Oswald's Scarf

www.fanpop.com

Fan fiction in celebration of Doctor Who’s 50th Anniversary.

Somehow she knew this man even though she was certain she had never met him. There was something about his broad face, his hooded eyes, regal nose and strong mouth that was oddly familiar.

“Hello, can I help you?” she asked.

“Possibly,” he replied, his voice booming yet distinguished. “I’m looking for something or someone. I’m not quite sure which at this moment.”

Oswald looked at him thoughtfully, unable to decide whether he was mad or merely senile. Neither description fit. He was old and walked with a cane, but the intelligence in his eyes was dazzling. She suddenly felt short of breath and reached into her pocket for her inhaler.

“You don’t need that, you know,” said the man. “You just need to believe in yourself.”

“I’m afraid self-belief doesn’t run in my family.”

“You might be surprised. It’s a tricky thing. Runs in families, through families, misses some family members completely, abounds in others. And it most definitely runs in your family.” He leaned forward and tapped his nose conspiratorially. “But don’t tell anyone I told you so.”

Oswald sighed in exasperation. “How would you know whether … Who are you anyway?”

“I am,” said the man, “The Doctor. Or was The Doctor. One of them.”

Oswald was about to say “Rubbish you can’t be” when she realised he most certainly could, just not the incarnation she already knew.

She noticed the man was looking at her as if expecting an answer to a question.

“Sorry?”

“No need to be sorry. I merely asked who you were,” said the man politely.

“I’m Jean Oswald. But just call me Oswald. Everyone else does.”

“Oswald, it is then. Tell me Oswald, do you get colds often?”

“No!”

“Really?”

“Er, well yes, if you must know.”

“Then you might like this,” he said, holding out a multi-coloured hand-knitted scarf.

She was about to refuse when something in his expression changed her mind. She took the scarf from him, unfolded it and wrapped it around her throat. The ends came down to her knees.

“It’s very long, isn’t it?” She wrapped the scarf around her neck once more.

The man smiled. “Yes, it is. I believe I used to wear it. Or one like it. There was a hat as well but I can’t recall what became of it.”

“Thank you,” she replied, “but why me?”

“A time is coming when you will need all the strength and belief in yourself you can muster. This will help you remember.”

“Remember what?”

“The Doctor will save you.”

She stared at him.

“Save me from what?”

“Never mind that. Just remember, Oswald. You are strong and you can do what needs to be done. And when you can do no more, the Doctor will save you. All you have to do is ask.”

He grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and pushed her towards the open door of library.

“Now, off you go. No point dilly-dallying.”

Oswald spun around ready to protest that she wasn’t at all strong and very much doubted she could do anything that needed to be done unless it involved some kind of research and analysis because, quite frankly, that is all she knew.

The man was gone.

Oswald stood there open-mouthed. She had no idea what to do next.