," Wilfred muttered sadly, huddled in the blast of heat from the open TARDIS doors, "and Sylvia was cross and my gloves were in the laundry and… she got the message."

Then the old man slapped the Other lightly on the shoulder and winked at him, just as the half-Time Lord gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of Sylvia getting that desperate plea.

"It's all right love, she got it all right, but she was too busy goin' after her shears to notice, not that she would have, my Sylv," Wilfred added, with a grim look at the too-close door of the medical bay just across the room, "how is me old son now, eh? And the baby? Do we have the baby yet? His baby?"

The Other sagged suddenly, just for an instant, then rose up again, straight and perky and caffeinated as ever.

"You know, Wilfred, it won't be long now. And I need you to do something for me," he breathed, smiling those wet chocolate eyes at the old man, "I need you to remember me to Harold Square in there, all right? You do that for me, Wilfred? There is only one thing to be done, at this point."

Wilfred hung on the Other's arm, wide eyes fiercely leaking.

"No! no you don't… but if… if it's… you'll still be in the TARDIS, right? Saved, like one of those iCloud… things?"

The Other just smiled, as a plop of liquid hitting the floor issues from the medical room, and the sound a baby crying filled the TARDIS in peals of Christmas bells.

"Think of it as returning a borrowed library book, Wilfred. Bye, Dad!"

Then the Other walked into the medical room, and the room shone suddenly with golden light.

"Oh my god, that was insane! And I have long hair! I'm a girl! And speaking of girls, I am filthy. Need a bath. And no, I still have a… I'm naked. And wet. Oh, did I just… what is that? Is that my… baby? Baby! Oh my. Wilfred, is that you? I could use a hand!" a new voice gasped, soft, boisterous. Ancient. Adorable. Like a puppy in a bowtie.

Wilfred scrubbed his head with his oven mittened fingers, grinned to himself, and walked inside.

END