by Cour M.
“I met Wilfred and Donna before, so I have become acquainted with them. Really Doctor, there is no need to sound surprised.”
“Oh come on, you know what I mean. Well, thank you Mickey.”
The Doctor offered Mickey his hand and both men shook the other’s, leaving Twelve to wonder if he would ever see him again.
He then travelled to Chezwick and parked his TARDIS right in front of Donna’s home. Yet as he disembarked from the ship, he found himself looking at the door of the house, but being unable to go any further.
There was the door to his past, a past he tried to forget with how much he had ruined there. Donna had saved him in ways that he could never define, and what was her reward, but to forget it all? Behind that door was a family that in some ways he had let down. Yet Donna was in trouble, and therefore, he placed one foot in front of the other and walked to the door and knocked on it.
Eventually it opened and before him was Mrs. Noble, Donna’s mother.
“Yes?” She asked.
“Hello Mrs. Noble,” Twelve spoke simply, “it’s been a long time.”
“Forgive me, but I am quite sure that I have never seen you in the course of my life.”
“Yes you have. It is just that I had a different face back then. I come for your father.”
“My father?”
“Yes, because it’s me. I am the Doctor.”
When he told her who he was, she did nothing at first.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Right, excuse me for a moment,” Mrs. Noble then went behind the door, opened a closet and then returned, bearing an axe!
“Good god woman!” The Doctor cried, backing away, “I know we didn’t end on the friendliest of terms, but at least just slap me like the rest of the mothers do.”
“You’re not the Doctor!” She cried, bearing it as if she was ready to strike, “And I’m hip to the whole alien thing now. So what are you? You’re not getting to the rest of us for now. I’ve lost too much!”
“Mrs. Noble, I am the Doctor!” Twelve cried, raising up his hands in supplication.
“Get off, no you’re not. You’re old and ugly.”
“What?!” He gasped, lowering his hands in indignation, “Well you can’t talk!”
“I can talk more than you, no doubt.”
“At least my hair is nice.”
“No it’s not. What are you smoking?”
“My dear, stop that!” Came a familiar voice behind her, as an old man suddenly appeared and pulled the axe from her, “What will the neighbors think?”
“This is Chezwick, dad!” Mrs. Noble cried, “Nobody would even notice!”
“True, but still.”
The old man retrieved the axe from her and put it away, then turned to Twelve.
“My god, Wilfred,” Twelve sighed, amazed, “you look almost the same.”
“And you’re the Doctor,” Wilfred magnified, covering his mouth with his hand in awe, “This is what you look like now?”
“Yes, and you aren’t surprised by it?”
“No, oh my boy, come on in!” He hugged the Doctor and Twelve wrapped his arms around the man, happy in his embrace. For one moment, he felt at ease and as if all was right. And then he remembered Clara, and thought of Bill somewhere, and he had to subdue the emotion that was filling up in his eyes. Eventually Wilfred released him, still with his hand on his shoulders.
“So, welcome back to London, sir,” Wilfred laughed.
“It’s good to be back.”
“Good to be home, I bet.”
Twelve smiled sadly at this, and then they all entered the home.
“It’s because of UNIT, you see,” Wilfred explained. “When I needed to contact you, I was able to get ahold of them.”
“How did you do that?”
“Really, Doctor?” Wilfred laughed, “since that bloody star with the Rachnoss thing came down here that one Christmas, blasting away everything, Torchwood never completely loses contact with any of us. I contacted them, they got ahold of UNIT and through them both, I was able to contact Mickey. He’s good, right? He’s returned back to Martha and all?”
“Yes, I believe he has.”
“Good, I would have felt bad if I sent him on a death mission, you know. At my age, it’s my job to always be the one to go first.”
“But how did you know about my face changing?”
“Oh, that,” Wilfred wiped the air with his hand, “Torchwood, they explained that if they brought you back, you would probably have a different face because you regenerated.”
“What are you both on about?” Mrs. Noble cried, “What do you mean by regenerating?”
“I’m a Timelord, Mrs. Noble,” the Doctor said simply.
“Oh, stop talking like I should know what you are speaking about!”
“Right, we Timelords have this trick, this thing where when we die, we can regenerate. We heal ourselves yes, but then that part of us dies practically and we are reborn with a new face, a new body, new everything almost. Except our memories. Of course we are the same man, while also being a different man. Make sense?”
“Not really.”
“Well, that’s the best I can do.”
“Do you ever get to choose what you look like when you change?” Wilfred asked, intrigued.
“We can attempt to. Actually, when I was traveling with Donna after the planets got stolen, I did regenerate. And I chose to come back looking the exact same.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but those were different circumstances. And to be honest, I really did have vanity issues at the time. And pride issues. And selfish issues. And depression issues. And teenage angst issues. Oh you name it, I had it.”
“Now that’s enough of that,” Mrs. Noble cried, “let’s get back to Donna and all that. The sooner the Doctor gets going, the sooner he can get her back.”
“Mickey didn’t tell me much, so I need to know?” Twelve requested, “He said that others were taken.”
“Don’t worry about us not knowing all the details about that,” Wilfred announced, “and we believe that Donna is alive, just taken.”
“What makes you able to say that?”
“Well…”
They were all suddenly interrupted when they heard the sounds of many cars and vans arriving down the street while there also being the sounds of many soldiers barking orders.
“Now what is it?” Mrs. Noble cried.
The Doctor jumped up, ran to the window, pulling out his sonic screwdriver in the process and he saw soldiers emerging from vans and surrounding the house.
And then there was a knock on the door.
“Don’t worry,” Twelve said to Wilfred and his daughter as they stood there, frozen in shock, “I’ll get it.”
Twelve walked up to the door casually, then opened it, and came face to face with head of UNIT, Kate Stewart.
“Kate Stewart!” Twelve said.
“Hello Doctor,” she smiled, “well look on the bright side. At least we knocked this time.”
Twelve could not help but smirk.
“Sorry for the whole storming of London crew,” Kate apologized, while entering before she was asked, “But the generals just could not help themselves. You know how it is when soldiers don’t have much action over the course of a year.”
Kate looked around at Wilfred and Mrs. Noble.
“Sorry,” she added, “perhaps you don’t know.”
“No, they don’t,” Twelve came forward, took Kate’s hand and kissed it.
“What was that for?” Kate asked.
“Just for being you, I suppose. You keep me from getting bored.”
“Well then I have material for you to last for days,” She noted, then she turned to Mrs. Noble, “forgive me, but I was wondering, might I have a spot of tea?”
“Of course,” Mrs. Noble said, “say wha
t you will, let it not be said that I have quite forgotten my manners.”
“This is England,” Kate followed her into the kitchen, “one should never be able to say that.”
Tea was prepared and they all sat down as Kate removed a few folders from her suitcase.
“I take it they told you about Donna’s disappearance.”
“You know about Donna?” Twelve asked.
“Of course I do. It’s my job to be obsessive. But what has been noted is that she is the first of over fifty tourists to be taken from Greece in the last week. After that, over fifty were taken from the London area. The threat moved from there to here.” Kate produced pictures of the others from newspaper clippings. “All being taken without a trace, not even a hair left behind. At first all assumed it was a random kidnapper, until one tourist was walking by and he took a picture of his wife as she posed in front of a statue.”
Even before Kate showed him the picture, Twelve sensed what was to follow, but still he took the picture that she handed to him and looked at the picture of the woman. There behind her was a…
“Yes, Doctor,” Kate replied, “the Weeping Angels are back in London.”
“The husband took the picture, then turned away and his wife was gone,” Kate continued, “No wonder it’s in London, because it’s a much easier hiding place than parts of Greece. The husband went to the police and when he showed the last picture he had of her, someone from the police sent it to us, and then more and more we began to learn that every disappearance had an angel nearby,” she showed more pictures of angels all throughout London and Greece initially.
“That’s what happened to our dear Donna, Doctor,” Wilfred stressed, “because when she was taken, she was spotted near a church, and I distinctly recalled seeing angels perched on it in the picture.”
“But how do we know that they haven’t killed her?” Mrs. Noble asked.
“Usually that is not how they work,” Twelve instructed, “they’re also known as The Lonely Assassins. The Weeping Angels are quantum-locked alien killers, they are humanoids, as old as the universe itself. Little is known of their origins or culture. When observed, they freeze like stone, but in the blink of an eye they can move vast distances. They are known for being ‘kind’ murderous psychopaths, eradicating their victims ‘mercifully’ by dropping them into the past and letting them live out their full lives, just in a different time period. Basically they zap the person back in time. This, in turn, allows them to live off the remaining time energy of the victim's life.”
“So, the angels never actually kill their victims though?” Mrs. Noble said, “so she can be gotten.”
Twelve looked at Kate, who looked down at her lap.
“Oh, uncomfortable silence,” Mrs. Noble groaned, “I do so love that!”
“Well,” Kate elaborated, “Usually, that’s what they do. However, in regards to just zapping a person into the past, when this potential energy pales in comparison to an alternative power source to feed on, the Angels are known to kill by other means, such as snapping their victims' necks.”
Mrs. Noble and Wilfred covered their mouths in shock.
“But there is no need to worry as of yet,” Twelve rushed out, “for when the Angels snap someone’s neck, they don’t do it after they pushed you into the past, but they do it right then and there. Donna’s body didn’t show up anywhere, did it?”
“No, it didn’t,” Wilfred stressed.
“Then Donna Noble is very much still alive.”
Wilfred and Mrs. Noble gave a sigh of relief as Wilfred held his daughter.
“It’s fine, dear,” Wilfred offered her solace, “there you see. Donna’s fine. Our little girl is always fine.”
“But then all that has to be done is for you to go into the past to find her, Doctor?” Mrs. Noble pressed, “of course you can find her, can’t you?”
“You can find them all,” Wilfred said.
“I wish it were that simple,” Twelve said, “but that is the thing about Angels.”
“What?”
“They use the person’s potential energy as food. So if I bring them all back, the Angels will feel their food supply zapped.”
“So?”
“Once I return them all, the Angels will come looking for them. They can’t stand losing someone that they feed on. If I bring Donna back, and then try and keep her here, they will pursue her, along with the rest of their victims. They might never stop. Ever.”
In that moment, Twelve recalled his previous regeneration, when he had gone with the Ponds to New York—the Angels had never stopped chasing Rory. They were fixated on him, and because of it, he lost them both.
“Do you know how many Angels have been spotted here in London?” Twelve asked Kate.
“There can be no way of knowing, but we determine that they were fifty at least.”
But then came the coincidence.
The Angels took Manhattan: he lost Amy and Rory.
Now the Angels were taking over London.
And they had taken Donna.
“So you all are saying that she is stuck in the past?” Mrs. Noble clarified.
“Actually, we can’t even say that,” Kate countered.
“What do you mean?” Twelve asked.
Kate breathed in heavily before she continued.
“UNIT has gone up in the universe, Doctor, and we even got one of our team accepted into the Time Academy. Well, sometimes chance is kind. He had traveled to Earth, in the year of 4000 A.D.”
“4000 A.D.!” The Doctor cried, “I love that year! You all invent space football that year!”
“We do?” Wilfred asked, “what bloke would have come up with that concept?”
Twelve swallowed, feeling ashamed.
“Right. I kind of think that I just did it.”
Twelve groaned inwardly, and then pressed on.
“So what about this Time Academy soldier of yours?”
“Right. Well, in the year of 4000 A.D., he read in the Galactic Tablet News that there was another person who claimed to be from the past and they had gone to the police about it. It turns out that the person was not alone. He found a picture of her, and her name was Molly Pratchett. And this is a picture of her from a month ago.”
Twelve took the picture and saw that it was an African Englishwoman in her early twenties, and could not have been born any later than 1990 at least.
“So what’s she doing in the year 4000 A.D.?” Kate asked.
Twelve stood up and paced around.
“I don’t get it,” Mrs. Noble observed.
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Twelve rambled, for he knew the implications. “This is not how the Angels feed.”
“But what other options do we have?”
“This is a whole new level of universe insanity,” Twelve continued.
“And once more, I still don’t understand,” Mrs. Noble declared.
Twelve turned back to Mrs. Noble and Wilfred.
“The Angels did take Donna with this lot, but not into the past. No, she’s been taken into the future.”
“Yes,” Kate confirmed, “We don’t know why or how, but it seems so.”
“But why now?” The Doctor asked, more to himself than anyone else. “What could this possibly mean? And if we bring them back somehow, then Angels will just come back to retrieve them perhaps. Maybe even snap their necks if they are feeling particularly vengeful.”
“But surely you are not going to leave Donna and the others in the future, Doctor,” Wilfred pleaded, “for that is not what you do.”
Twelve turned to Wilfred, Mrs. Noble, and at last toward Kate Stewart.
“Wilfred, me ole’ son,” Twelve said, getting a fiery look in his eye, “Of course that is not what I do. Kate, I’m going to need you to get every public camera in London to show Hyde Park at 3 o’clock.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’m g
oing to give the Weeping Angels the largest target that they have ever had.”
“And what is that?”
Twelve smiled wickedly.
“I’m going to give them me!”
Chapter 7
Smith & Jones
“So,” Eleven said as he walked to his TARDIS doors with Martha alongside him. “You are a part of the Shadow Proclamation?”
“What can I say?” Martha smiled casually, walking alongside him, “It’s just one of those years.”
“You and…”
Eleven trailed off before he could finish, but Martha noticed.
“Me and who?”
“No one.”
“No, it’s fine. What? Were you about to say me and Rose? Or me and Donna?”
“No, I was about to say you and Amy. She was another girl I traveled with.”
“Did you?” Martha chuckled. “You bad boy.”
“Oi, no! She was married.”
“Was she? Oh, you double bad boy.”
“Oh shut up!” The Doctor laughed as they raised up their arms and then entered the fray. There were many soldiers looking down at them, their guns pointed at them.
“Are the guns really necessary?” Eleven groaned, keeping his hands raised up. “Seriously, I just have a screwdriver.”
“And a TARDIS behind you,” Martha grinned, “but you are right. General Sidney! This is the Doctor, and he just saved us, and he doesn’t like guns.”
“Well, it depends now, really,” Eleven whispered to her.
“Really?” Martha asked, intrigued.
“I’ve been through more mileage. Therefore, a lot less idealistic in thinking now.”
“Wow, I have questions for you later, then.”
“Questions, questions, questions. It’s like they never stop when it comes to me.”
General Sidney came forward, his weapon lowered.
“Sorry, Doctor,” he began, “it’s just that when it comes to such situations, one never wants to go fighting one villain to another. And believe me, the last thing that I need is a TARDIS showing up and being flown by a zygon, yeah. So if you don’t mind.”
