Liverpool, England, 1962

The youthful contingent of Liverpool was abuzz with anticipation. Teenage girls had lied to their parents and told them they were going to youth group at the local church, hiding their gold cross necklaces underneath their fuzzy sweaters and hiking up their conservative skirts as soon s they were out of eyeshot. Boys unsmoothed their hair, let it flop into their eyes, and linked arms with those same sweater-wearing girls under the streetlamps in Liverpool's town center. Awkward kissing and groping ensued briefly, a celebratory gesture of escaping their parents' clutches into the freedom provided by the night, before they all headed to the same location, the source of all the buzzing and gossiping—The Cavern Club.

Amidst the crowds of young people heading to the venue were a tall, thin girl with wavy red hair, wearing a black leather jacket that matched her knee-high boots. She was accompanied by a gangly, bow-legged man in a tweed jacket and a bow tie. His ensemble got a few odd glances from the too-cool-for-school boys, who couldn't help but wonder if he was some sort of spy sent by their equally-square parents, and several giggles from their girlfriends, who were more easily charmed by the man's confident attitude, wide grin, and clumsy-yet-bouncy footsteps. The beautiful ginger girl linked arms with him and squealed with excitement, nearly levitating from the pavement.

"I can't believe we're about to see The Beatles perform! This is too good to be true! Thank you sooo much, Doctor!"

The Doctor smiled to himself and squeezed her arm as they walked along. Amy didn't remember losing Rory—in fact, she didn't remember him at all. But the Doctor remembered, and it broke his heart more than Amy could ever know. As Amy danced along at his side, humming "I Want to Hold Your Hand," the Doctor wistfully hoped that by doing enough kind things for Rory's flame-haired fiancée, that he could somehow even the score. Well, that would be impossible, but the Doctor couldn't help trying, including attempting to keep his spirits up to the same level as Amy's, which at this moment were hovering somewhere in the stratosphere.

The red brick structure of the music hall loomed before them, it's neon sign a dimly flickering beacon in the twilight, drawing the youth of Liverpool onwards like moths to a flame. The Doctor squeezed past the line of people outside and flashed his psychic paper at the doorman.

"We're representatives of TARDIS Records, very well reputed, sure you've heard of us? We're not on the guest list, I'm afraid; we were too busy in London turning the Ray Davies Quartet into the Kinks. You'll love them in approximately two years." He raised his eyebrow cockily. The doorman examined the paper with an inquisitive eye, and then held his arm outward. "Go on in, sir, and enjoy the show!"

"Thank you, we most certainly will!" Amy hugged him spontaneously. The doorman's face reddened. He continued to inspect the IDs of the other guests in line, though with a crooked, goofy grin on his face. Such was the effect of Amelia Pond on the common man.

A half an hour later and the lights went down in the Cavern Club, turning the red bricks black, then various shades of blue and green. The atmosphere reached fever pitch, and the Doctor had to resist the urge to stick his fingers in his ears, mainly because Amy would never let him hear the end of it if he had. Yet she still seemed to sense his discomfort. "What's wrong, old man?" she shouted through the noise. "Too loud for you? Need to go home and put in your earplugs?"

"Please, with all the noise the TARDIS makes every time I land her, I can handle a few overexcited teenagers." He roared back.

Suddenly, four slim young men in matching monochromatic suits walked out onstage to take their places at their instruments. Amy whistled. "I love you, Paul!" She shrieked. The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Paul? How typical of you." "Oh, I suppose you're a Ringo fan," she snorted. "Ringo's cool. He has a fun name. It's good for repeating over and over again, like an incantation. Ringo Starr, Ringo Starr…" 'All right, I get the idea," Amy sighed.

One of the band members stepped up to the microphone. "Good evening, Liverpool! It feels good to be back!" He exuded charisma and the audience soaked it up immediately. He continued: "I'm John Lennon, and these are the Beatles, and we're going to play a few songs for you tonight."

The crowd screamed even more, if that was at all possible. John grinned—but then something odd happened.

For a second John Lennon appeared to flicker and disappear. The Doctor rubbed his eyes and blinked rapidly. But no, John was still there, in all of his still-young-and-alive-pre-Yoko glory. He made eye contact with her fellow Beatles, and Ringo tapped out a few beats on his drums. With a quiet count of "2-3-4" the guitars sprang into gear and the opening chords of "Love Me Do" echoed throughout the club.

It was the first time that song had ever been played, the song that would go on to be the band's first of many number-one singles, and the magic it wrought on the crowd was instantaneous. The Doctor noted to himself that everyone seemed to have fallen into a trance. The dancing and singing-along was quite uniform for a group of kids who seemed to be striving to buck off authority. He looked over at Amy. Her hazel eyes seemed to have weirdly changed color—a violet haze lingered over the irises. Her smile was wide and genuine but it didn't extend to her eyes. Something else was going on here.

The Doctor spun around and eyed the Beatles with suspicion. He got out the sonic screwdriver and subtly flickered it towards the stage.

For a second the band seemed to disappear again, replaced by four tall reptilian aliens. But the perception filter was too strong for the Doctor to overcome for more than a few moments, and soon the handsome, Fabulous Four were back in their proper places. No one else seemed to have noticed—not even the band, which kept on rocking and harmonizing like no other band before.

The Doctor grabbed Amy by the shoulders and shook her. "Amy! Amy! Listen to me! There's something wrong with the Beatles!"

Amy stopped dancing long enough to stare penetratingly at the doctor. "There's NOTHING wrong with the Beatles, Doctor. Absolutely nothing. They're the greatest band ever to exist. Why can't you just enjoy that? Dance with me!"

She grabbed the Doctor by the wrists and tried to swing his body around in circles with her, like the other couples on the dance floor were doing, but he wriggled out of her grasp, leaving her holding his empty tweed jacket. One teenage boy in a tight white tee shirt looked him up and down and snorted. "Nice bow tie and braces mate."

"Hey, now, bow ties are cool!" The Doctor waggled a finger at the boy, causing him to lean back as though afraid of causing some sort of fashion-failure disease, and returned his attention to the band. "Love Me Do" was winding down to its conclusion. As the final chords reverberated through the room, and appreciative screams and claps exploded in his ears, the Doctor made a second attempt to sonic out of sight the shield that was disguising these apparent foreign intruders. With a whirr and a subtle flash of green light, the four reptiles once again replaced the Beatles onstage, still performing but without any of the physical charm and style of their fake human counterparts. They had sin that was such a dark shade of purple that it was nearly black, and eyes with the same violet hue as the enchanted ones in the audience. To see such creatures playing the guitar, bass, and drums ranked up there with some of the most bizarre visions the Doctor had seen in his 900-plus years of living.

The Doctor gasped and grabbed Amy by the shoulders, turning her towards the stage forcefully. He pointed. "Look, Amy!"

Amy did look, but by the time her eyes reached the stage the Beatles were back and George Harrison was crooning the opening phrase of "Do You Want to Know A Secret?" How ironic, the Doctor thought to himself.

"Yes Doctor, I see. It's the Beatles. It's amazing! Stop being so bloody paranoid." And with those final words, she rejoined the throng on mind-controlled and manipulated Liverpudlians, all seemingly under the spell of the music. The Doctor knew that the Beatles had captured the world's attention like no other band before and very few since, but he had never thought to chalk it up to an intergalactic conspiracy. But really, it made so much sense! What better way to control the minds of human youth than by reaching out through song and style? It was, after all, what they were most susceptible to. Forget war and the economy; in 1962 all these kids wanted was the latest 45 and a skinny tie. "I can't believe I never noticed it before."

"What?" Amy asked quizzically. The Doctor looked at her pale, blissfully ignorant face. Amy was happier not knowing she'd lost the man she loved more than anyone in the world; perhaps it was also better she didn't know her favorite band was actually a grotesque group of aliens. The Doctor felt a sadness rising up in his throat. Poor Amelia Pond. Let her hold on to this moment.

"I never noticed how much I like this song!" He grabbed Amy's arms and began to dance with her. Amy's face blossomed into that same smile, the one that didn't extend to her clearly enchanted eyes—the same eyes that peered out of the faces of every other audience member in the Cavern Club.

The Doctor looked around. The eerie violet tone to everyone's gaze was off-putting, to be sure, but what harm could it possibly do? The Beatles music had changed the landscape of modern pop music; it hadn't destroyed civilizations or created black holes. This was one he could let go. With that, he tried his best to submerge his chronic desire to set everything to rights and to understand, and let the music carry him away.