Donna and Wilf were sat at the kitchen table watching the evening news while Sylvia went through the box of things that Donna had managed to bring home with her.

"To confirm, the Royal Hope Hospital was returned to its original position, but with only one survivor." The reporter said. "The only person left alive is medical student Oliver Morgenstern."

"There were these creatures." Morgenstern said, sitting wrapped in an orange shock blanket. "Like…rhinos, talking rhinos, in-in-in black leather."

"Rhinos?" Donna said.

"Rhinos could be aliens." Wilf said, his brow furrowed.

"Shh…" Donna said.

"There were hundreds of them." Morgenstern continued. "We couldn't breathe. We were running out of air. A colleague of mine gave me the last oxygen tank. Martha. Martha Jones. And she-she died."

"At least you got a hole punch." Sylvia said, taking the punch out and placing it beside the box. "And a raffle ticket." She added, pulling a pink ticket out to show her daughter.

"Yeah, well they can keep the raffle." Donna said. "I wouldn't take a penny off that man."

"Honestly, you two." Wilf reprimanded them. "There's aliens on the news. They took that hospital all the way to the moon and you're banging on about raffle tickets."

"Don't be daft, Gramps." Donna said. "It wasn't the moon! It couldn't be."

"Yes, well, I'm telling you-it's getting worse." Wilf said. "These past few years, it's like, all of a sudden, they suddenly know all about us and…there's keen eyes up there and they're not friendly."

"This stapler says 'Bea'." Sylvia said, holding the item up.

"Can't believe how well you're taking it, me getting sacked." Donna said. "Thought you'd hit the roof."

"I'm just tired, Donna." Sylvia said, sounding disappointed.

"What with your father and everything. To be honest, I've given up on you."

"…This further report just in, from Oliver Morgenstern." The report continued.

"There was this woman who took control who said she-she know what to do." Morgenstern said. "Said she could stop the MRI or something. Sarah Jane, her name was. Sarah Jane Smith."

"Sarah Jane Smith was a freelance investigative journalist formally of Metropolitan Magazine." The reporter said over pictures of the woman. "Her body was recovered from the hospital this afternoon. Miss Smith had a son called…"

"What's for tea?" Donna asked, looking at her mother from across the table.

"I've got nothing in." Sylvia said.

"I'll get chips then." She said, forcing a smile on her face and a cheeriness in her voice. "The last of my wages… Fish and chips, yeah?". However, her smile faltered momentarily when neither her mother or grandfather answered her.

"…along with his teenage friends Maria Jackson and Clyde Langer. It is feared that they also perished." The reported continued in the background.

Donna was walking down the street when she saw a flash of light and heard the crackle of electricity. Flinching, she continued on until the blonde woman came stumbling out of an alley way a few feet in front of her.

"Blimey." Donna said. "Are you alright? What was that, fireworks, or…?"

"I dunno!" the woman replied, looking around. "I was just walking along and…that's weird." As she spoke, Donna suddenly recognised her. She was the woman from last Christmas.

"You're the one." She said. "Christmas Eve-I met you in town."

"Donna, isn't it?" the woman asked.

"What was your name?" Donna asked.

"How are you doing?" the woman asked, ignoring the question. "You're looking good…"

Click Click Click.

There was a faint clicking sound, distracting the woman in front of her.

"How've you been doing?" the woman continued. "What have you been up to?"

"You're doing it again." Donna told her.

"What?" the woman asked.

"Looking behind me." Donna replied. "People keep on doing that-looking at my back."

"What sort of people?"

"People in the street." Donna replied. "Strangers. I just catch them, sometimes, staring at me…like they're looking at something."

The woman's eyes strayed to Donna's back again.

"And then I get home and look and there's nothing there." Donna continued.

She swiped at her back.

"See, look, now I'm doing it!" she said.

"What are you doing for Christmas?" the woman asked suddenly.

"What am I what?" Donna demanded.

"Next Christmas. Do you have any plans?"

"I don't know, that's ages away!" Donna said, confused. "Nothing much I suppose. Why?"

"Just… think you should get out." The woman said. "You and your family, don't stay in London. Just…leave the City."

"What for?" Donna asked.

"A nice hotel." The woman replied. "Christmas break?"

"Can't afford it." Donna told her.

"You've got that raffle ticket."

"How do you know about that?" Donna asked.

"First prize…" the woman said. "Luxury weekend break. Use it, Donna Noble."

"Why won't you tell me your name?" Donna asked coldly.

When she didn't receive an answer, she moved to walk around her.

"I think you should leave me alone." She told her.

She walked away and the woman didn't try to stop her. She just turned and walked back into the alley and was greeted by the same flash of light and spark of electricity.

Donna ignored it.

The Nobles parked in the driveway of a mansion house; a couple of footmen were waiting for them in the doorway.

"Cor, blimey." Wilf said, getting out of the car. "That's what I can posh!" . Smiling, he had his way to the trunk of the car so he could grab his bags, his pair of antlers flashing proudly the entire way.

"I said you were lucky, didn't I?" he said to Donna. "I always said, my lucky star!"

"For god's sake, don't tell them we won it in a raffle." Sylvia told them in a low voice. "Be classy."

She spotted the antlers.

"Dad!" she hissed. "Take those things off!"

"No, I shan't!" he told her. "It's Christmas."

"Oi, I'll have that one, thank you." He told the footman who tried to take one of his bags. "It's got my liniment in it." Donna and Sylvia strolled up the drive.

"I reckon we deserve this." Donna said. "It's been a hell of a year."

"Your dad would have loved this." Sylvia said.

"Yeah." Donna replied, smiling softly. "He would've."

Donna put her arm around her mother and they walked inside.

Wilf's feet were sticking out of the end of his blanket as he lay on the sofa, waving in time with 'Good King Wenceslas'.

There was knocking on the door.

"Oi, Gramps!" Donna called from the bathroom. "Get that! That'll be breakfast. Croissants!" Wilf shifted himself to look at his daughter, who was sitting in the bed, making her way through a box of luxury chocolates.

"Why can't you get it, Lady Muck?" he asked her.

"It's Christmas Day." She replied, flipping through the channels. "I never get up before ten. Only, madam there was up with the dawn chorus, like when she was six years old."

"I'm not wasting a second of this place." Donna said enthusiastically. "How was the sofa?"

"Oh, yeah…" Wilf said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Not so good, really." He stood up, massaging his back.

"You know, we could have paid for a second room." He told them.

"Oi!" He whistled and pointed at Donna. "Merry Christmas!" he called.

She chuckled and pointed back.

"Merry Christmas!" she told him.

There was knocking at the door again and Wilf went to open it.

"Yeah, all right, come in, my darling." He said, standing back to let the maid through. "Grub's up! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, sir!" the maid replied in a Spanish accent.

"We have interrupted your program to bring you breaking news." A reporter on the TV said.

"Have you seen this?" Sylvia called.

"Because I thought, nice early breakfast and then we'll go for a walk." Donna said. "People always say at Christmas, 'Oh we all went for a walk'. I've always wanted to do that."

The maid set the tray down with a smile, but froze when she saw Donna brushing her hair.

"So, walk first, presents later, yeah?" Donna continued.

"Donna, come and see." Sylvia called, her eyes glued to the TV screen.

"Tienes algo en tu espalda." The maid said to Donna.

"What?" Donna asked.

"Donna, look at the telly." Sylvia said urgently.

"Tienes algo en tu espalda!" the maid said, just as urgently.

"What does that mean?" Donna asked her. "I don't know what you're saying."

"Donna, look at the TV!" Sylvia told her.

"Tienes algo en tu espalda!" the maid said, sounding fearful.

Donna saw something out of the corner of her eye in the mirror.

Something on her back, like a spindly leg or a feeler.

She heard the clicking sound again, like the pincers of a beetle.

The maid ran from the room, but the news on the TV kept anyone from noticing.

"For God's sake, Donna don't just stand there!" Sylvia told her. "Come and look!" Donna strained to see her back in the mirror, turning and feeling herself, but whatever it was, it had disappeared.

"It seems impossible, but this footage is live and genuine." The reporter said over the footage. "The object is falling on Ventral London. Repeat: this is not a hoax. A replica of the Titanic has fallen out of the sky and it's heading for Buckingham Palace. We're getting this footage from the Guinevere range of satellites."

"Is that…a film or something?" Donna asked.

The replica of the Titanic was now only mere feet above the Palace.

"The Royal Air Force has declared anarchy-"

The Titanic crashed straight through the roof of the Palace and a second later, the screen turned to white noise.

A second later, a blast shook the hotel room.

"It's gone dead." Sylvia said, flipping through the channels. "All of them."

"No, but the Titanic…" Donna said with a nervous smile. "Well, don't be daft. Is that like a…sequel?"

Wilf stood at the window with a look of utter revulsion at what he was seeing.

"Oh…" he whispered. "Oh, God rest their souls."

Everyone stood outside staring in horror at the huge mushroom cloud which was where London had once been.

"I was supposed to be out there selling papers." Wilf said. "I should have been there, we all should. We'd be dead."

"That's everyone." Sylvia said slowly, her mind racing as she tried to comprehend the gravity of the situation. "Every single person we know. The entire city."

"It can't be." Donna said in disbelief.

"But it is, it's gone!" Sylvia said. "London's gone!"

"If you hadn't won that raffle…" Wilf told Donna.

Donna stood there, her mouth open in shock.

Suddenly, she felt someone looking at her.

She turned to find the maid from earlier pointing at her, eyes narrowed, shaking her head.

Donna, Wilf, and Sylvia were all huddled around a small wooden desk, talking to a tired looking housing office in a crowded office.

"Leeds?" Donna demanded in horror. "I'm not moving to Leeds!"

"It's Leeds-or you can wait in the hostel for another three months." The housing office told her in a tone which left no room for argument.

"All I want is a washing machine." Sylvia said woefully.

"What about Glasgow?" Donna asked. "I heard there were some jobs going in Glasgow."

"You can't pick and choose!" the woman told them, irritated. "We have the whole of Southern England flooded with radiation. Seven million people in need of relocation, and now France has closed its borders. So, it's Leeds-or nothing. Next!"

She stamped the word LEEDS in large red letters on their papers.

It was finalised.

The Nobles were moving to Leeds.

An army bus arrived in a street crowded with small terraced houses. A soldier stood with a loud speaker calling out house assignments.

"The Daniels Family, billeted at number 15." He called. "Mr. and Mrs. Obego, billeted at number 31. Miss Contrane, you're in number 8. The Noble family billeted at number 29."

"That's us." Wilfred said, picking up their cases. "Come on, off we go. Oh. All right?" A woman stood with her arms folded in the doorway next to theirs, regarding them with hostility.

"Used to be a nice little family in number 29." She told them. "They missed one mortgage payment-just one-they got booted out. All for you lot."

"Don't get all chippy with me, Vera Duckworth." Donna told her, matching her hostility. "Pop your clogs on and go and feed whippets."

"Sweetheart, come on." Wilf said, pulling her along. "You're not going to make the world any better by shouting at it."

"I can try." Donna replied.

They found number 29, only to find the door locked.

"What happens?" Sylvia asked. "Do we get keys?"

"I don't know, do I?" Wilf replied.

"Well, who do we ask?" Sylvia said, looking around. "The soldiers? What about that one? She looks friendly enough."

Following her mother's pointing finger, Donna laid eyes on another familiar face from years ago. Unable to help herself, she trotted over to the crimson haired woman who was standing in the middle of the street, keeping a close eye everyone.

"Hey… I remember you… Luna, isn't it?" She said, causing the woman to turn around.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked, her eyes sweeping over the older woman. For some reason unknown to her, it hurt to not be recognised by her.

"I was there… when they pulled that guy's body from the Thames." The moment the words left Donna's mouth, she knew that she had said something wrong as the crimson haired woman tensed up, her face turning cold.

"Never mention that incident again ma'am. It's a code red and strictly need to know and you do not need to know. Now Ms Noble, is it?" she asked, waiting for Donna to nod. "I suggest you go to your home and start to settle down as you'll be here for a good long time."

"What happened to you?" Donna asked before she could stop herself. The woman she saw two years ago wasn't like this hard solider in front of her. The woman she saw die was energetic and human.. not cold and unfeeling.

"Part of me died," she murmured. "I died when his cold body was pulled from that bunker. I had waited for him for years and then, when I thought he had come back for me, his corpse was delivered to me on a slab in our morgue. Have you ever had to watch the people you care for burn?"

Donna's mind flashed back to that mushroom cloud floating where London used to be while her and her family were in a nice hotel in the country.

"I was in London while it burned… I had to cremate the man I loved… I had to watch as everything crumbled around me while I lived… Children screamed and begged for their parents as they suffocated and choked on smoke and ash. I would love to care, Ms Noble, but caring hurts." Luna told her, wiping a tear from her eye before placing a hand on her shoulder, her thumb rubbing soothing circles into her back.

"I'm sorry about what happened to you."

"I'm sorry as well Ms Noble. I am sorry that you and your family are trapped here… It feels as though something isn't right here." She told her before walking over to a group of young children.

With a sad smile, Donna walked back over to 29. As she arrived ,the door suddenly opened to reveal a beaming Italian man.

"Hey-ey-ey!" he said, smacking the wall of the house enthusiastically. "Is a big house! Room for all. Welcome! In you come."

"I thought this was our house." Donna said.

"Is many people's house!" the man replied. "Is wonderful! In, in, in!" He ushered them into the narrow hallway.

"We've been here for eight weeks already." He continued. "Had a nice little paper shop in Shepherd's Bush-all gone now!" Two little boys watched them from the stairs.

"So, upstairs, we have Merchandani family, seven of them." He told them. "Good family. Good kids." He eyed one of the boys.

"Except that one." He told them. "You be careful of him." He burst out laughing and ruffled the boy's hair.

"Ah, that's joking!" he said. "Where's that smile, eh?"

He gestured to himself.

"Rocco Colasanto." He said. "I'm here with my wife and her sister and her husband and their kids and her daughter's kids. We've got the front room." He looked at them apologetically.

"My mother, she's got the back room." He told them. "She's old. You'll forgive. And this, this is you. This is your place!" He showed them into a narrow kitchen, which instead of a door, had a curtain. Beds were made up on the floor.

"What do you mean, this is us?" Sylvia demanded.

"You live here!" Rocco replied with apparent delight.

"We're living in the kitchen?" Donna asked.

"You got camp-beds." He told them. "You got the cooker, you keep warm, you got the fridge, you keep cool. Is good!"

"What about the bathroom?" Sylvia asked.

"Nobody lives in the bathroom." He replied. "

No, I mean, is there a rota?" she asked.

"Is pot luck!" he replied, laughing. "Is fun! I go wake Mamma. She likes new people."

He pushed past them into the hallway.

"Mamma!" he shouted. "Is people! Nice people!"

Donna, Wilf, and Sylvia looked around with some despair.

"Oh, well." Wilf said heartily. "We'll settle in, won't we? Make do? Bit of wartime spirit, eh?"

"Yeah, but there isn't a war." Donna said. "There's no fight. It's just…this."

"Well, American, they'll save us." Wilf said, refusing to be brought down. "It was on the news. They're going to send Great Britain fifty-billion quid in financial aid. God bless America!"

The inhabitants of number 29 were all crowded around the television in the kitchen, eating food out of tins.

"America in crisis, with sixty million reported dead." A reporter was saying. "Sixty million people have dissolved into fat. And the fat is walking." The TV showed footage of little blobs of fat with faces waddling down the streets.

"People's fat has come to life and is walking through the streets." The reporter continued. "And there are spaceships. There are reports of spaceships over every major US city. The fat is flying. It's leaving…"

"Aliens." Wilf said.

"Yeah." Donna replied.

They didn't even seem surprised anymore.

Just depressed about it all.

"The fat creatures are being raised into the air…"