October 29th, 1999

Now 42-years-old, Mark paused outside the office block and gazed up at the familiar concrete façade. This was where he'd worked for over ten years, starting out as a junior assistant, gradually taking on more and more responsibilities until eventually they'd made him a partner. Or rather, this was where his younger self would be working for the next ten years.

The reception area was just as he remembered; okay, so the walls were a different color, and the sign above the desk read 'Pollard & Boyce', but Ron sat at the desk leafing through a copy of the Daily Mirror as usual. The only difference was that he now had a full head of hair.

Mark approached the desk. "Harold Jones to see Mr. Pollard, five o'clock."

Ron nodded and informed the relevant office on the phone. "They're sending someone down."

A minute later, the internal door opened, and Siobhan emerged.

"Mr. Jones, nice to meet you at last," she greeted, shaking his hand.

Mark couldn't help but smile. Siobhan was still in her early thirties, bright-eyed and fresh-faced.

Siobhan took him up the stairs to Pollard's office. Mark caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass door. He'd taken great care not to look like his younger self. He'd grown a beard, dyed his remaining hair black and, as a finishing touch, wore a pair of tinted sunglasses.

Although he'd spoken to Frank Pollard on the phone numerous times, this would be the first time they'd met in person. Over the last year, Mark had divided his time between New York and Edinburgh, but now he'd decided to move to London, and had purchased a flat in Highgate. He wanted to be nearer to his younger self. Oh, he wouldn't try to speak to him or anything like that, but it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on his progress, from afar. And, more than anything else, Mark longed to see Rebecca again.

"Mr. Pollard is ready for you."

Mark discovered Frank Pollard at his desk, beaming with pride. Even he looked younger than Mark remembered, his cheeks plump and ruddy with health.

"Harold, Harold," Frank greeted. "Overjoyed to finally make your acquaintance, in the flesh, as it were."

"You too," Mark said, taking a seat. "I would've visited earlier, but my business keeps me out of the country."

"Understand entirely." Frank helped himself to a boiled sweet. "Why visit Croydon when you could be basking in the manifold delights of 'the big apple', so to speak? Can I get Siobhan to make you anything? Coffee? Tea?"

"No, I'm fine thanks. You're probably wondering why I've come to see you."

"I must confess to being a little intrigued. Your last 'electronic mail' was most mysterious."

"I'm here to ask a favor."

"A favor?" Frank leaned forward onto his desk. "And what variety of favor might that be?"

"I believe you're recently advertised for a vacancy, for a junior assistant."

"We have."

"But you haven't filled the position yet?"

"We have not, as yet. We have whittled the candidates down to a shortlist, as it were."

"I was wondering if I might make a suggestion. A recommendation. You see, I'm, er, acquainted with one of the applicants, and would be extremely grateful if you'd consider giving them the position."

"Hmm. That is quite a favor to ask."

"I realize that."

"May I ask the name of this person with who you are, shall we say, acquainted?"

"Mark Whitaker."

Frank opened a file on his desk and skimmed through the papers. "Mark Whitaker. Mark . . . Whitaker. Ah, here he is. We interviewed him earlier this week. A personable enough young man, if a little lacking in confidence, but not really in the same league as the other candidates."

"But I think if you were to give him a chance, he'd prove himself more than capable."

"Hmm," Frank mused, inspecting the application. "I suppose he may have potential."

"Look, I'm not asking you to take on someone who can't do the job. I'm just asking you to take him on for a trial period. If it doesn't work out, then you're free to get rid of him. And I'm not suggesting you do him any special favors. Treat him exactly as you would any other member of staff. And in return, I'll continue to put as much business your way as I can."

"This is most unorthodox. But bearing in mind how highly we regard you here at Pollard & Boyce, it would be injudicious, if not unprofessional, of us to overlook such a . . . glowing character reference."

"So you'll give him the job?"

"Yes. For a trial period." Frank made a note on Mark's application with a dramatic flourish.

"There's one other thing."

"Yes?"

"My involvement in this has to remain confidential. As far as Mark Whitaker is concerned, he got this job entirely on merit."

"I see."

"You mustn't mention my name to him. It's vitally important he never finds out about this."

"Discretion is, of course, assured. This lad, is he a relative of yours?"

"Something like that. Let's just say I have great expectations for him."

"With you cast in the role of Magwitch?" Frank chuckled. "Was there anything else?"

"No. That's everything." Mark made his farewells and left, having ticked one more item off the list.

~The Pros and Cons of Silence~

October 31st, 1999

"No milk, I'm afraid," Mark said, handing Rebecca a mug of tea. She was too tired to care. Her back ached, her fingers ached, her feet ached. But at least it was all over.

Well, the actual moving part of the move was over. In terms of furniture, all their new front room had to offer was a battered leather sofa, an Ikea chair, and Mark's portable television. Cardboard boxes filled the floor, piled four high, leaving only a narrow route from the sofa to the door. They'd all have to be unpacked, but that could wait. For now, Rebecca just wanted it to be over.

Oh, it was exciting. Not just moving to London's glamorous Camberwell but moving in with Mark. It made things official in some way. For the last year, they'd basically been living together anyway, but then she'd got the job at Imperial College, so since September she'd been sleeping on a futon at Lucy and Emma's, with Mark coming down on the weekends to go flat-hunting.

And now here they finally were. Drinking black tea in their own flat. Rebecca leaned back in her chair as she watched Mark fiddle with the aerial. It was the last episode in the second season of Cold Feet, and it was vitally important that they didn't miss it.

Mark's mobile phone bleeped. "Hello, yes? . . . Yes, that's right." He winced apologetically to Rebecca. "No, it's fine, I wasn't in the middle of anything. Um. . ." He fell silent as the person on the other end of the line spoke for several minutes. "Thanks. Thanks for letting me know. . . Yes, and you too. Goodbye." He switched off the phone and looked at Rebecca.

"What was that?"

"I got it," Mark replied at last. "I got the junior assistant job, with Pollard & Boyce."

"You got it?"

"I'm on a trial period for the first three months, but . . . yes." Mark sounded like he could hardly believe his good fortune. "I start on the eighth."

Despite all her aches, Rebecca hauled herself off the sofa and hugged him. "I knew it, I knew they'd take you on. What did I tell you? Oh, ye of little faith. Well now we have a second reason to celebrate!" Rebecca headed into the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was empty apart from the bottle of champagne she'd placed there earlier. She couldn't find any glasses, so she rinsed out a couple of chipped mugs before returning to the living room. "Champagne in mugs, I'm afraid. Truly we live the life of decadence."

"Start as you mean to go on," Mark dryly observed.

Rebecca peeled off her jumper, wrapped it around the bottleneck, and popped the cork. Then she chugged the wine into the mugs and passed one to Mark. "There you go," she said, lifting her mug. "To our new flat, and your new career as a top-flight city lawyer."

"Hardly that," Mark objected. "God. Our new flat. Moving in together."

"Yeah. Serious stuff." Rebecca sipped the champagne, feeling the tickle of the bubbles on her tongue. "All grown-up and everything."

"We'll be getting married next," Mark said light-heartedly.

Rebecca snorted with laughter. "What?"

"Well, it is, isn't it? The next logical step?"

"Is this you proposing to me?"

"No." Mark took a small box out of his jacket pocket and knelt before Rebecca on one knee. He opened the box to reveal a glittering diamond ring. "This is me proposing to you."

~The Pros and Cons of Silence~

A section of the TARDIS console exploded in a shower of sparks. The floor jolted and shuddered, threatening to throw Alex to the ground. "Doctor!" she yelled as she held on for dear life to a section of console. "What's happening?"

They'd only left Rome ten minutes earlier and had barely taken off before the TARDIS had started making a warping, grinding noise and everything in the control room that wasn't fixed in place started falling over.

"More wibbliness in the space-time continuum, right?" Rory guessed, picking himself up from where he'd fallen to the floor.

The Doctor danced around the console, flicking switches, his forehead furrowed in concentration. "More wibbliness. Yes," he confirmed. "The fourth of November. The year 2000."

"Another one of the items on Mark's list?" Amy suggested as she clung to the back of the jumpseat.

"There wasn't an item on his list for November 2000."

"But that means—" Rory started.

"It means our friend isn't behaving himself." The Doctor banged the console and whooped as it began to make the familiar materialization sound. "Trouble, here we come!"

~The Pros and Cons of Silence~

November 4th, 2000

Pressing her lips together to remove any excess lipstick, Rebecca studied her reflection in the mirror one last time, looking for flaws. She couldn't find any. Amanda, the beautician, stood behind her, smiling proudly. "Oh, you look perfect."

Rebecca checked her hair, which had been painstakingly curled into ringlets and pinned. Then, as though balancing a book on her head, she stood up. She desperately wanted to take a deep breath, but the corset of her wedding dress wouldn't allow it. Everything had been squeezed and tightened for maximum effect.

She turned to look at Lucy and Emma in their identical, peach-colored bridesmaid outfits. She'd rather enjoyed the idea of forcing Lucy into something feminine for once.

There was a knock at the door. "Respectable?" Rebecca's father called.

"No, but come in anyway," Rebecca replied. Her father walked in with an embarrassed smile, resplendent in his morning suit, and paused as he took in his daughter's transformation.

"My little girl," he beamed. For a moment she thought he was going to say how proud he was of her, but in the way he was looking at her, there was no need. "Feeling nervous?"

"No. I'll be glad when it's all over, though, if only because then people will stop asking me that. Because if there's one thing guaranteed to make you nervous, it's people asking you if you're nervous all the time."

"I won't pay attention to that," her father said to the others. "That's just the nerves talking. The, um, cars are outside, if you're ready?"

"Here goes, then." Once again, Rebecca wished she could take a deep breath. She turned to go, then halted in the doorway. "Bouquet!" She grabbed the bundle of lilies from the dressing table. "Would've been a complete disaster if I'd forgotten that."

~The Pros and Cons of Silence~

A harsh wind blew across the graveyard, whirling up the leaves as it went. Fearing it would damage his meticulously tousled hair, Mark retreated into the church porch.

Mark's task, along with his best man Gareth, had been to greet the wedding guests as they made their way up the path to the church. It had been very disconcerting to see his colleagues from work, his friends from university, and his mates from the pub quiz all in their finest suits and dresses. It felt like he was starring in a romantic comedy.

"Wassup?" Gareth said, slapping Mark on the back. "Still not too late to do a runner."

"Very funny," Mark deadpanned, wishing, not for the first time, that he'd chosen a different best man.

Gareth checked his watch. "Twenty minutes. Time you were heading inside, just in case they get here early."

"Yeah," Mark replied, rubbing the fingers of his right hand. They were beginning to tingle.

~The Pros and Cons of Silence~

"Well?"

"He's here, Amy," the Doctor confirmed, absorbed in his wibble-detector. "Somewhere. Somewhere close and getting closer all the time."

Amy brushed her hair out of her eyes. The TARDIS had brought them to Chichester, a well-preserved city with enough Georgian buildings, Roman walls, and leafy parks to look picturesque; every other shop seemed to sell antiques or cream teas. Despite the gutsy weather, the pavements bustled with shoppers, mostly families and slow-moving pensioners. It reminded Amy of Leadworth, but with more traffic. Way more traffic.

The Doctor halted, spun on his heel, then ran back the way they'd come, bounding towards the cathedral, bouncing along like a gazelle with rubber legs. "Quick!"

Amy, Rory, and Alex exchanged glances and chased after him. The Doctor stopped again, shook the detector, then gawped at the approaching traffic. An SUV sped down the street towards them. It took Alex a few seconds to recognize the driver; it was Mark, his face half-hidden behind a beard and sunglasses.

"Stop!" the Doctor yelled, striding into the road in the path of the car, hands raised.

I am going to kill him! Alex thought angrily. Seriously, again?! Twice in one day?! I mean it this time!

Thankfully, the SUV screeched to a halt. This was followed by a second screech, a loud crash, and then the tinkle of broken glass as another vehicle slammed into the back of the SUV.

Old Mark emerged from the car, slamming the door angrily behind him. "What the . . . what are you doing here?"

"Hold on to that thought," Alex ordered, striding over to the Doctor. Once she was right in front of him, she didn't hesitate in slapping him right across the face.

"Ow!" the Doctor cried, clutching his reddening cheek. "What was that for?!"

"What the hell do you think it was for, you idiot?! You could've gotten killed! You leapt out into a car's path, AGAIN! After you promised me you wouldn't!"

"Uh, actually, no, I didn't. You see, you went on for twenty minutes about how I shouldn't jump in front of cars paths. I never explicitly promised I wouldn't do so again."

"Enough with the domestics!" Mark snapped, knowing he'd better cut in before the two got into a full-on row. "Now, what are you all doing here?"

The Doctor and Alex exchanged a look. On the same page as usual, both silently agreed to drop the matter and focus on the situation at hand. "We could ask you the same question," the Doctor retorted. "In fact, I am asking you the same question. What are you doing here?"

"Driving along quite happily until some maniac ran in front of me."

Alex studied Mark's face, looking for any sign that he was hiding something. "The Doctor's wibble-detector detected wibbliness," she informed him. She narrowed her eyes accusingly. "Are you trying to contact your younger self?"

"No," Mark protested. "No, of course not."

"Interesting," the Doctor mused. "Because the wibble-detector never lies. Unless it's malfunctioning, which is always a possibility."

"Is it malfunctioning?" Alex asked dryly. It was a distinct possibility, knowing the Doctor.

He glared at her. "No! Not in this case! I can feel the build-up of potential time energy. Makes all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. And tastes of lemons."

"So where were you going?" Rory asked, reminding them that the Ponds were still there.

Before Mark could explain, the driver of the car behind him walked up to them. He was an overweight, colonel-ish man dressed in a chauffeur's uniform. Behind him, Alex could see a limousine with shattered headlights and a crumpled hood.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" the driver yelled.

"I'm sorry," Mark apologized. "It wasn't my fault, this—"

He was cut off as the doors of the limousine opened. Out stepped a man of 60 in a gray morning suit with neatly combed white hair, followed by the blonde girl Alex had seen in Rome, now impeccably made up and wearing a stylish bridal gown.

The bride marched towards them, huffing with the effort, holding her high-heeled shoes. "I don't believe it. I don't chuffing believe it!"

"What? What's the matter?" the Doctor asked. Then his eyes widened. "Wait! Are you getting married?" Beside him, Alex groaned and shook her head.

"Of course I'm getting married! This is my wedding day! Or at least it was meant to be before it turned into an episode of the Chuckle Brothers." The Doctor felt a sense of Deja-vu, remembering how Donna had reacted when he asked if she was getting married following her sudden appearance in the TARDIS.

The Doctor took Mark to one side, Alex following them. Once they were out of discernible earshot, he whispered, "Oh no. You weren't. Your own wedding. The list you showed me, of all the times you could intervene in your past? This wasn't on the list! Do you know what you've done? You've gone off-list!"

"I wasn't going to intervene," Mark protested. "I only wanted to stand at the back and watch."

"Yes, because that's so much better," Alex deadpanned.

"Stand at the back and watch?" The Doctor waggled his fingers in frustration. "What have I told you? Paradoxes! Angels! Ramifications! Why do humans never do as they're told? Someone should replace you all with robots."

"Sorry to interrupt," Rebecca unapologetically called over. "Did I just hear you say you were on your way to a wedding?"

"Yes, that's right," Mark replied. "Saint Stephen's, in a village called Chilbury. It's for a couple, Mark Whitaker and Rebecca Coles."

"But that . . . that's my wedding!" Rebecca exclaimed. "You're on your way to my wedding?"

"You're Rebecca Coles?" Mark cried, feigning surprise. "What a coincidence!"

Too much of a coincidence. More like odd, Alex thought, studying Mark carefully. Mark had never mentioned having a wife before. She glanced down at his hand. No wedding ring. Also odd. If Mark had a wife, why would he decide to stay in the past instead of returning to 2011 and her? He said in the future he didn't have a lot to live for, that living in the past was his second chance. Why would he say that if he had a wife? Divorce? Alex tilted her head in consideration. It was a possibility. But then why would Mark be going to his wedding to her? Does he still love her? That made a certain amount of sense. Maybe Mark thought that by living in the past, he could get his past self to win Rebecca back. It wasn't too far-fetched of an idea.

Or . . . something bad had happened to Rebecca and Mark thought he could prevent it. Alex gulped. She was pretty sure she had hit the nail on the head. Why else would Mark stay in the past if he thought he could prevent his wife from dying? Alex nibbled her lip. She couldn't say anything right now, and it wasn't like Mark would confirm it anyways.

The Doctor looked down at Alex. She had her thinking face on, the one where her brain was digesting facts very quickly, connecting the dots to get to a certain conclusion. Her eyes were on Mark, studying him as a scientist studies a new type of bug. The Doctor caught her eye and raised his eyebrow in a silent question.

Alex's expression read, I'll tell you later. They didn't often communicate like this, instead preferring to bounce stuff off one another, but it was quite handy. It was clear to the Doctor that Alex couldn't tell him right now, not while there were so many people around, particularly Mark.

Silently accepting this, he turned back to Mark and Rebecca. "Well, there we are, small world!" he declared. He clapped his hands. "So if, um, Harold here could move his car, you can be on your way, and get married, just as you should."

"Not gonna happen." The chauffeur shook his head, indicating the damaged limousine. "Can't drive with it like this, the insurance won't cover it."

"Oh, fantastic," the Doctor groaned, slapping his palms on the hood of Mark's car. "Fantastic!"

"Look," Mark jumped in. "Since I'm going there anyway . . . maybe I could give you a lift?"

"A lift! It gets better!" the Doctor cried to the heavens.

"I don't suppose I have any choice," Rebecca said. "If I'm not going to be late."

"Oh, I'm sure a small delay won't hurt," the Doctor said hurriedly. "Bride's prerogative. Make him sweat. What's fifteen minutes in the grand scheme of things?"

Mark took the Doctor, Alex, Amy, and Rory to one side. "But she wasn't late," he told them firmly.

"What?"

"She arrived bang on time."

"Are you sure?"

Alex rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure he'd remember his wedding day, Doc." Mark nodded along with her.

The Doctor thought for a moment, weighing up the situation. "Right! Everyone into . . . Harold's car. No time to lose, we have a wedding to attend! You're the father of the bride, I take it? Isn't she beautiful? I'd marry her myself if I wasn't already with Ally here." He wrapped an arm around Alex's shoulders. "In you go!"

Mark opened the side doors of his car, and Rebecca and her father piled inside.

"Sorry, what are you doing?" Rory asked. "Isn't this changing history?"

"No. If Rebecca is late for her wedding, that's changing history," the Doctor explained. "We have to get her to the church on time!"

~The Pros and Cons of Silence~

"So, if you don't mind me asking, who are you?" Rebecca asked, her shoes in her lap. There was something strangely familiar about the five strangers, particularly the guy in the driver's seat. Take away the beard and twenty years or so and he'd have been a dead ringer for Mark.

"A relative," he replied. He even sounded like Mark. "On Aunt Margaret's side. From Canada."

The young man to her right with the large nose and gormless expression groaned for no apparent reason. The brunette girl next to him shook her head and gave the car roof an exasperated expression. "You're from Canada? All of you?" Rebecca asked.

"No," the brunette answered. "At least, I'm not." That certainly made sense. She sounded American, Southern going by her accent.

"The other three are," the guy in the driver's seat elaborated. "A small place, about fifty miles north of Toronto. I'm Harold Jones, this is the Doctor, Alex, Amy, and Rory."

Rebecca considered. Mark's mother had mentioned something about having relatives in Canada. It would explain the resemblance.

"You don't um, sound very Canadian, if you don't mind me saying," Rebecca's father commented.

"No, but that's just it, you see," Amy said, fishing for a plausible explanation. "We Canadians often don't. It's one of the most interesting things aboot us."

"So, who exactly invited you to my wedding?" Rebecca inquired.

"We just happened to be in the country and Mark's mother invited us, as a last-minute thing," Harold answered. "Not a problem, is it?"

"No. In fact, it's lucky you were here. Although, thinking about it, if you hadn't been here, I wouldn't have crashed into you in the first place."

"Funny how things work out," the Doctor countered as the car came to a halt. At the junction ahead, the traffic lights were on red. "How are we doing for time, Mar- marvelous Harold?"

"Five minutes to one. We're not gonna make it. Not in this traffic."

"Leave that to me." The Doctor dug into his jacket and pulled out what appeared to be a large electric toothbrush. He leaned out of the window and aimed it at the traffic lights. It buzzed and in an instant the traffic lights turned to green.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the Doctor grinned manically. "Drive!"

~The Pros and Cons of Silence~

Mark sat between his mother and Gareth in the front-row pew. The air in the church smelt of stone and furniture polish. He stared at his shoes, so shiny he could actually see his reflection. "What time is it now?"

"Five minutes to," Gareth told him. "God, I hope she hasn't done a runner."

Mark's phone beeped. He had a message from Lucy and Emma, saying they'd been caught in traffic, but they'd be there in five minutes, followed by four exclamation marks and a smiley.

Mark's mother took his hand, and she gave it a squeeze. "Don't worry. She'll be here on time. I feel sure of it."

~The Pros and Cons of Silence~

Mark pulled up in the country lane outside the church, right behind Lucy and Emma's limousine. The Doctor, Amy, Alex, and Rory jumped out of the car, instantly regretting it as they landed in deep puddles. While Alex furiously brushed water off her bare legs, Rory gallantly helped Rebecca onto the grass verge. "Careful. It's seriously muddy out here."

Mark couldn't take his eyes off Rebecca. She looked so perfect. How many times had he summoned up the memory of her on their wedding day? And now here she was, living and breathing, a memory made flesh. He'd even talked to her. Hearing her voice for the first time in fifteen years, seeing her so full of hope and excitement, Mark felt both an immeasurable joy and an immeasurable sadness. Every second he fought the urge to tell her who he really was and what would happen to her one night in April 2003. But that would have to wait.

He climbed out of the car to join them, taking care to avoid the puddles. How many times had he come to this church? Once to rehearse the wedding, once for the wedding itself, and then countless times to visit Rebecca's grave. From the roadside, he could see the empty patch of grass where it would one day lie, in the shade of an old, gnarled yew tree.

Rebecca's father passed Rebecca her shoes and, leaning on the lychgate, she twisted her feet into them. "All done. What time is it now?"

"Fifteen minutes past," her father informed her, indicating the clock on the church tower. "But don't worry, it's not as if they're going to start without you."

"Fifteen minutes?" Amy repeated. "But I thought. . ."

The Doctor licked a finger and held it to the air. "History is shifting course," he grimly announced as a blue light flashed across the gravestones. The same kind of light Mark had seen in Rome and the students' union. There was a tension in the air, like before a thunderstorm, and was it his imagination, or was it getting dark?

"So you were telling the truth," Alex sighed. "She did arrive at the church on time."

"What are you talking about?" Rebecca demanded. "I'm only fifteen minutes late, it's not the end of the world."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." The Doctor made a decision. "Desperate situations require desperate solutions. Wait here, all of you, I'll be back before you know it." He clambered into the driving seat of Mark's car, revved the engine, and accelerated into the road. Seconds later, he disappeared from view, no doubt about to terrify local traffic.

"Where does he think he's going?" Rory cried, flabbergasted. "Thanks, Doctor, leaving us in the lurch outside the . . . church! You know, girls, I think he's really flipped this time."

"Don't be so sure of that, Rory," Alex smiled. She crossed her arms and smirked victoriously, already having figured out what the Doctor was doing.

"Look, you can stand here if you like, but I have a wedding to go to," Rebecca told them. She took her first determined steps towards the church. "I think I've kept my future husband waiting long enough—"

"Wait!" Mark cried. Rebecca paused. The leaves on the path swirled upwards as though caught in a gust of wind, and, with a grinding, whinnying sound, the Doctor's blue police box appeared on the path directly in front of her.

The door creaked open, and the Doctor emerged. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get in!"

"What's going on?" Rebecca chattered, staring at the Doctor and his blue box in disbelief. "What is that thing? And what is it doing here?"

"Just a short hop," the Doctor beamed, patting the police box like it was an old friend. "Same place, twenty minutes ago. Oh, and don't worry, there's plenty of room for all of us."

"I'm sorry. Are you saying that's some sort of vehicle?"

"I assure you there's nothing to be scared of. Do I look like the sort of person who would kidnap a bride, on her wedding day, in a police box?"

"Yes."

"It's all right," Amy assured her. "You can trust the Doctor."

"But I'm late for my own wedding—"

"Just take a look inside," Rory urged. "I mean, if you're already late, what difference does one more minute make?"

The Doctor stepped out of the way to let Rebecca see into the police box.

"But, but that's impossible!" Rebecca stammered in awe. "It's like there's a whole house in there. . ."

Mark, Rebecca, and her father stepped into the TARDIS control room, looking around in shock and awe.

"This is your transport?" Mark exclaimed.

Rory sympathized with them. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world, to step from the normal world into a time machine housed in another dimension. The Doctor's choice of décor didn't make it any easier, the center of the chamber being taken up with a cross between an avant-garde brass sculpture and a child's activity center.

The child in this case being the Doctor. He darted around the console, entirely in his element. Rory had a theory that at least half the buttons on the console didn't actually do anything and the Doctor only pressed them because they made an interesting noise.

"You know," Rebecca said to her father, "I don't think these people actually are Mark's relatives."

Rebecca's father nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised if they weren't from Canada at all."

A grinding sound filled the chamber, the central column of the console coming to a rest as the Doctor bounded down the steps to throw open the main doors. "Here we are!"

Rory followed the Doctor, Amy, Alex, Mark, Rebecca, and her father outside. The TARDIS had landed on the village green opposite the church. They'd moved about a dozen meters.

The Doctor checked the clock tower. "Five minutes to one." He grinned at Rebecca. "A little bit early, but now you'll be able to make it to the church, bang on schedule."

"Sorry? You're saying we've gone back in time?" Rebecca cried.

"Only a little bit," the Doctor said, hardly calming Rebecca down any. He casually leaned against the TARDIS. "It'll hardly notice."

"Er, Doctor," Rory interjected. "Are you sure this isn't cheating?"

"No." The Doctor looked quite offended at the question. He straightened his bowtie. "It's the opposite of cheating. It's enforcing the rules. That's what I do. That's my thing." He clapped, then returned his attention to Rebecca and her father. "Well, no time like the present, in you both go."

Rebecca was about to cross the road when suddenly a heavy goods lorry thundered down the lane, its horn blaring. Rebecca stepped back onto the village green but, as the lorry passed by, its wheels sluiced up the puddles, splashing muddy water all over her dress.

Everybody waited until the lorry had gone before speaking. "Whoops," Amy cringed sympathetically. "I'm sure it'll dry-clean off."

Rebecca looked down at her mud-splattered skirt. She breathed in as much as she could and said, "I'm supposed to be getting married! In three minutes time!"

The Doctor took Mark to one side, Alex once again following them. "I don't suppose, by any chance, when she turned up at the wedding, she was like this, was she?"

Mark shook his head.

"Sort of thing you'd remember?" Alex guessed.

Mark nodded.

"Right!" the Doctor declared. "All of you, wait here, don't move an inch." He ruffled his hair, then darted back into the TARDIS, slamming the door behind him. The lamp on top of the police box flashed, and with a whirl of wind, it disappeared from view, only to reappear a second later. The door swung open to reveal the Doctor holding up a brand-new wedding dress, identical to the one Rebecca was wearing.

"Took me a while to find the shop where you'd bought the dress and get them to run up an exact copy, but I got there in the end. Thinking about it, I really should've asked you which shop it was before I left. Ooh, that Samantha does go on, doesn't she? Anyway, there you go." The Doctor offered Rebecca the dress. "Problem?"

"Yeah, slightly," Rebecca confirmed through gritted teeth. "Firstly, if you think I'm changing into it standing here in the road, you've got another think coming."

"Oh, I'm sure you've got nothing to be embarrassed about," the Doctor smiled benignly. Alex sighed and immediately whacked the back of his head. "Ow!" he cried, shooting her a look.

"Sorry about him," Alex said to Rebecca. "I believe what he meant was that you're welcome to change in the TARDIS." She held open the doors of the police box. She eyed Rebecca's dress, her gaze lingering on the corset. "How long did it take you to get laced into that thing?"

"Half an hour," Rebecca replied.

"Half an hour?" The Doctor was aghast. "Half an hour?"

"Beauty hurts, Doc," Alex replied calmly. She grabbed Rebecca's hand and led her into the TARDIS, snatching the spare dress from the Doctor along the way. "Don't worry, we'll have plenty of time in here."

"If you say so." Rebecca had to admit, she rather liked this Alex. She seemed far more sympathetic than her boyfriend, though the two did make a cute couple.

The Doctor followed them inside, still muttering about taking half an hour to get into a dress. The remaining group on the sidewalk watched as the lamp on top flashed and the TARDIS vanished, then reappeared a moment later. The doors swung open to reveal Rebecca in her brand new, perfectly clean wedding dress, Alex and the Doctor behind her.

The Doctor checked the road for traffic. "Okay. Safe to cross. Got everything?"

"I think so." Rebecca turned to her father, who was regarding the proceedings with utter bafflement. "My bouquet!" she suddenly screamed in horror. "I left it in the limo!"

Alex turned to Mark. "I'm guessing she had it at the wedding?"

"Yes. She threw it, Lucy caught it."

"Right!" the Doctor cried in frustration, disappearing into the TARDIS. It vanished and reappeared. He emerged brandishing Rebecca's bundle of lilies. He thrust the bouquet into her hands. "Anything else?"

Rebecca shook her head.

"Then let's get you married." The Doctor led Rebecca, her father, Amy, Rory, Alex, and Mark across the road. After they'd gone through the lychgate and were halfway up the path to the church, the Doctor stepped in front of Rebecca and her father, forcing them to stop. "One last thing."

"What?" Rebecca cried.

The Doctor stared at Rebecca intently, touching her forehead with his fingers, and spoke in a steady, hypnotic tone. "You will have no memory of this, of meeting me, Alex, Amy, Rory, or Harold. As far as you're concerned, you came here in your limousine, without incident."

"We . . . we came here in our limousine," Rebecca hesitantly repeated.

"Good, good," the Doctor praised. He then repeated the process with Rebecca's father.

"We came here in our limousine," Rebecca's father confirmed.

"Excellent. Now, when I click my fingers, I want both of you to wake up, make your way into that church, and have the most wonderful day of your lives." The Doctor clicked his fingers and jumped out of the way.

Rebecca twitched, blinking as though waking up. Then she saw her father beside her. He was looking around with a puzzled expression, then turned to her and said, "Ready?"

Rebecca nodded, took her father's arm, and they headed up the path to the church.

But something wasn't quite right. As they reached the porch, Rebecca released her father's arm and glanced back at the graveyard, down the path to the road where five people stood by the gate. She couldn't see their faces, but one of them seemed to be dressed as an old-fashioned professor. He had a hand resting on the shoulder of a brunette with blonde highlights, dressed in shorts and a simple shirt. Honestly, it was November. Who dressed like that in November?

There was a squeal of tires as a limousine pulled up outside. Lucy and Emma tumbled out in a flurry of skirts and swearing. They jiggled their shoes onto their feet and stumbled up the path towards her. "Sorry!" Lucy said breathlessly. "Traffic was literally insane."

"You're here now, that's the main thing," Rebecca told them.

"I think it's time," Rebecca's father gently reminded her, offering her his arm.

"Ready," Rebecca said, taking one last look back at the graveyard. She'd been coming to this church ever since she was a little girl, and she'd never noticed how many statues of angels there were before.

Amy felt a warm glow as Rebecca, her father, and her two peach-colored bridesmaids disappeared into the church. Amy checked the clock. It was one o'clock exactly. They'd made it.

Mark began striding purposefully up the path to the church. "Mark!" the Doctor and Alex shouted after him.

"Where do you think you're going?" the Doctor demanded.

"I told you. To stand at the back and watch. It won't do any harm."

"Won't do any harm?" the couple snapped.

"After everything I've told you," the Doctor glared, "everything we've been through?"

"It won't do any harm, I know it." Mark turned to continue up the path.

Two statues blocked his way. Two statues of angels, standing solemnly in front of the church, their hands cupped beneath their faces, their eyes as blank as stone.

"The Angels!" Amy gasped. "They were here all the time!"

"Attracted by the wibbliness," Rory explained, for his own benefit if no one else's.

"Mark!" the Doctor shouted. Mark was frozen to the spot in terror. Amy glanced away from him – to see four more statues in the graveyard, one crouched by a tomb, lowering its hands, one emerging from behind a grave, the other two rising from either side of a war memorial.

The Angels were too spread out for Amy to see them all at once. Trying her best not to blink, Amy turned to face the Angels by the church. They had moved closer to Mark, paused as they stalked towards him, hands raised above their heads, their fingers extended like claws.

Mark staggered backwards, tripping over his own feet. Amy dragged her eyes away from him to check on the other four Angels. They had advanced towards Mark as though to cut off any lines of escape, forcing him to retreat down the path towards the road.

"They're trying to stop him getting into the church," Amy realized. "Why are they doing that, if they want him to cause a paradox?"

"Yeah," Rory said sarcastically. "That was my major concern too."

The Doctor dashed up to Mark and grabbed him by the arm. "Quick!" he ordered, dragging Mark away from the Angels. "Amy, Rory, Alex, keep looking at them, try not to blink!" He guided Mark back over to the lychgate. Mark's eyes were wide with fear. He'd been scared out of his wits.

And then Amy realized she wasn't looking at the Angels. And nor was Rory. Or Alex, who was busy checking the Doctor to make sure he was alright. Then, realization crossed her currently light green eyes. The girls spun back to see that four of the Angels had continued down the path towards them, their bodies contorted with anger, their mouths caught in silent screams. But if they could only see four of them, that meant there were two they couldn't see.

"Into the TARDIS!" the Doctor commanded. "Fast as you can!" The girls didn't need telling twice. Amy and Alex sprinted through the lychgate, paused to check there was no traffic in the road, then splashed – well, Amy splashed; Alex hopped over – through the puddles to the TARDIS. Thankfully, the Doctor had left the doors unlocked.

Rory, the Doctor, and Mark hurried in after them. The Doctor bolted the door shut and darted over to the console. In seconds, the arduous groaning of the TARDIS take-off filled the air.

"They were waiting for us," Alex exclaimed. Her voice shook slightly with fear, a rarity for her. She went over to the Doctor, and he immediately enveloped her into his arms, running his fingers through her hair reassuringly. She tightened her arms around his waist as realization bombarded her brain. "They were expecting us."

~The Pros and Cons of Silence~

Gareth tapped his spoon on his glass. "Groom's speech!"

Mark took one last sip of his water and stood up in front of everyone he knew.

The function room of the Grand Hotel fell silent. All of Mark's friends were there: Emma and Lucy, actually wearing dresses; Rajeev, flown over especially; Gareth, who had turned out to have unexpected depths; Siobhan from work, at a table with Mr. Pollard and Mr. Boyce, the two solicitors trying to outdo each-other with the size of their buttonholes; Rebecca's parents, giving him approving, encouraging looks. And to his left, his mother, smiling for the first time in ages. And finally, to his right, Rebecca. His wife. Looking more elegant and glamorous than he'd ever dreamed possible.

Mark's hand trembled so much he could barely hold onto his speech. On top of that, his hand had started tingling again, like he was holding a battery. The feeling had been coming and going all day.

"Hello," he nervously greeted. "I've just got married. I'm a happily married man." There was a ripple of encouraging laughter. "This'll be a short speech, you'll be glad to hear, because I'm sure we're all dying to find out why Gareth has set up a slide projector. But, as is traditional, I have to thank a few people.

"Firstly, I should thank my best man, Gareth, for his unwavering support and for his generous offer of a one-way ticket to New Zealand ten minutes before the wedding. I think he was joking. I hope he was joking. I'd also like to thank him for organizing such a magnificent stag do, because unfortunately I didn't get a chance to thank him at the time due to an unexpected bout of food poisoning.

"I'd also like to thank the bridesmaids, Emma and Lucy, for making sure that Rebecca turned up, for which I will be eternally both surprised and grateful. And I'd like to thank Rebecca's parents, Olivia and Rodney, and my mother, Emily, for all their help. This day is a tribute to their kindness and generosity.

"Before I go any further, there's one more person I should mention. The person who sadly couldn't be here, who I wish was here more than anything else in the world, but who I know is here in spirit, and that's my father, Patrick. I miss you, Dad."

Mark paused. He could feel tears forming in his eyes. Because as he'd said those last words, it was like hearing the news of his father's death all over again, thinking of all the things he'd never get to tell him.

Looking across the room, at all the familiar faces lit up in the glow of the chandeliers, something drew Mark's gaze to the far end of the function room where a set of double doors opened onto a stairway. The doors should have been closed for his speech, but instead they were open. There was a man in the doorway, watching him. A man who looked just like his dad.

Mark glanced at his speech, then looked up. The man had gone and the doors at the far end of the function room were closed.

Mark cleared his throat. "And finally, I'd like to thank Rebecca, for everything, basically. For being my best friend, ever since I've known her. For always being there for me. For being a constant source of warmth, of inspiration, of laughter. And for doing me the great honor of agreeing to be my wife." He lifted his glass. "To Rebecca."

~The Pros and Cons of Silence~

The night had turned cold, so they weren't likely to be disturbed in the hotel garden. The picnic tables were still wet from the rain, as Rory had discovered when he'd tried sitting on one. They were also unlikely to be seen, as the only light came from the windows of the TARDIS, parked unobtrusively in the corner, and the windows of the hotel as they flashed in time to the muffled strains of 'Dancin' In The Moonlight'.

Rory couldn't help searching the darkness for signs of a Weeping Angel. The Doctor had assured him that the moment of crisis had passed, and the Angels would now be in hiding, conserving their strength. That's why the Doctor had permitted Mark to watch his younger self delivering his wedding speech. But Rory still had his doubts.

The Doctor gazed into the night, hands in his pockets, looking like he had all the troubles of the universe on his shoulders. "Everything I've told you so far has been wrong," he said suddenly.

"What?" Rory questioned.

"The Angels. They haven't been following Mark in the hope of him creating a time paradox."

"What?" Amy exclaimed.

Alex pulled the Doctor's tweed jacket tighter around her shoulders. He had put it on her when he saw her shivering from the cool night air. It felt exceptionally warm around her and it smelled just like him, with a slight trace of aftershave and his musky cologne. But his words had suddenly made her chilly. She frowned at him. "But they're attracted by the wibbliness," she argued, "like moths to a flame."

"Yes," he agreed. "But not because they wanted him to change his past, but because they wanted to ensure that he didn't."

"Eh?" Rory frowned in confusion. "But I thought you said—"

"Think about it. When we met them at the students' union, they were trying to keep the two Marks apart. The same when we encountered them again in Rome. The same again today."

"But why?" Amy wondered. "Why do that?"

"Because they're working to a plan," Alex breathed. Her light brown eyes were wide in shock. "Something big. Something much, much bigger than Mark just bumping into his younger self."

"Like what?" Mark asked.

Neither the Doctor nor Alex replied. Instead, they looked at Mark. The Doctor eyed him with all the sadness of his nine hundred years. Alex just raised an eyebrow, looking like a schoolteacher waiting for a student to confess to a petty crime. "You tell us, Mark Whitaker," the Doctor spoke. "You tell us."

"I don't know," Mark insisted. "Honestly, I don't."

"I let you see your wedding speech. But that has to be the last time. From now on, steer clear of your past."

"Don't worry," Mark assured him. "After what happened today, if you think I'm going anywhere near my younger self again, you're very much mistaken."

"Good," Alex complimented. Behind her, the Doctor opened the TARDIS doors. "Because if you do try anything, the Angels will be waiting for you."

~The Pros and Cons of Silence~

A/N: Now we know how Mark and Rebecca married! But the Weeping Angels. . . What are they up to?

Also, we hit over a hundred reviews! Thank you guys so, so, SO much! :D

Review Replies:

NicoleR85 - Thank you! Glad you liked it! Lol, no, we're not done with 'Touched by an Angel' yet. There's still a few more chapters to go. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! :)

bored411 - Thank you! The Doctor sending Alex away in times of danger is an interesting aspect of their relationship and we'll be exploring it as the series progresses, as well as how both respond to it. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! :)

whitedwarf - I like Rebecca too! I just love how free-spirited she is, how confident she is and how she doesn't worry about what people think of her. She's basically who I wish I could be, lol. Good catch! I did post Mark's G-Locke comment as a part of my 12 Days of Sneak-Peeks on Tumblr last year. It's not from the end of the book though and he wasn't trying to fool them. He really has been doing well for himself in investing. The perks of knowing the future. :} I have never been to Rome, but I would LOVE to go there. I'd love to see all the sights in the last chapter, especially the Trevi Fountain and the Parthenon. :)

Jojo - It is deliberate that the Doctor and Alex are so comfortable with making out so quickly. Both feel very comfortable around in each-other in ways they haven't experienced with anyone else. I'll try and explore that feeling more later in the story. :)

Thank you to everyone that reviewed, followed and/or favorited this story! Please review and see you tomorrow! :)