Two Old Men and a Park Bench by Emachinescat

A Doctor Who Fan-Fiction

SUMMARY: The bowtied man smiled, a smile so different but so familiar, and Wilfred's jaw dropped realization came. "Doctor?" His voice shook a bit. The grin grew wider. "Hello, Wilf."

A/N: So this is my first real attempt at a legit Doctor Who fan-fic. It spawned because of my adoration of Wilfred Noble's character and the amazing bond that he shared with the tenth Doctor. The part where he says he'd be proud to have the Doctor as a son (and vice versa) gives me chills every time! Anyway, I felt like there could be more to add to their story, some closure to be had, and this is what came of it. It's going to be a two-parter. Part one sets the stage and part two is when the tissues should probably be whipped out. :) So enjoy, please REVIEW! XD

Two Old Men and a Park Bench

Part One

He was sitting in the park on his favorite bench, thinking – just thinking – when the stranger sat beside him, wiggled around a bit to get comfortable, and then asked, "Mind if I join you?"

Wilfred gave a soft laugh at that; the newcomer had obviously already made up his mind about where he was going to sit and was just asking out of formality. Almost as if he had read Wilfred's mind, the unfamiliar voice piped up, "No, really, if you'd rather me leave, I'll find another bench, but quite honestly, this is a nice bench. One of the nicest I've sat on. Definitely nicer than the one in Ledsworth. Ugh, Ledsworth. Boring place, really, except when the old folks get out of hand, but that's a story you'd probably rather me not go into, but chances are if you don't shut me up soon, I'll probably tell it anyway, eh?" The man chuckled, almost sadly, and then fell quiet, almost as if expecting his newfound companion to get up and leave, or tell him to be quiet.

Wilfred did neither. Instead, he stared ahead, red hat covering most of the gray hair he had left, and smiled. "Are you talking to me, young man?" he asked, rather amused at his bench-mate's robust enthusiasm.

The man seemed surprised. "Well of course I'm talking to you! Certainly not to myself; I do that enough when I'm alone and I can ramble on a bit…"

"You never know, though, do ya?" Wilfred asked, glancing in the man's direction. "All them ear pods and Bluetooths in people's ears, you never can tell who's talkin' to you and who's not." He paused for a moment. "Mind you, there's some technology out there that'd blow their minds, eh?"

"Like what?" the stranger seemed interested, which Wilfred took as a good sign that he might not walk away at the first mention of extraterrestrials.

"Oh, them aliens up there, spaceships and all. They probably don't even need something in their ears; they can probably just read minds, y'know?"

"Well, actually–" he seemed to be about ready to correct Wilfred on his assumption about future communication but stopped and said with a smile in his voice, "So you believe, then? In aliens?"

"'Course I do!" the old man insisted. "An' I always say you're mad not to! They're on the news, they've invaded… changed our lives, they have, even if most don't want to see it."

"Changed your lives?" the other man said slowly. "Really? In what way?"

Wilfred had never been one to pass up an opportunity to pass on the truth about life out there in the stars, especially after what he'd witnessed, even if he couldn't tell most of it. He thought for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to express himself. "Most people," he decided, "think that all aliens are bad, and who can blame'em! I mean, those metal men and the spaceship and Big Ben; but I believe," and his eyes watered a bit here, "that there's plenty of good aliens, too, protectin' us."

"That's rather inspiring," said the stranger. "I wish I could be as certain as you seem to be."

There was sadness in the man's voice and for the first time since their peculiar conversation started, Wilfred turned around and looked properly at his companion. He looked young, maybe mid-twenties, with a mop of brown hair, hazel eyes, and a lean face, sharp nose, and – blimey! – one hell of a chin! He wasn't dressed like most young people his age, what with the suspenders, dressier trousers and jacket, and the bright red bowtie at his throat. He looked nice enough, but sad and happy at the same time. And something in his eyes seemed so old, much older than he was. Wilfred looked a little closer; something was very familiar about this man, but he hardly dared to think of the possibility that he could be…

"So, what are you doing out here, Wilf, besides chatting up complete strangers about the wonders of the universe?"

He answered automatically. "I come here sometimes, to look, to wait. Wondering if maybe an old friend might stop by and—" he broke off. "How did you know my name?"

No answer. "An old friend, you say? Who's that then?"

Wilfred shrugged heavily and felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. Every time he thought about that man, the man that was so old and so young, the man that could be his great-great-great-ten times great grandfather in years, but who Wilfred would have been honored to have as a son. He lived with the thought, every day, that if he hadn't gone in the room, hadn't knocked four times…

"Ah, you don't want to listen to me," Wilfred said, shaking his head. "The silly stories of a daft old man; I'll put you to sleep, I will."

"I doubt that," the shaggy-haired, bowtie wearing man said, amused. "And I've told you before, Wilfred, my friend, I'm far older than you; I've just had a face-job or two done, eh?"

Wilfred stared, hardly daring to believe it. It wasn't possible, was it? After three years of wondering and waiting to see that man again? But it wasn't the same man, wasn't him, couldn't be…

He smiled, a smile so different but just like the grin he had seen several times before, and Wilfred thought his jaw might be hanging so low that if he were to stand, he'd trip over it.

"Doctor?" His voice shook a bit.

The grin grew wider."Hello, Wilf."

A/N: Please review and I'll update as soon as I can! :)

~Emachinescat ^..^