Long time no see eh? I was struck with inspiration after the Christmas special (so good!) and this little thing appeared! Reviews are welcomed! Enjoy...
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. If I did, it would be a lot less complicated.
I would visit my grandmother every second Monday of each month. My mother was afraid of me being estrange towards her, so she was determined to establish a close relationship between myself and my grandmother.
I think Gran dreaded the visit as much as I did. She would prefer to have the house to herself or be off playing bridge with some girl friends and a bottle of gin. But every second Monday of each month she was lumped with me for an afternoon.
Sometime all we would do is watch television, other times we wouldn't say a word to each other, except when offering and/or accepting tea.
I will always remember the stories she would tell though. If you caught her at the right time, with the right temperament and the right amount of sunshine; the stories would just flow from her. They would be tales that she would make me swear not to tell my mother about. She was a drifter, my Gran; a traveller and a wanderer who was just drifting through the world on any breeze strong enough to carry her.
Her stories were vibrant and colourful; the fresh crisp mountains of Switzerland, the noise and rainbows of India and the bright relentless lights of New York that reflected the stars. There would always be characters in the stories, which would accompany Gran through the winding alley ways and down through streams.
But there was always a recurring character- he would pop up throughout the different stories, but each time with a different face, yet always the same name.
If you would call it a 'name'.
He was a man like no other, my Gran would recount as her eyes glazed over with the trip down memory lane. She would often talk about a TARDIS- I wasn't sure if it is a boat or a car, she would call it a ship, but then talk about how she went to the middle of Scotland in it.
He sounded like the most amazing and complex man. One minute he would be laughing with a child like abandonment and then the next minute he would be brooding with the pain of the last soldier standing.
He always had a different face apparently. I didn't know if she was being literal or metaphorical. Sometimes it was floppy hair and a childish silliness, other times it was sticky out ears and an enthusiasm for wondering about without the guide book.
He led her around Paris at midnight, down through the fields in Inverness and weaved her between market stalls in Morocco. She would talk about him like as if he was her greatest friend in the world and also like she was deeply in love with him. It was hard to tell at times where she had drawn the line.
I had once asked her if he was my grandfather- I didn't have one and with the way she talked about him, it was easy to assume. But she just laughed and smiled, taking a sip of her gin and tonic, and then telling me that it was definitely not him because she would definitely remember if it was.
My Gran died about five years ago. I can remember standing at the back of the church where the funeral was taking place. I never liked churches and found it rather terrifying to stand so close to a dead body. So I stood at the back, my hands in the lap of my itchy black dress.
The funeral was all wrong for her; Gran would have wanted to go out with a bang- with the spices of India, the trinkets of Moscow markets and the music of an Irish jig. Not with the sombre Catholic hymns that echoed in the arches of the tall cold gothic church. The man who appeared out of nowhere agreed with me.
"It's very dull isn't it?" he had a northern accent, a leather jacket and ears that were close to sticking out of his head at a ninety degree angle. I looked up at him and almost had a heart attack. It was him. My Gran's Doctor. This time it was the doctor who had helped her navigate the canals of Venice on a boat that was 'borrowed' (They did return it- but in two halves.)
I didn't say anything, but nodded and quickly turned my attention to the floor. The ancient stone slabs were so interesting. He continued to talk. "I would have thought she would go out with fireworks and an out of tune opera singer. She would have liked that." He turned his head back to me and smiled, but with a tiredness in his eyes. He was properly tired of seeing people go in the same way: in a box and with an uncoordinated black robed choir of relatives. I decided to speak up.
"Well- at least you'll be able to see her again." This caught his attention.
"You'll get back on your boat and sail through time, may be not with the same face, but you'll see her. You still need to help her climb the tree in South Africa and avoid being a lion's dinner."
I glanced up at him, his face was pulled into a confused frown and then he smiled. It was still a sad smile, but not as sad as the first time.
"You've also got to-" I was about to reveal all the other things Gran had told me about, but the Doctor just stopped me and let out a chuckle, "no spoilers". He then stood up and walked out of the church. He paused at the door and noticed me watching him, he gestured towards the coffin that sat in the middle of the pews nearest the altar, as if to say time to say goodbye.
He then turned on his heel and left.
I walked up the passage way and placed my hand on the cold wood and closed my eyes to whisper my goodbyes to a woman that I didn't know I would love this much. As I finished a whooshing noise could be heard outside.
I presume he doesn't travel around in a boat.
Well...let me know what you think!