Author's Note:

Happy Holidays everyone! Here's wishing everyone the best in whatever holiday they chose to celebrate, or, if you not to celebrate at all, have a lovely Thursday! In honour of the festive season, I give you this chapter! It was meant to be longer but honestly, I'm still finding it very difficult to just sit down and write, which is more than a little irritating. BUT I'm not giving up so please, just bare with me.

On another note, for those of you getting tired of the episode script, there will be a good chunk of original content in the next chapter (which I'm really looking forward to writing!) so stay tuned for that!

Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me despite the stupidly long update time, I really appreciate it. It's you guys who keep me coming back to this story even when life is... less than ideal, so thank you, thank you guys! Now, on with the show!

Happy Reading!

Chapter Fourteen

Seeing Ghosts

"Doctor, run!" Wilfred cried, grabbing Amy's arm and tugging her away from the Dalek and back the way they'd come.

"Wilf!" the redhead struggled against him, eventually breaking free, "What is that thing? What's going on?"

Reaching a hand out towards her, the old man shook his head in disbelief. How could she not recognize it? Its disguise wasn't really that good. "It's a Dalek, Amy," he softly, "Don't let the colour and the belt fool you, it's still a Dalek!" He made another grab for her hand but she pulled it away.

"The Doctor's not leaving," she argued, "It can't be that bad."

Wilf opened his mouth to remind her exactly how bad it really was when he realized, with a jolt, that the girl was right. The Doctor had made no move to get away for the creature before him, in fact he'd taken a few steps closer to the metal casing and weapons which had destroyed so many lives. The old human frowned and strained his ears, trying to make out what was being said.

"What are you doing here?" he heard the Time Lord ask, and Wilfred found himself holding his breath as he awaited the response. However that response, when it came, was not what he was expecting.

"I AM YOUR SOLDIER," the Dalek's robotic voice floated easily across the rooftop.

"What?" Wilf whispered, and the Doctor must have said something similar for the Dalek repeated its statement in exactly the same way as before.

"Stop this," the Time Lord's voice was getting progressively louder now, and therefore easier to hear, "Stop now. Now, you know who I am. You always know..."

"YOUR IDENTITY IS UNKNOWN."

Unknown? How on Earth (or whatever planet Daleks came from, Wilf couldn't honestly say that he knew which one that was) could that metal encased alien fail to recognize its greatest enemy? Perhaps this most recent regeneration had thrown it off, but no, the Doctor seemed to think that he should still be recognizable... But really, what did it matter? Every second the Doctor spent talking to that thing was a second closer to him being exterminated.

"Enough with the small talk," Wilf shouted up at his friend, "C'mon, get out of there already!"

The Doctor ignored him, or perhaps he didn't hear, either way Wilfred was prevented from repeating the warning by the scientist, Bracewell, who chose that moment to speak up.

"Perhaps I can clarify things here," the Scotsmen suggested, moving forward and gesturing towards the Dalek, "This is one of my Ironsides."

This, at least, got the Time Lord's attention and he turned to face the scientist with a disbelieving look on his face. "Your what?"

But Bracewell didn't respond to the question, turning instead to the creature before him and addressing it without a trace of fear. "You will help the Allied cause in any way that you can," he told it firmly.

"YES," came the robotic reply.

"Until the Germans have been utterly smashed!"

"YES."

Bracewell smiled. "And what is your ultimate aim?"

The Dalek's eye stock fidgeted slightly. "TO WIN THE WAR!"

Silence followed the Dalek's statement as everyone took a moment to stare at the metal encased monster, Bracewell with pride, Churchill in appreciation, Amy with confusion and the Doctor and Wilf with nothing but horror.

"You see, Doctor?" said the scientist at last, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife, "My Ironsides will win us the war!"

But the Time Lord was shaking his head, dark hair flopping into his eyes. "No," he said simply, turning away from the creator and his alleged creation before rounding on the Dalek once more, "Why would you degrade yourself?" he hissed, "What is this?"

The Dalek stared at him for a moment before turning its eye stalk on Bracewell. "I WILL RETURN TO MY POST," it announced.

"Yes, yes, carry on," the scientist agreed, waving the creature off.

"Oh, no," the Doctor cut in, making to step back towards his enemy.

"Oh, yes, Doctor," Churchill interrupted sharply, drawing Wilfred's eyes to where he stood, puffing on his cigar, "We'll continue this discussion in my office. Come with me."

"They're Daleks," the Doctor insisted firmly, pushing aside Bracewell's carefully drawn blueprints and leaning forward with his palms rested on Churchill's desk, "They're called Daleks."

"They are Bracewell's Ironsides, Doctor," the prime minister argued, irritation evident in his voice, "Look," he pointed to the same papers the Time Lord had pushed aside, "Blueprints, statistics, field tests, photographs. He invented them!"

But that wasn't right. Wilfred may not be the expert on extraterrestrial life the Doctor was but he did know that a Dalek couldn't be invented any more than a human or a Time Lord could. They weren't machines after all, though most everyone in the room seemed to think that they were.

"Invented them?" the Doctor laughed coldly, "Oh, no, no, no."

"Yes," Churchill countered, "He approached one of our brass hats a few months ago. Fellow's a genius."

"A Scottish genius, too," Amy cut in, adding her two cents with a smirk, "Maybe you should listen to –"

The Time Lord shushed her forcefully and the redhead's face took on a look of surprise and confusion.

Before either one of them had a chance to say anything more, however, Wilf spoke up. "But that's not possible, Prime Minister," he explained as calmly as he could manage, "Daleks aren't machines, sir, they're little creatures in a sort of metal... suit. They can't be invented any more than we can!" He turned to the Doctor for support only to find his alien friend staring at him in shock.

"How do you know that?" he asked softly.

Wilf cursed himself mentally. Of course, the Time Lord wouldn't know that he knew, he hadn't been there at the time. "Rose," he said by way of explanation, "Rose Tyler. She told me when I asked how her gun worked."

"I didn't know you two met..." The Doctor's voice sounded far away.

"Yeah," Wilfred nodded and gripped his friend's arm bracingly, "When they moved the planet. Guess she never got the chance to tell ya, 'cause I'm sure I left an impression!"

The ghost of a smile flitted across the Time Lord's face and he shook his head. "I'm sure," he replied before turning to address the rest of the people in the room, both of whom were staring at them with their eyebrows raised, "Anyway, Wilf's right. Bracewell didn't invent the Daleks. They're alien."

"Alien." Churchill repeated, his eyebrows keeping up their attempt to meet his receding hairline.

A Dalek chose that moment the move past the open door of the prime minister's office and Wilf stood perfectly still out of sheer instinct until it was out of sight.

"And totally hostile," the Doctor added softly.

Churchill nodded once, looking determined. "Precisely," he said firmly, moving aside the blueprints to reveal a propaganda poster adorned with a picture of a Dalek and the words 'To Victory!' "They will win me the war!" And with that he marched out of his office leaving his guests hastening to catch up.

"Why won't you listen to me?" the Doctor cried in exasperation as he finally feel into stride next to the cigar wielding human, "Why did you call me in if you won't listen to me?"

Silently, Wilf agreed. Why had the prime minster called them if he had no intention of taking their concerns seriously? Calling an alien with technology like that at the Doctor's disposal into the middle of a war wasn't something one did on a whim.

"When I rang you a month ago, I must admit I had my doubts," Churchill confessed, as he continued his march down the corridor in which they'd found themselves, "The Ironsides seemed too good to be true."

"Yes," the Time Lord agreed quickly, "Right. So destroy them. Exterminate them!"

Exterminate? Wilf's head snapped towards his alien friend and he stared at him. "What did you say?" he asked softly.

But Churchill, who had obviously paid his fellow human's comment no mind, interrupted before the Time Lord could respond. "But imagine what I could do with a hundred. A thousand!"

"I am imagining," the Doctor returned darkly.

Wilf ignored both of them, he wasn't ready to let his friend's choice of words go that easily. "I mean it, Doctor," he cut in, stepping in front of the alien and bringing him to a halt in front of the central command room which Churchill had just entered, "Why did you say that?"

"Wilf..." the Time Lord sighed impatiently, "Look it's just a word, alright? Just leave it."

"It's their word, Doctor. You are not them!"

Silence fell over them as the two men stared at each other intently for a moment before the Doctor ducked his head and turned away, fixing his attention on his female companion instead. "Amy, tell him."

"Tell who what now?" the redhead asked, confused.

"Winston," the Time Lord clarified, "Tell Winston about the Daleks."

Amy blinked, her look of confusion still firmly in place. "What would I know about the Daleks?"

"Everything," said the Doctor as though it was obvious, and Wilf was struck with the realization that maybe the young woman really hadn't recognized the metal monsters at all, maybe it hadn't been the army paintjob that had thrown her off... "They invaded your world, remember," the Time Lord continued, searching his companions face for any sign of recognition, "Planets in the sky. You don't forget that..."

But the redhead's just shook her head slightly.

"Amy..." the Doctor was staring at her as though seeing her for the first time, "Tell me you remember the Daleks..."

Amy raised her eyebrows and glanced from the Doctor to Wilf then back again. "No," she said cautiously, "Sorry."

The Time Lord stared at her for a moment before turning to Wilfred. "But you remember?"

"Of course," the old man replied.

Both men turned their attention back to their female companion. "Then that's not possible..." the Doctor whispered before turning and hurrying into the same room Churchill had already entered.

Stepping across the threshold into central command room Wilf felt the same cold dread which had overtaken him on the roof strike him in the gut once more. While in the corridor (and ever Churchill's office) he had been able to put aside that fact that they were back in the damned war, the room in which they stood now left no doubt as to their location. Commanding officers came and went, their faces masks of grim determination, while young women handled the radios and strategic maps while ignoring the constant bombardments with practiced ease. It was an ease which Wilfred no longer felt and each bomb strike shook him to the core.

The Doctor pulled both his companions off to one side of the room, out of the way of the chaos, and fixed his eyes on the khaki coloured Dalek moving calmly amid the crowd. "So, they're up to something," he said softly, his eyes never leaving the other alien, "But what is it? What are they after?"

Wilf just shook his head in silence, trying desperately to focus on the problem at hand. The war would be won with or without them, the Daleks however could change that...

"You alright, Wilf?" the Time Lord asked softly, turning his ancient gaze on the elderly human.

Taking a deep breath, Wilf gave him a tight smile. "Fine," he replied as bracingly as he could, "Just fine, really."

"I'm sorry," his alien friend frowned slightly, "I didn't even think before coming here..."

But Wilf cut him off before he could go any further. "It's alright, Doctor, we're both seeing ghosts today but we'll be alright. We will."

The Time Lord nodded once. "Right," he said firmly, "Right. So, what are the Daleks up to?"

"Well, let's just ask, shall we?" Amy suggested and Wilf could hear the undertone of amusement in her voice.

"Amy," the Doctor warned, but the redhead was already making her way quickly towards the Dalek, "Amelia!"

But the young woman ignored him and instead tapped sharply on the Dalek's metal casing.

The creature's eye stalk spun around in response to her action and Wilf flinched slightly as the mechanical eye came to rest on his young companion. The Dalek's gun arm, thankfully, remained motionless. "CAN I BE OF ASSISTANCE?" it asked.

As confident as she had seemed walking up to it, Wilf figured that something about the Dalek must have put Amy off just a bit for there was a beat of silence before she responded. "Oh, yes. Yes. See, my friends reckon you're dangerous," she explained quickly, "That you're an alien. Is it true?"

"I AM YOUR SOLDIER."

"Yeah..." Amy shook her head, while next to him Wilf could see the Doctor pinch the bridge of his nose, "Got that bit. Love a squaddie. What else, though?"

"PLEASE EXCUSE ME," the Dalek replied, well, deflected really, Wilf decided darkly, "I HAVE DUTIES TO PERFORM." And with that the creature moved away, melding into the chaos which filled the room far more seamlessly than should have been possible.

The Time Lord sighed softly and ran a hand over his face as the Dalek disappeared into the crowd but before Wilf could so much as begin to consider what he could say to calm everyone his host had hurried from his side to join Churchill at the map tables.

"Winston," the alien all but pleased, snatching the larger man's cigar out of his mouth snuffing it out on the table, "Winston, please…"

"We are waging total war, Doctor," the prime minister cut across him roughly, gesturing restlessly with his hands, "Day after day the Luftwaffe pound this great city like an iron fist – "

"Wait 'til the Daleks get started," the Doctor interrupted coldly.

But Churchill continued as though no one else had spoken. "Men, women and children slaughtered. Families torn apart. Wren's churches in flame – "

" – Yeah. Try the Earth in flames! – "

" – I weep for my country. I weep for my empire. It is breaking my heart."

"You're resisting, Winston," the Time Lord pointed out, following the prime minister as he made his way around the massive tables, "The while world knows you're resisting. You're a beacon of hope!"

"But for how long?" Churchill asked, and Wilf found himself unsettled by the tinge of desperation in the other man's voice, "Millions of innocent lives will be saved if I use these Ironsides now!"

And speaking of the Ironsides, Wilfred tensed instinctively as a khaki coloured Dalek approached the Time Lord and prime minister from behind.

"CAN I BE OF ASSISTANCE?" the creature asked, causing Churchill to jump slightly.

"Shut it!" the Doctor snarled, pointing threateningly towards the other alien before turning his attention back to the prime minister, "Listen to me. Just listen," he pleaded, "The Daleks have no conscience, no mercy, no pity. They are my oldest and deadliest enemy. You cannot trust them."

But Churchill, it seemed, would not be swayed. "If Hitler invaded hell, I would give a favourable reference to the Devil," he said firmly, "These machines are our salvation." A siren sounded suddenly, cutting the prime minister off and causing him to look skyward in relief. "Oh," he breathed, "The All Clear. We are safe, for now." And with that Winston Churchill marched out of the room.

The Dalek, Wilf noted, remained where it was for a moment, its eye stalk fixed on the Doctor who stared it down with a look of contempt that chilled the old human to the bone until the metal encased creature turned and followed its alleged commander out of the room. Wilfred released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. This was not good. Not good at all. "C'mon," he said softly to Amy, who was still standing beside him, "Let's go."

The two humans made their way over to where the Time Lord stood staring after Churchill and the Dalek with a stormy expression.

"You alright?" Wilf asked softly as they reached him.

But the Doctor did not reply even as he turned to face his companions wringing his hands nervously. "What does hate look like?" he asked them instead.

Amy cocked an eyebrow at the question and Wilf found himself tempted to do the same thing. "Hate?" the redhead questioned.

The Time Lord nodded jerkily. "It looks like a Dalek," he replied, "And I'm going to prove it."