New Faces

By Tuba321

...

Wilfred Mott had stopped looking at the stars.

He'd tried. He had honestly tried and tried, forcing himself out of the house and back to his telescope and blanket, trying to enjoy the wonders of the universe again. But the stars now held more than just wonder. Guilt was now his first reaction to the stars. Because out there, somewhere, was the Doctor that Wilf had caused suffering to.

For all he knew the Doctor might not even be out there.

The way that the Doctor had looked at him when he last saw him… that of total sorrow and yet not any remorse for the cause… was burned in his mind. Wilf knew in that second that, despite every single one of his hopes, the Doctor was dying. There was no turning back, no second chances.

And he was the reason for it all.

Then the Time Lord had disappeared, run off like a dog to die. Wilf dared to hope one more thing: that the Doctor wouldn't be alone. But that seemed as impossible as the first batch of hopes.

He didn't even know if the Doctor got his reward.

So now, Wilfred Mott was left with grief and guilt. He daren't look at the stars unless he wanted tears in his eyes. Donna had noticed and tried to find out what was going on with her Gramps, but even the fact that he couldn't tell her shook him further. He still tried to live, as the Doctor sacrificed so he could do so, it was just dulled somewhat. If there was anything that he did vigorously it was wait for a sign that the Time Lord was alright.

On a night that seemed to reflect Wilf's mood, dark, rainy and grey, he sat in his favorite chair in the living room, attempting to read a book.

Donna walked in, plopping down on the sofa with a sigh.

Wilf put his book down. "Shaun called?"

"Yeah, he says that he'll be at that convention for another week." Donna mumbled. It wasn't his fault, he had to choice she knew. "Thanks for letting me stay here. It's no fun staying in that big house all by myself."

He smiled. "You know that your mother and I always have room for you."

"Yeah." She said with honesty. They had very recently been very supportive and understanding, even after she and Shaun had won the lottery from that mystery of a wedding present. "I know. I was-"

A knock at the door interrupted her.

Wilf waved it off. "Just ignore it, sweetheart, it's probably a salesman."

She laughed a bit at that. "We get tons of those at out new house."

He chuckled. "The one thing you can't escape, eh?" He was about to add to that statement when the knock at the door repeated it self another three times, this time seeming more urgent. He frowned, standing up and turning to the door.

Donna stayed where she was. "Oh, come on Gramps, you're really going to answer it?"

"Well…"

The knocks came again; this time being a great deal slower, like the force behind them was losing energy or strength. This time Donna stood up, becoming genuinely freaked out. Finally, another sound accompanied the pounding, a faint, pitiful whisper of a word.

"Help." And then there was a final thump, one that wasn't against the door.

Wilf ran to the door, and threw it open before Donna could even react, making him much faster than she could have pegged for the older man. By the time she reached him, he was already at the door, staring down at an object on the ground. She gasped. It was a young man, in tweed of all things, apparently having collapsed on their front steps.

Without even thinking, she dropped to her knees to check on this stranger. He was breathing lightly, obviously alive and from what she could tell he wasn't bleeding anywhere, though she probably would check more thoroughly later.

She put a hand to his forehead. He didn't seem to have a fever, in fact he seemed colder than normal, but there was no mistaking that thing sheet of sweat and the obvious paleness. He was obviously ill, even without her seeing his face fully yet.

From her position on the ground she turned back to her grandfather and barked, "Well, don't just stand there! Help me move him!"

Wilf seemed to jump back into reality. Quickly, he and Donna picked the strange man up between them and awkwardly made their way into the house, not bothering to close the door behind them. They made it into the living room, clumsily placing him on the couch that Donna had just recently vacated.

As Donna stepped back a bit, she could see more of his features. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties, with very dark-oddly styled hair and… a bowtie? The younger generation was strange, she decided.

Wilfred was already grabbing a pillow to place behind the young stranger's head and Donna decided to grab a nearby blanket to throw over him also. By the time they were done with him, he was wrapped up snuggly on the couch.

They sat on the chairs across the room, staring at him with worry and curiosity. "Who do you think he is?" Donna was the first to ask.

Wilf shrugged. "Dunno."

There was another elongated period of silence before Donna suddenly asked. "Do you think we should call someone?"

Wilfred hadn't thought of that. "We don't know him. We should probably just wait to see if he wants to call someone when he wakes up."

"What about a doctor? Do you think we need to call a doctor?" She asked, getting more concerned, in typical Donna style, over the unknown man.

Wishing he could call a very specific doctor, Wilfred shook his head. "No, sweetheart, we should probably just see what he wants to do when he wakes up."

"Well, alright." Donna finally agreed. A thought occurred to her and she smirked a little. "Probably got himself smashed."

Somehow Wilfred felt that this wasn't the case.

...

A few hours had gone by. Wilfred and Donna had taken turns checking on the young man, keeping tabs on his appearance and temperature. They'd finally popped in a movie of Donna's choosing (as if there was any other choice?).

They were just at the part where Barbra's Yentl started singing to her dead father in the woods when Sylvia came in, the door banging loudly. She came in a little clumsily, carrying an armful of bags.

"Well are you just going to sit there or help me?" She called at the two figures on the couch, completely overlooking the stranger.

The red-head and grandfather looked at each other, unsure of what to do, before reluctantly getting up and taking some of the bags from her. As they moved quickly into the kitchen, Sylvia cried, "Who's that on the couch?"

"Uhhh…" They both stumbled for words.

"He was sort of…" Wilf started.

"He just…" Sputtered Donna at he same time. "He just showed up on our steps, like that."

Sylvia leaned down over the stranger, brushing back his wild hair, worried about how pale he was. "And you didn't call a doctor or something? He looks right ill."

Donna walked back into the room, watching her mother check on the man. "No, we decided to ask him what he needs when he wakes up."

Nodding, Sylvia stood up and turned back to Donna. "Alright, tell me if he needs anything. I'm going upstairs."

Watching her mother leave, Donna decided not to ponder why that seemed easier than it should've been.

Interrupting her thoughts, the stranger moved a bit and groaned quietly, eyes moving slightly behind their closed lids.

"Gramps!" She called to Wilf, who rushed over into the room, taking lead by kneeling down next to the ailing man. Donna still couldn't help asking, "Are you okay?"

The young man shifted again, in response to the sound of Donna's voice, before his eyes popped wide open. He seemed to hesitate before turning to the two other people in the room, and if there was any doubt he was sick, it had disappeared in one fever-filled glance. Once he caught a glimpse of them, he closed his eyes and sunk his head back into the cushion again, sighing. "I must be delirious."

"What?" Asked Donna, sharing a look of confusion with her grandfather.

"I haven't seen red hair like that since…" He trailed off before opening his eyes again, seeming to panic slightly. "Amy! Rory! Where are they?" He looked around, slowly taking everything in. "Obviously not here 'cause this is a delusion." He seemed to conclude.

"Oi!" Donna grabbed his attention, Donna-style. "Listen mate." The young man flinched at her tone, staring at her with an expression that Wilf couldn't place, but he was listening. "We're not delusions, you got that?"

The stranger seemed surprised by this, his mouth forming an 'O' shape. He looked at them again, this time studying. His expression at looking at Donna was hard-placed and one of attempted control. He looked at Wilfred next, catching his direct gaze. Something in those eyes, Wilf discovered. Despite the slight cloudiness, the stranger's eyes seemed familiar. A magnificent concoction of wisdom, misery, anger, power, age and timelessness, they struck Wilfred like only one other pair of eyes had before.

Abruptly the eyes turned away, staring back at the ceiling. "Right. Not a delusion. Was delirious before. When I came here." He sighed, sorrow seeming to creep into his tone. "That makes sense." His breathing got a little deeper, and he coughed harshly several times before his head fell back again. "Ugh." He groaned.

"Easy, easy." Wilfred put his hand on the man's head, the younger man closing his eyes, seeming to like the touch. He was warm, abet slightly.

"Do you think he needs a hospital?" Donna asked anxiously.

This seemed to rouse the stranger, opening his eyes again, looking fearful. "No! No hospital!"

"Why?"

Ignoring Donna's innocent question, the stranger moaned again, coughing.

Making a quick decision Wilf turned to Donna. "Sweetheart, could you grab something for him? He doesn't look well."

Donna looked at the stranger. She couldn't help but pity him. He looked absolutely miserable, pale as a ghost in comparison to the dark green blanket she had thrown over him hours before. His hair even added to the effect, somehow reminding her of the recent 'Twilight' movies. She nodded, standing up.

Weakly the stranger mumbled. "Anything without aspirin." As if an after-thought, he added, "Or penicillin."

Sarcastically, she said, though not unkindly, "Yeah, as if I have a secret stash of penicillin." She moved towards the kitchen.

Wilfred watched her go before turning back to the strange man. "Are you alright?"

The young man seemed to consider this. "No… no this is the one time I think that I can't say I'm alright, Wilf." He paused, seeming to ponder a fleeing thought, like his mind was fuzzy. "No. Definitely not alright. Thing is: I don't know exactly what's wrong here. What's wrong with me, you see. Hopefully we'll sort this out because this is one of the least fun feelings I've had in awhile."

Wilfred had sat silent through that entire ramble, stunned at the stranger's use of his name. "How…? Do I know you?"

The young man looked at him dead in the eyes again and Wilfred could again see that familiar whirlpool of impossibility before the stranger looked away from him. He put on a mock-insulted expression. "You should. You killed me after all."

And Wilfred gasped, losing track of his breathing as a chilly-cold feeling rushed through him as the pieces of this puzzle fit together like clockwork.

...

A/N: Yeah. Loved ten's final episode. Very tragic. Actually made me cry. Felt bad for Wilfred too. So that's where this comes in. We all love DoctorWhump so why not? Also love Donna. One of my favorite companions along with Ace, Tegan, Sarah Jane and Jack (though not in that order!:D ) Bet you're wondering what happened to Mr. and Mrs. Pond? Well, I'll figure that out later. Kidding! Anywho, a couple of comments here... First of all, can we not see Donna being a Streisand fan? Am I right? Next, here's my point of view in one word on Twilight as a writer and reader: Disgusting. Probably offended a bunch of people there but, you know, whatever. Twilight is not a religeon people! Anywho, reviews would be nice. No flames please (including the ones by angry vampire fans). Will get back to this soon.