Doctor Who - 03 - The August Sky

.3. A Standstill

Wilfred stood by the window, looking out at a bay. Torchwood paid for his accommodation – a cold, modern apartment, with a wall made of glass, which was letting in the cool blueness of the sky and greyness of the water. There was an antique merry-go-round swivelling on the embankment; people kept crowding there; a water sculpture, towering over the Hub, invisible from where he was standing now, but always present, was twinkling with reflected sunrays from under constantly flowing waves. There was life there; some form of life; even if to Wilf it reminded a film watched on a screen of a newfangled, plasma TV. In his apartment there was just standstill. He didn't even try to overcome the frigidity of a designer interior – just one look at aggressive combination of colours on the walls; at exclusive, modernistic furniture; at incomprehensible appliances behind the kitchen island – and Wilf gave up without a fight. Whatever it was supposed to be – a safe harbour, a waiting room, a hotel apartment, a weird dream – such interior could never become a home.

"I've made you some tea." Martha came closer carrying two mugs, and handed one of them to Wilfred. "I've checked your fridge. Do you eat at all?"

"There's a chip-shop by the pier," Wilf said. "Sometimes I order pizza."

"Pepperoni? Ianto always orders pepperoni for me."

"Hmm? Yes. I guess."

"Wilfred," Martha gently touched the old man's shoulder. "Starving yourself won't help Donna. I'll pop in tomorrow, and cook a real dinner, yeah? Well, all right, I'll nuke something in the microwave. Cooking's not my strong suit."

"Oh, you doctors and scientists." Wilf gave her a pale smile. He finally turned his gaze away from the bay. He walked to a sofa and sank in its brown, leather softness. "You can extract an appendix, but you can't peel spuds."

Martha sat in the armchair opposite him. She had longer, softly curling hair now. Her beautiful eyes were full of concern.

"A gorgeous girl," Wilf thought. "This gorgeous girl could have smashed the Earth into one million pieces; all she had to do was use that Oster-whats-his-name key. Such a tiny and fragile, gorgeous girl. My Donna had never been so fragile. But it was Donna who pulled a short straw."

For a while Wilf was almost angry at Martha. She had travelled with the Doctor too, but unlike Donna, she was reasonable enough to say "no" just in time.

"How did you manage last Friday?" Martha asked. "Any damages?"

"All the light bulbs shattered, and I think the TV bought it; it's either that or I can't set the blooming digi-box." Wilf shrugged. "I got the wind up, that's all. Do you know that waves were reaching my window?"

"A lot of rubbish washed on the shore," Martha said.

"Alien rubbish?" After all he witnessed, Wilf still found it hard to believe in presence of the Rift and in signs of alien life.

Martha nodded.

"We had our hands full with it." She smiled. "You know what's really annoying? Most of this rubbish will turn out to be... I don't know... hairdryers and fryers. Or weapons," she added hesitantly. "Ninety percent of all our finds proves to be a useless trash. But then there are real treasures. Take the universal decoder; it will decode anything; let it get into some thieve hands and he could empty all the accounts in all the banks around the world and not leave a single trace. And the day before yesterday I found this."

She reached out and on the glossy surface of the low table she put an item reminding an exotic shell, made of a green mellowed metal.

"No idea," she sighed. "But when I touch it, very gently, it gives away light and scent. Both absolutely harmless."