Chapter Thirteen: Sharing the Burden

"I mean, besides the planet in the sky and everyone losing their memories," Sarah Jane added after a moment.

"Well, among other things, the Doctor had to face a man he was sure was going to kill him, choose not to save his own people, underwent most of a very painful execution, and say goodbye to his mother."

"His mother? I—what?"

"That planet in the sky was Gallifrey," Wilf explained. "He had to send it back into the Time Lock." He paused. "That's the simplified version. I'm still not sure I understand all the mechanics, and I've been in and out that Time Lock meself."

"Oh, poor Doctor," Sarah Jane murmured. "But …"

"He got pulled inside himself," Wilf said shortly. "The Time Lords were gonna kill him so Pennine—his mother—and I got him out."

"My goodness."

"Only just in time, too," Wilf said sadly. "And then she had to go back—" He choked up.

Sarah Jane leaned across and took his hand. "Wilf, you're in shock."

"It hasn't exactly been an easy few days," he replied, the first tear slipping down his cheek.

"Hold on a moment." Sarah Jane went into her living-room and fetched a blanket, which she placed around his shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Wilf. Is it just you and the Doctor in the TARDIS?"

He nodded. "I've tried, Sarah Jane, but I'm out of my depth here. He's just been through too much—not only Christmas; he's been having it rough for a while." Wilf gratefully accepted a tissue and tried to dry his eyes. "I don' know half of what bothers him, and what I do know of, most people wouldn't be able to deal with. I should have seen this coming; why didn't I see this coming?"

"Hush," Sarah Jane said gently, squeezing his shoulders. "It's not your fault."

"But it's my job," Wilf said through his soggy tissue. "I'm supposed to take care of him and I messed everything up."

"Your job? How is it your job?"

"I'm his father."

A stunned silence fell. Wilf gave a tearful chuckle at the look on Sarah Jane's face.

"I … was not expecting that answer." Her expression softened.

Wilf opened his mouth, but his phone began ringing. He wiped his cheeks dry, blew his nose, and answered.

"Dad, we have a problem," Sylvia said without a hello. "Donna wants to come and see you."

"Oh," Wilf responded.

"Oh? Is that all you've got to say for yourself?"

"Well, you just have to stop her."

"I've tried! If I keep making excuses she's going to get suspicious; it's a wonder she isn't suspicious already."

Wilf tried to think. "Just … tell her I didn't leave an address."

"Don't you think I haven't tried that? I expect you'll be getting a call from her asking, and what are you going to tell her?"

"I won't answer."

"Then she'll worry."

Wilf put his head in his hand. "Look Sylvie, I can't deal with this right now. Please, find a way to stop her. Tell her anything, just slow her down till I come home."

"Which will be when?"

He really didn't want to think about that now. Especially since the answer was looking more and more like 'never'.

"I don' know, sweetheart; I really don' know."

"It had better be soon," Sylvia snapped, "because I don't know how long I'll be able to hold madam off."

Wilf hung up without a goodbye. Sarah Jane looked at him curiously. "Everything all right?"

"No," he mumbled. "There's a complication. Were you on the Dalek ship with my granddaughter?"

"Your granddaughter?"

"Donna Noble."

Sarah Jane's eyes widened. "Oh! Yes! She was brilliant—oh," she said, as the meaning impacted. "Didn't the Doctor have to wipe her memory?"

"Yeah. And if she ever remembers him, she'll die. I think that's been a major factor in ... I mean, that's why he planned to regenerate first. So he'd look different, and could be part of the family without risking her remembering him."

"I see," Sarah Jane said softly.

"I just wish I had realised beforehand," Wilf said, staring at the table.

"Well, you stopped him in time, didn't you? That's what matters."

"Yeah, but there's no guarantee when he wakes up he won't try again. And I don't know where I can hide this thing where he won't find it. Besides, what if he's got another?" Wilf sighed. "And just to top it all off, my daughter's insisting I go home before Donna gets suspicious. But I can't leave him on his own, especially not now."

"Oh, Wilfred." Sarah Jane paused. "I'm so sorry, I know you came here for advice, but … I just don't know what to say."

"That's okay." Wilf took a fresh tissue. "It helps a bit, being able to talk about it. I was going nuts in that ship on me own."

The Doctor's eyes flickered open, focusing after a moment on his surroundings. He was pleasantly surprised to find himself in bed. He was sure he had fallen asleep in the console room.

Had Wilfred brought him here? The Doctor lifted his head slightly off the pillow, and his mouth twitched as he spotted the old human dozing in the Doctor's favourite chair. He must have brought him here all by himself. The Doctor's admiration for Wilf went up a few more notches.

He raised a hand and brushed his fringe out of his eye, the first twinge of pain of the morning shooting down his shoulder. He grimaced.

At least only the physical pain had started. His mind felt strangely, and pleasantly, numb. Perhaps the emotional part of his brain had overloaded and was taking a while to recharge.

The Doctor couldn't quite recall what had happened. He knew he'd lost his head for a while, but the details were a bit fuzzy. What had he done? He shivered; although he wasn't sure what had actually happened, he could remember the emotional blackness. He hadn't felt anything like that in a long time. Not since the aftermath of the War—he'd managed to keep everything repressed, ever since. Maybe that hadn't been such a good move.

He rubbed his eyes, straining his memory. Something was coming back to him. A list … a note … a watch … arguing with his conscience … reasoning with his father … kneeling on the console room floor, Wilfred gently prising the Master's fob watch from his fingers.

Oh, no. He hadn't. Had he?

Of course he hadn't, the Doctor thought a moment later. He wouldn't remember anything if he had turned himself human.

The rest came back to him, and the Doctor buried his face in his hands, torn between shame, guilt, a fresh wave of pain, and—a small part of him—disappointment that he hadn't succeeded.

What was wrong with him? This wasn't him. With the exception of straight after the War—after which, the Doctor considered, anyone would be driven to it—he had never contemplated anything close to suicide. True, his motivations this time were slightly different—the desire to change, rather than just to end it all—but that hardly mattered. He knew, deep down, it was giving up—the one thing he'd sworn never to do. The whole reason he'd always kept moving. But now he was stuck in a pit, unable to see the way out.

"Dad?" the Doctor whispered. He didn't want to wake Wilf, but he couldn't remember ever wanting to talk to someone more—if only to stop the dark thoughts from returning. He tried speaking properly. "Dad?"

Wilf stirred, opened his eyes, and started awake when he saw the Doctor watching him. "You're awake!"

"Dad?"

"Yeah, my boy?"

The Doctor forced down a lump in his throat. "I—I'm sorry." And he was. Among the guilt for everything else, he knew the last few days must have been hell for Wilf as well. He hadn't exactly made it easy for him. Yet Wilf was still there, and in one piece by the look of things. The guy was tough.

"Sorry? Oh, come here," Wilf said, sounding half-choked. The Doctor hesitated, but Wilf enveloped him again, and he clung on tight. The Doctor fought tears, determined not to start blubbing on his father again. He'd done enough of that for a lifetime.

"Shh, shh." Wilf was at least trying to comfort, even though it was going to take more than a hug or hundreds to relieve the Doctor of his burdens. Still, he wasn't going to stop him.

"I am," the Doctor said thickly. "Sorry, I mean."

"So am I, son, so am I."

The Doctor lost control of his tear ducts on the word 'son' and clutched Wilf tighter. He didn't want the hug to end; he just appreciated someone else take charge, for a change, and comforting him. He'd been denied it for so long until now. It was a powerful thing, that he'd longed for, but been afraid of. And the damage was done—he couldn't let go of Wilf now.

And he knew, at some point, that would become a problem.

TBC …