Chapter Twelve: Outside Help

In the state the Doctor was in, it had been relatively easy to get him to drink some water with two sleeping pills dissolved in it. The hard part had been getting the unconscious Time Lord all the way to his room and tucking him up in bed. Asleep, the Doctor looked deceptively peaceful.

Wilf collapsed into the chair, sure he was shaking harder than when the Doctor had first been injured. He didn't bother to get a blanket or drink this time, just sat still, trying to process what had happened.

He hadn't seen it coming, but he should have done. What sort of father was he? Of course the Doctor couldn't handle everything he'd been through, time after time, with no fallout. Wilf knew that all the pain would have to have come out at some point, he just … hadn't predicted anything as horrifying as this.

What if he hadn't got there on time? No, don't think about that, Wilf chided himself. But he couldn't help it. The memories of their talk about regeneration rang in his ears over and over again.

"Even if I change, it feels like dying. Everything I am dies. Some new man goes sauntering away, and I'm dead."

Wilf felt sick to the stomach. It didn't make sense that the man who had said those things only days ago, so fearful of dying, was the same man he had just had to stop taking his own life. Because that was what it was. Maybe he would have come back, but not as himself. As a programmed personality, stripped of everything that made the Doctor who he was.

The more he thought about it, though, the more he could see where the Doctor's temptation lay. To be human meant to be mortal. And to regenerate meant he could see Donna again—even be part of the family.

How could Wilf talk him out of it, when they both knew the Doctor faced a future alone otherwise?

"Help me, Vera," Wilf murmured miserably, addressing the key still around his neck. "I'm out of my depth here. I don't know what to do."

He got no reply. Wilf rubbed his eyes, scolding himself. She's dead, he told himself sternly. She said her goodbyes and left and it was for good. She can't help you anymore.

"What about you, then?" Wilf felt rather silly, addressing the ceiling, but Donna had told him the TARDIS was alive and he couldn't think who else could have warned him about the Doctor's actions. "I need help here! What am I supposed to do now?"

No words came, but the sensation returned, the feeling inside Wilf's mind that he had to go in a certain direction. Casting one last glance at his son, Wilf followed the feeling all the way to the empty console room.

A lump in his throat, Wilf spied the note still taped to the console. He pulled it off and stuffed it, crumpled, into his pocket.

The screen flickered into life, making him start, and he hurried over to look at it. A long number had appeared on it, and a little symbol was turning, as if the TARDIS was processing something.

Sarah Jane was working on an article, but her mind was not really on it. Christmas had certainly been eventful, what with a planet in the sky and everyone losing several hours of their memory, and it was one of those times she didn't know what had caused it—she was only thankful that whoever it was had stepped in to stop it. Maybe UNIT, or maybe even the Doctor ...

"Sarah Jane, I'm receiving an incoming call."

She looked up, grateful for the distraction. "Who from?"

"From the Doctor."

"Oh!" Sarah Jane said, pleasantly surprised. "Put him through, Mr Smith."

A picture bloomed across the screen, and it wasn't what she had been expecting. An old man she didn't recognise was peering curiously at her, and jumped a moment after he'd appeared. "Oh! Hullo!"

"Hello," Sarah Jane said. "Er, how did you call me?"

"What are you talking about, you called me!"

"No I didn't. Who are you?"

"I'm Wilfred Mott. Who are you?"

"My name's Sarah Jane Smith." He looked blank. Sarah Jane's attention was caught by the background. "Hold on a moment. Are you in the TARDIS?"

"Yeah, I am. You know the Doctor?"

"Yes."

"Oh, thank goodness." Wilfred sounded like he was about to start crying. "I need your help, please; I don't know what to do."

"Help with what? Where's the Doctor?"

He glanced behind him. "Er, it's a bit … complicated …"

Mr Smith spoke up. "Now I have the TARDIS base code I can bring the ship here."

"Yes—do that, Mr Smith. Hold on," Sarah Jane said to Wilfred.

The screen went blank as the call was cut off, and then a few moments later the TARDIS' engine's groans filled the attic. Sarah Jane hastily moved out of the way as the familiar blue box materialised in the middle of the room.

Once it had finished, the door opened and Wilfred Mott looked out. Sarah Jane smiled at him, and he returned it weakly. "Hullo."

"Hello, Wilfred." Sarah Jane held out her hand and he shook it.

"Wilf, please. Er … don't I know you?"

Sarah Jane paused. "Do you?"

"Yes! You were on that sub wave, thing."

"The subwave network? I don't remember seeing you on there."

"Don't have a webcam," Wilf explained.

He looked utterly frazzled, and exhausted. Sarah Jane felt a tug of sympathy. "You look like you need a cuppa."

"You travel with the Doctor?" Sarah Jane asked as she boiled the kettle. Wilf pulled the fob watch out of his pocket.

"No. Not unless you count to hell and back."

"Is that literal or metaphorical?"

The question surprised him, and he paused. "Both." He ran a thumb over the watch, trying to calm down.

"Where's the Doctor?" Sarah Jane brought two mugs of tea over and placed one in front of him.

"Zonked out in his room. He won't wake for hours yet. Thanks."

"Well, what do you need help with? I have experience with all manner of alien problems," Sarah Jane said, taking a sip of tea.

"Not that stuff," Wilf said, putting the watch away. "I need advice from someone who knows him."

"The Doctor?" Sarah Jane paused. "I don't think anyone really knows him."

"Yeah, I was afraid you were gonna say that," Wilf mumbled.

"Just tell me the problem."

Wilf wondered how to phrase it. How could he possibly sum up the last few days? The horror, the sorrow, the conflict, the climax, the panic, the confusion …

"He tried to kill himself."

Sarah Jane dropped her mug. "What?" She didn't even seem to notice the tea puddle spreading. "Are—are you sure? The Doctor wouldn't—I mean, he'd never—"

"I'm sure," Wilf said grimly. He pulled the note out of his pocket and unfolded it.

"I'm tired of outliving everyone I meet," he quoted. "And I don't want to lose any more family. So I'm going to put an end to all that."

"I can't believe it." Sarah Jane sat back, shocked. "He really … What else does it say?"

Wilf swallowed as he read the rest. "Lot of personal stuff." He folded the letter up more carefully and replaced it.

Sarah Jane nodded, still looking bewildered. Wilf decided now was the time to fill her in on the details.

"It wasn't like—I mean, he was planning to come back, of sorts."

"What do you mean? You mean he was only going to regenerate?"

"Not only regenerate," Wilf said. "He was gonna use this." He pulled the watch back out his pocket.

Sarah Jane eyed it warily. "What is it?"

"It turns him human. His plan was to force a regeneration and then use this straight after. He'd lose all his memories, everything that makes him, him."

"But … why?" Sarah Jane shook her head. "That doesn't sound like the Doctor at all."

"I know," Wilf said miserably. "He hasn't been himself lately. Not since Christmas."

"Why, what happened at Christmas?"

TBC …