To the Stars and Back

by LiteratusAO3

Following the Game Station and the Christmas Invasion, Team TARDIS set out to do what they do best: explore the universe, get into trouble, and run for their lives. And as a threat to their happiness grows in the form of a shadowy organisation known only as Torchwood, they learn that the past doesn't always stay buried and the future isn't what they think. (Covers season two.)

45. Chapter 45

Chapter Forty-Five

Zoe touched the edge of her finger to her lip and fixed her red lipstick, using the Doctor's absence as an opportunity to get it right. His wandering hands and mouth that burned a path up her neck that morning had made it difficult to apply though it had segued into ten well-spent minutes of gripping the bathroom sink as he pressed into her from behind. The thought of how his breath had caught in his chest, eyes wide and dark as he watched her in the mirror, Gallifreyan tumbling from his tongue in a knotted gasp that sent arousal blooming through her, sent colour sweeping through her skin. It was almost embarrassing how her body responded to him – the mere thought of the sounds he made and the sweet pass of his hands over her skin was enough to make her forget herself – and she covertly glanced at Rose to make sure her sister wasn't paying any attention to her.

Weight pressed into the toes of her pink sandals, Rose was too busy spreading her arms wide and twirling on the spot to notice anything wrong with Zoe: The pink skirt of her dress flew out around her stockinged legs, layers and layers of sheer white crinoline puffing it up. There was a lightness to her that cast a smile over Zoe's lips, a comfort that came from watching Rose be Rose, and she was disappointed when the pink heel came down with a loud clack when Rose noticed Zoe watching her.

Her finger – painted pink to match her outfit – pointed a warning. "Shut up."

"Did I say anything?" Zoe dropped her mirror into her jacket's pocket, her own heels snapping against the ground as she joined Rose off to the side of the TARDIS. "You look really nice though. The 50s are a surprisingly good look on you."

"Right?" Rose moved her hips moved back and forth to shake the volume of her skirt out, the crinkling sound it made reminded Zoe of hours of dress fittings in France. "Why don't we dress like this any more? Jeans an' a T-shirt are so bleh next to this."

"Wear that on the estate and see what happens," she said, pulling out her phone. "Step back. I want to send a picture to Mum. She'll get a kick out of this."

Hands flapping at her to wait, Rose attempted to find the best position to pose in. She settled for standing in front of the TARDIS door as though she had just stepped out and Zoe happened to be there waiting for her with a camera. Sunlight poking through the clouds warmed her freshly dyed hair and threw a glow around her, jealousy briefly pricking at Zoe for how beautiful her sister was. Focusing on the screen, she snapped two pictures in quick succession, and Rose bounded towards her to plaster herself against Zoe's back to look at them, snatching the phone from her hands to add a subtle filter to it.

"There, done."

"I'm the photographer, thank you." Zoe took back her phone with a sniff and sent the picture to the Tyler family group chat that consisted of Jackie telling them to call and streams of gossip from the estate. "I hate how photogenic you are."

"Can't help lookin' this good, little sis," Rose said with a confidence born from being friends with Jack. "Just genetics."

"Piss off," she said, sweetly.

"Besides, you don't look half bad in pictures; I'd take one of you right now but Mum might lose her shit seein' you dressed like that." Rose's eyes tracked over, faintly judgemental in a way that only a sister managed to be. "You're goin' to start a bloody riot. Can you even breathe properly?"

Zoe slid her phone away and tucked her hands into her pockets, spreading the jacket wide so that Rose was able to see her properly. "Course I can. I'm not an idiot."

She snorted. "Debatable."

"Shut up."

"'s not like you to dress so –" Rose curled her tongue in an attempt to find a non-offensive descriptor. "Tightly."

Conscious of that fact – and the fact that she was dressed far differently than she preferred – she glanced away. "Well, it's not everyday we get to see Elvis live, is it?"

"D'you want to shag him or somethin'?" Rose asked. "Because I'm not sure it's legal to be out dressed like that."

"Why would I want to shag Elvis?" She questioned, nose crinkling. "He's absolutely not my type."

Rose's elbow pressed against her arm, gently prodding. "What's goin' on?"

A sigh latched itself onto her next breath and she wondered whether honesty was truly the best policy as it had been a trying week since their night in Beijing: At least, it had been difficult for her having to navigate the Doctor's moods that changed from hour to hour.

After Rose eventually found her way back to the TARDIS sometime before lunch with a hangover that throbbed and with faint regrets clinging to her – he didn't even go down on me was one of the complaints Zoe suffered through later that day – and Jack strolled in with a cheery whistle following his night in jail, the Doctor gathered them in the kitchen and relayed his encounter with Zoe's mystery man. The news had sobered Rose up quickly and set Jack's face into stern lines, thumb rubbing over Mickey's knuckles as they sat side by side. In an attempt not to overly frighten them, the Doctor had softened a few parts of the encounter – namely with regard to the doomsday that was coming for them – but told them the truth as he knew it, including that Ryga wanted Zoe dead for murdering his partner.

It had been gratifying the way they immediately dismissed that as a possibility, warming her even as she remembered Lumic, something she had told no one but the Doctor. Though there was little they could do – little any of them could do until Ryga made another move – it was comforting to have the family aware of everything, even if Zoe hadn't enjoyed the phone call with Jackie where she looped her in on what was happening.

The sound of her mother's weary sigh down the phone had replayed itself on repeat and given her a few restless nights.

And without an immediate threat to deal with, life on the TARDIS returned to normal. A few trips here and there, one embarrassing tumble down a sand dune for Mickey, two nights spent in a town that was being haunted by ghosts but turned out to be the local Women's Institute having a bit of fun, and a family day out on an ocean safari on Neiahl. Ryga slowly drifted to the back of Zoe's mind, occasionally startling her when he popped to the fore, but he never left the Doctor's.

Ever since his interrupted dinner, he had been in an odd, almost manic, mood.

He alternated between calm acceptance that they would deal with what was to come, languidly confident in his ability to face whatever Ryga bought them, and a sharp, painful desperation that verged on clingy when it came to letting Zoe out of his sights. She missed it at first, his subtle attempts to keep her by his side – lazy mornings where he pinned her to the mattress with laughter and kisses and always one more when she tried to get up – before his efforts became less subtle and more like anvils. She sympathised with his fear because she understood it – the burn of his absence for four years in her life was still sore – but there were only so many times she could go to make a cup of coffee with him treading on her heels and rattling away about some inconsequential at a hundred miles an hour before she snapped.

Before hurting his feelings by demanding space, Zoe made the executive decision to take them to a live Elvis Presley concert. He loved Elvis's music, enjoyed 1950s New York, and the others were always up for something new, especially when it allowed them to dress authentically.

In a further attempt to make the trip extra special, Zoe had decided to wear an outfit that reminded her of Sandy from the end of Grease when she saw it in the wardrobe. As Rose said, it was tight and had taken Jack's steady hands to help her get into the strapless black jumpsuit that, once on, was mercifully easy enough to move in. The sight of her reflection in the mirror made her pause, the material looking as though it had been painted on, and even Jack was surprised by it before gleefully encouraging her to wear it out, finding her a pair of sharp red heels that put her eye to eye with him.

At least the leather jacket she wore over the top granted her a small aspect of modesty while the need for a drink clawing through her.

Had the Doctor not reacted as he did – every muscle in his body turning slack with surprise when she stepped casually into the kitchen, Mickey choking on his coffee at the sight of her and Rose's mouth dropping open – she would have felt ridiculous. Looking at her as though he had never seen her before, telltale signs of arousal turning his cheeks pink and his mouth dry, gave her the courage to leave the TARDIS dressed far differently than normal.

"It's for the Doctor," Zoe said, finally, not meeting Rose's eyes. "Thought it might cheer him up a bit."

Rose's eyelashes fluttered against her skin, trying her hardest not to think about why Zoe dressed like she was might work in lifting the Doctor's mood: Disgust, jealousy, and a sprinkling of bitterness warred inside her in the half of a second it took her to blink. Pushing those feelings away with a ruthlessness that worked for her, she looked at a point past Zoe's shoulder.

"Has it?"

"Maybe."

"Gross."

"You asked."

"An' now I regret it," Rose said, rubbing her chest, mouth twisted as her eyes swept over her sister again. "If I didn't know it was you, I definitely wouldn't recognise you. Should probably take a picture an' send it to Shareen. She'd never believe it."

"Don't you dare," Zoe said, swiftly. "I'm not about to be wank bank material for Deano, Chaz, and Dave, ta muchly."

"Yeah, think that boat's sailed," she said, Zoe's forehead twitching with a question. "New Year's Eve. You were wearin' that red dress with all your back on display? Thought Little Dave was goin' to blow his load right there when he saw you."

"Please stop." Zoe remembered the awkwardness of Little Dave asking her out years before – only months for him – and twitched her jacket over her stomach. "I don't want to think about it."

Rose snorted and twisted her head back to the TARDIS, annoyance beginning to settle around her eyes and mouth. "Honestly, what is takin' them so long?"

"Boys and their toys," Zoe shrugged. "Reckon we might be waiting a while. The last thing I head from them was Mickey cooing over a motorbike the Doctor's got stashed in there. God knows why though. If that man's ever been on a motorbike without falling off, I'll be surprised."

Fingers brushing back her hair as it caught in the breeze rolling down the street, Rose considered the idea. "That cute professor phase he went through. I can see him ridin' a motorbike then."

"Really?" Zoe asked, head tilting in thought. "I don't know. Maybe if Ace was driving I could see it but I think he was more likely to do it before with the face we first met. Couldn't you see him on a bike then?"

Rose hummed and thought of her leather-wearing Doctor with his big ears and leather jacket: It was months since his regeneration and she occasionally missed his old face with its elasticity and familiarity. His new one was lovely and very pleasant to look at but there was the soft hint of something mournful whenever she thought of the face she first met. She didn't know how Zoe reconciled herself between the two faces, although Rose imagined it was less of a problem for her considering how enthusiastic she had been about bedding the younger Doctor at the time travellers' conference.

"I s'pose," she said, quickly realising the silence was stretching too long and Zoe was looking at her with a question in her eyes. "He was definitely less clumsy then. Or maybe we just never saw him fall over stuff."

The Doctor had tripped over a chair that morning, limbs flailing as he took Jack down with him, Rose skipping out of the way lest she was also felled by the tumbling Time Lord.

"He does walk into things more than he used to," Zoe agreed. "It's a good job he's got that superior biology or I'd be afraid of a concussion."

Rose removed a piece of gum from her pocket and offered Zoe a stick. "D'you think he'll always been white?"

"What, when he regenerates?"

"Yeah." She folded the gum into her mouth and chewed. "Like, d'you think Time Lords can choose what they look like?"

"Some could," Zoe said, unwrapping her own gum and carefully placing the rubbish in her pocket, rolling her eyes when Rose's hand slipped in to discard her own pieces. "He had this friend who could choose her own appearance whenever she regenerated. She once went through like four of five different bodies before settling on one she liked and apparently, or so the Doctor says, she nicked that face from someone else."

"Weird."

"So I think it depends on the Time Lord," she told her. "Romana was special, even by Time Lord standards, but he says he's never been able to control it. Bit of a lottery all told, I reckon."

"That's kind of shit, isn't it?" Rose said. "What if he gets two heads?"

Zoe shrugged. "More of him to kiss."

"What if he's two foot tall?"

"I'll get him a foot stall."

"What if –" Rose rocked on her heels as she considered her options. "What if he turns into a woman?"

"Please," Zoe scoffed, rolling her eyes derisively at her. "I might actually prefer that."

Rose laughed. "Is that even possible?"

"Yeah, course," she said. "The Corsair used to alternate between male and female. When I met her, she was a woman but I think during the War he was a man."

Rose puffed out a sigh, head shaking. "Sometimes I forget he's so alien."

"We live on his space ship, doofus."

"Shut up," she grinned, elbowing her. "I'm so used to him now but every now an' then it hits me that he's an alien, y'know? If he ever turns up as a she, I think I'll need a minute to deal with that." She snapped her gum between her teeth. "Although, if he ends up looking like number eight again, that wouldn't be too bad. He was very pretty. All that hair. Those curls could have given yours a run for your money."

Following the meeting with his younger self and Ace at the time travellers' conference – Jack exactly as jealous as Rose had hoped he would be – Zoe dug out old photographs of the Doctor and shown them to her. The Doctor had taken Rose's ribbing with good humour, pleased that she was smiling, laughing, and joking; he had been less thrilled when Jack demanded to see the same pictures and had grumbled his way through the sexually charged remarks and fashion critique Jack laid at his feet.

Mickey, however, had taken one look at all of his faces and shook his head. "Mate...you're fuckin' weird."

Zoe laughed. "Not a chance. Mine are definitely better. He was gorgeous then though, wasn't he? Kind of made me think of Mr de Winter from Rebecca. That's what I always imagined him to look like."

"I was thinkin' more Heathcliff."

"I could definitely see him running across the moors yelling for Cathy."

"Zoe! Zoe!" Rose's theatrics pushing her away from the TARDIS and into her sister who caught her with a laugh and a stumble. "Never leave me! Come back to me!" Zoe slipped her arms around her waist and lifted Rose from her feet, spinning her in circles, making her scream in surprise, laughter tripping out of her. "Put me down!"

"Heathcliff is not someone I want the Doctor to take relationship advice from," Zoe said, dashing after her when Rose tried to escape, fingers tapping her shoulder – tag, you're it. "I'd rather skip the jealousy, bitterness, and all-consuming rage, thanks."

"What about Mr. Rochester?" Rose lunged for her but Zoe danced out of the way. "Does he have a wife locked away in the TARDIS somewhere?"

"If he's got someone locked up then I've got bigger problems than my relationship," she said. "If anything, I think he's more like Mr Darcy."

"He's not that socially awkward."

"Not any more," Zoe said, yelping when Rose poked the meat of her thigh, hand slapping down to catch hers. "Remember when we first met him and how he didn't do domestics?"

Rose tipped her head back and laughed. "I'd almost forgotten! God, we couldn't get him to sit down for dinner with Mum an' now they text. Or they did before you got caught started shaggin' him."

"Bah," Zoe said, waving her words away. "They'll get back to texting eventually. I hope. She actually asked about him when I spoke to her last night. She was all an' how's himself? I mean, I don't think she really cared because I could hear her flipping through the TV channels but it's definitely progress."

"Next thing you know, she'll actually say his name again."

"Here's hoping," she said, jumping back from the door as a horn blasted a warning.

Engines revving, the Doctor and Jack exited the TARDIS out on matching scooters that gleamed in the daylight – a far cry from the dusty, rusted machines the Doctor had shown her that morning – and pulled to a stop, feet touching the ground to keep them steady. Despite the Doctor tending to draw her eye more frequently than anyone else, Zoe found herself staring at Jack in appreciation. Predictably, he had embraced the theme of the day and looked like a 1950s greaser with dark jeans folded up at the bottom over scuffed boots with a white T-shirt stretched across his chest beneath a leather jacket. Both she and Rose let their gazes settle on him, watching as he lifted his aviator shades into his slicked back hair, looking handsome in a way that only he was able to manage.

A pointed cough pulled Zoe's attention from Jack to the Doctor who lifted an eyebrow at her. Grin stretching across her face at getting caught openly ogling their friend, she tossed the Doctor a wink. It wasn't that he didn't also look handsome with his hair styled into a quiff – unfortunately not wearing a similar outfit to Jack's because I need my pockets, love – it was just that, every now and then, Jack shone.

With a loud roar that made Rose wince and lift her hands over her ears, Mickey rolled out of the TARDIS on the back of a motorbike. Zoe knew next to nothing about cars and motorbikes, only what she had picked up from Mickey over the years as he used to babysit her in the mechanics while Jackie worked the occasional job and Rose was busy, and the only thing she thought when she saw the motorbike was big.

Dressed similarly to Jack, Mickey looked at them with a huge smile on his face, kickstand dropping to the ground.

"This is brilliant!"

Rose lowered her hands as the engine cut out and laughed. "D'you even know how to drive that thing?"

"Course I do, babe," Mickey said, sliding his sunglasses to the top of his head. "Used to take them out of the garage when one was in, for testin' purposes, course."

"Of course," Zoe grinned. "I think it suits you. It's very –" she gestured vaguely with her hand. "Motorbike-y."

"Many talents you have, Zoe Tyler, but motorbikes are not one of them." The Doctor swung himself off his scooter and stretched his long body out, tucking a helmet under his arm. "That's a Kawasaki Ninja H2R with an added booster pad so, actually, Micks, don't press the blue button, flames will come out of it."

"Amazing," Mickey said, immediately examining the button.

"Be honest," Zoe said, sliding up to the Doctor and linking their fingers together. "Who was the bike for?"

"Me."

"I said be honest."

"Ace." She snorted. "She liked bikes. Couldn't take it with her when she left because that baby is from 2015. Should probably drop it off to her at some point. We're close enough now that it won't make a difference." He looked down at her, eyes lingering on the swell of her breasts before he met her eyes. "You look fantastic, by the way. Have I mentioned that yet?"

"Once or twice every few seconds," Jack said from where he was bent over fixing his hair in the scooter's mirror. "And that's not including the time you tried to pull her off into a private room and Mickey had to intervene."

Forgoing embarrassment entirely, the Doctor grinned. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"No, no, I'm not criticising." Jack's grin turned wolfish. "Zoe looks fantastic right now. Sure you two don't want to stay behind while we go off and see Elvis?"

The Doctor perked up. "Is that a possibility?"

"No," Zoe said, his shoulders deflating. "I'm dressed and ready to go and we're doing this because you love Elvis. You can undress me later."

His hand slipped low on her back, mouth by her ear. "Is that a promise?"

"Geroff."

Pointedly ignoring the flirtation behind her, Rose looked around at street the Doctor had clumsily parked the TARDIS on: Parking in the middle of the road was never advisable but he also didn't particularly care.

"Y'know," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I thought we'd be goin' for the Vegas era with white flares an' the chest hair an' all that. Not this. It's all a bit...I dunno, drab."

"Drab?" The Doctor repeated, and she recognised the tone of voice that meant a lecture was coming, her brain tuning out before his next breath. "This isn't drab. This is New York in the 1950s. They're getting over the war and heading straight into global prominence with art, music, culture, politics. This is the place to be right now and there's nothing drab about it."

Rose yawned. "Uh-huh."

"And as for Elvis," he continued. "Well, you want to see Elvis when he was still called the Pelvis, you go to the fifties. This is before burgers and back when he still had a waist. Nah, 1950s, this is the time to be."

She levelled an amused look at him. "If you say so."

"I do say so!" His arm, draped over Zoe's shoulders, lifted to point at the scooters. "What's more, you get to see the fifties and Elvis in style."

"Not sure those can be described as in style," Rose said.

The Doctor's mouth popped open, offended, before an appalling American accent fell from his mouth that made Zoe recoil and Jack bark with laughter, Mickey shaking his head. "You going my way, doll?"

"I will pay you good money to never speak like that again," Zoe told him. "I much prefer your Scottish accent."

"Well, I know that," he said, leaning in to kiss her before hopping onto the back of his scooter. "Come on then, Rose. Since Zoe doesn't appreciate me, hop on."

"Right-o, daddy-o," Rose said, her accent significantly better than his. "Straight from the fridge, man."

His face lit up. "You speak the lingo!"

"Mum," Zoe explained as Rose hitched her skirt up her knees and swung onto the back of the scooter. She plucked a helmet from Jack's hand and squashed it down over her her, clipping it beneath her chin. "We'd watch Cliff Richard movies every Bank Holiday Monday. Got a stack of CDs knocking about somewhere that she whips out when she's feeling nostalgic."

"I knew your mother would be a Cliff fan." He handed Rose a helmet before looking across to Mickey. "You all right there, Mickety-Mick? Haven't set yourself on fire yet?"

"Not yet," he said, cheerfully. "Reckon we can go somewhere to really open the engine up on this one?"

The Doctor considered that as he turned the engine on, scooter thrumming between his legs as Rose tucked her skirt beneath her thighs to stop it catching.

"There's a great road on Drana actually, underwater but it runs the length of a continent and back again," he said. "It was built for tourists but it accidentally turned into a biking road. If we go early enough you might be able to get the road to yourself."

"Has everyone forgotten I was nearly killed on Drana?" Jack asked, Zoe's arms around his middle, chin tucked against his shoulder. "Or are we just forgetting that?"

"Drana's too nice to strike it off the list because you were nearly drowned," the Doctor said. "Sorry, old chap."

"I might just run away with your girlfriend for that," he said, looking over his shoulder at Zoe. "What do you say, gorgeous? You, me, and the open road? And Mickey too, of course. Not leaving him behind."

"Good luck keeping her caffeinated then, it's a full time job," the Doctor said, Rose laughing against his back. "All right then, enough jibber-jabber. Elvis isn't just going to wait around for us. Follow me, gang – team – fam. Dammit."

"One day," Jack said, amused, as the Doctor drove off with Mickey following them, the line of his back showing his eagerness at hurtling down the road at full speed. "He's going to settle on what he wants to call us."

Zoe pressed her cold nose against his cheek. "And one day he's going to get us to the right place."

"What?"

"We're not in New York."

Jack looked around them, scanning the buildings, and she watched as his face fell, disappointment heavy in his voice. "This is London, isn't it?"

The wind caught her laugh as Jack revved the engine of the scooter to catch up with the others who disappeared out of sight around a corner, Mickey clearly enjoying himself. From her seat, Zoe watched the back streets of London pass them by, not entirely sure of what area they were in but certain it wasn't Peckham. Red brick houses, neatly cared for even though poverty clung to the edges of the area, lined the streets on either side of them and she cast her eyes over the fashion of the people walking along the pavement. It seemed that they were at least in the right decade and judging by the amount of bunting strung overhead, something exciting was about to happen.

Her grip on Jack tightened, the smell of his soap lodging itself in her nose, as the few people who were out and about watched them trundle past; Jack was a cautious driver when he had a passenger and they were barely doing twenty miles an hour down the cobbled street which gave the residents plenty of time to stare. Their eyes lingered on Jack with open interest before their expressions immediately clouded into disgust and disapproval at the sight of her.

It was difficult to tell if the disgust was simply down to the way she was dressed or the colour of her skin.

She was willing to bet it was a combination of both.

"Right, you two," the Doctor said when they caught up with them at a junction. "I've got good news and bad news."

"We're in London," Jack said.

He blinked, taken aback. "Yep."

"1953 is my guess." Zoe eased back from Jack's body, enjoying the look of stupefaction on the Doctor's face. "Queen Elizabeth's II coronation, to be exact."

"How do you know that?" The Doctor demanded. "Did you check your phone?"

"Nope." Her mouth twitched. "You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Zo-e." The drawn out whine of her name had Mickey coughing a laugh into the handlebars. "Tell me."

"All right, she said, but brace yourself."

He placed his hands on his thighs and sat a little straighter, jostling Rose at his back. "Consider me braced."

"Okay, well, judging by low-level poverty that we see around us and the few shops that are still boarded up, we're in a post-war economy," Zoe said, slipping into the tone she had used when teaching the children at her makeshift school in France. "But there are cars on the street which means either World War One or World War Two. However, the number of cars tell me that this is post the Second World War. I thought maybe VE Day but there's a distinct lack of soldiers in uniform on the street and that tells me the war's been over for a while but rationing is still in effect."

His mouth opened only to shut again when she held up a finger, forestalling his question.

"I know that because that woman over there –" she pointed their attention to a middle-aged woman hurrying down the street to the bus stop in a grey coat and brown shoes. "– dropped her book and was panicked as she picked it up. I totally get panic when a book falls to the ground but the way she dropped into a crouch let's me know that it's really important to her, that and the way she's clutching her bag as though afraid she's going to lose what little money she has in there tells me it's most likely her ration book. All of that puts us somewhere after 1945 but before 1954 when rationing ended. And what was the biggest thing celebrated during that period with an excessive amount of bunting? The queen's coronation in 1953."

Mickey blinked, stunned. "Blimey."

"You complete an' utter nerd," Rose said, taken aback.

Jack arched back to face her. "You are so attractive when you're spitting out facts."

"Ah-ah-ah," the Doctor said, shaking his head. "You're wrong."

"I don't know, Doc," Mickey said. "Seems legit to me."

"She's forgetting something," he said.

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, am I?"

"1947, Elizabeth and Philip's marriage," the Doctor reminded her. "The first truly big celebration after the war. Bunting out, crowds everywhere, a joyous occasion for a war-torn populace and all that."

"You make a good point," Zoe agreed. "However, if I may make a counter point?"

He inclined his head graciously, enjoying himself. "You may."

"TV aerials." She nodded to the metal satellites screwed into the side of buildings. "Very few houses had TVs in 1947 but there was a huge rise in sales for the coronation because Philip pushed to have the event televised. It was the first major TV event of the 20th century. Therefore, Doctor, the man that I love: 1953, check it."

Unable to keep the grin from his face, Mickey slid his eyes towards the Doctor. "Is she right?"

The Doctor reached into his pocket and removed his screwdriver. Eyes on Zoe, he slid his thumb up the side, the tip turning blue and buzzing, before his eyes flicked down. His mouth twitched. "Yes."

Rose whooped and punched the air. "That's my sister!"

"How does it feel to take second place to your girlfriend?" Jack asked, leaning back into Zoe who had her arm around his chest, pleased with herself.

"Thrilling," the Doctor admitted, eyes holding Zoe's. "Jack's right, you've never been more attractive than right now."

"That's not what you said the other night when I wore that thing I found," she said, colour exploding through his face at the reminder. Rose and Mickey's faces twisted while Jack peered at her curiously. "No, I'm not telling you."

"Honestly, the two of you with your flirting," he complained. "It feels like I'm only getting half the story. Either tell me everything or stop teasing me."

"Don't you enjoy being teased?" Zoe asked, sweetly, rubbing her chin against his shoulder.

"Nope, sorry, can't do that," Jack said, pulling away from her. "It's like having my sister hit on me. I can hear the stories but I can't be dealing with that. Red line right there. Cauliflower. Cauliflower."

Rose's eyebrows lifted. "Cauliflower?"

"His safe word," Mickey told them.

"Why –?"

"Do you say cauliflower in the heat of the moment a lot?" Jack asked and Rose tipped her head to one side, conceding the point. He spun to face Zoe who remained perched on the scooter, bemused. "Stop flirting with me."

"That wasn't flirting," she said. "That was more...teasing."

"I'm sorry, this is where I have to draw the line," he told her. "I want to hear all about your sexcapades in as much detail as you can but having you tease me makes me want to break out in hives. God, I never thought I'd see the day I'd be telling a gorgeous woman to stop it but here I am. Mickey, quick, take my temperature."

Mickey snorted. "Drama queen."

"It's really hard not to take offence right now," Zoe said, lips forming a pout as she frowned. "I once saw you be receptive to a pig's flirtations."

The Doctor sighed. "He wasn't a pig. He was a Goajen and they just happen to look like Earth pigs on their hindquarters."

Jack reached out and took her face in his hands, skin warm and soft against her cheeks that he slowly squished until she resembled a fish.

"I love you very much," he told her, seriously. "And you're one of the most beautiful people I know but having you flirt with me feels incestuous."

Her mouth moved and he eased the pressure. "What about Rose?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"Just is," he said. "Besides, I've already kissed Rose so that boat's well and truly sailed."

"I'm sorry, you what?!" Zoe pushed his hands away and gaped at him, turning wide eyes onto her sister who looked supremely interested in the bunting overhead. "You snogged Jack? When?"

"At the Scottish place you went to with Queen Vic," Mickey said, shrugging when she looked at him. "Jack told me."

Her eyes fell onto the Doctor. "Did you know about this?"

"I suspected," he said, awkwardly. "I knew I walked in on something but I really didn't want to know what."

"And I'm the last to know?" Zoe asked, annoyed. "Really?"

"Oh no," Rose said, sarcasm dripping from her. "I wonder what that's like."

"Shut up." Her eyes rolled before looking with Rose's, curious. "How was it? Was it good? I bet it was good."

Releasing her face, he shook his head and ambled away from her, half listening to the back and forth between her and Rose about his kissing abilities. Mickey refused to be drawn into the discussion, preferring a dignified and aloof silence whenever they turned to him for verification, and Jack smiled up at the bunting. Idiots, he was friends with idiots. Pleased with the friendly bickering that, not too long ago had taken a sharp, painful edge, he watched the small British flags flap in the breeze, shivering on the string that stretched them from one building to another.

"I don't get it," he said, interrupting the sisters. "Why put out tiny flags. What's the point? Are people going to forget what country they're in?"

"It's buntin'," Rose told him. "An' it doesn't always have the flag on it. We used to have parties with them as kids in all sorts of different colours before Mickey nearly killed himself one year by runnin' into it."

"They'd stretched it across the doorway," Mickey shrugged. "It was goin' to grab a kid sooner or later."

"But why?" Jack asked, frowning at the bunting. "It's just – what even is it? Paper? Plastic?"

"Looks like laminated paper to me," the Doctor said. "And it's best not to ask too many questions about why these lot do things. I've been at it for centuries and still don't have any clue about the whys and wherefores." Forgetting Rose was behind him, he leaned back only to straighten quickly when she squawked and batted at his shoulders. "Oops, sorry. Lost in thought for a moment there. I wonder why the old girl brought us here. I think there may be shenanigans afoot."

"When aren't there?" Mickey asked. "Everywhere we go there are shenanigans."

"I know." His smile turned wide and toothy. "It's wonderful, isn't it?"

Rose knuckled his shoulder. "Where are we goin' then?"

"No idea," he said. "But follow me!"

The Doctor sped off – as much as the scooter allowed him to – leaving Jack scrambling to get back on his scooter, unceremoniously shoving Zoe back who yelped, Mickey rolling past them with a grin on his face. Winding down smaller and smaller streets, Zoe was beginning to think that, yet again, he had no idea where he was going or what he was doing before they pulled out of a sharp corner and emerged onto a residential street that boasted a small handful of shops.

Tucked away on the corner was a butcher's with a small line outside that was five doors down from a newsagents where the owner was chasing two young, shoeless children out with a broom opposite a hair salon that reminded Zoe she needed to get her hair cut soon. London felt so much quieter and smaller than she was used to, cosy in a way it wasn't normally. Arms looped around Jack, she let them fall back when he brought them to a smooth stop along the pavement: Swinging her leg off the back, heel hitting the ground firmly, she pulled her helmet off and –

"You should be ashamed of yourself."

Her body turned towards the vitriol, eyebrows lifting as a woman with milk-white skin and a sour expression on her round face glared at her. Zoe's eyes dragged over her, unimpressed, mouth lifting upwards as she saw the reason for her displeasure: Her husband stood at her side, suit a little too big for him, mouth slack as he stared at her unblinkingly.

"Parading around here like a tart," the woman hissed. "We don't want –"

"Oi, fuck off!" Rose snapped from the behind the Doctor whose face was clouding over in anger. Fortunately for the woman, Rose climbed off the back of the scooter and stepped forward, pointing at her husband. "It's your husband who's trippin' over his tongue. Might want to get a muzzle for him before you let him out in public again, yeah?"

She gasped, free hand fluttering to her chest. "How dare you talk to me like that? Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Someone's who's unsatisfied in bed judgin' from him," Rose shot back, huffing a laugh at the look on her face as Jack choked on his laughter. "Oh, I'm sorry, d'you not like bein' spoken to like this? Maybe you should've thought twice before callin' my sister a tart then. Fuck off out of here an' take the droolin' dog with you."

Anger and mortification rolled over her expression leaving them with no doubt that no one had ever spoken to her like that before. Grabbing her husband's hand, they were treated to the entertaining sight of her attempting to drag a gawping man down the street before her loud snap of Francis! brought him back to himself, the excuses beginning before they reached the corner.

"Bitch," Rose spat. "You all right?"

"Not the first time that's happened, probably won't be the last," Zoe said. "Thanks."

Mickey stepped off his bike. "Want me to throw a brick through their window?"

"What, like last time?" Rose asked. "Haven't you had enough trouble with the police?"

"Last time?" Jack repeated. "What happened last time?"

"There were these thugs hanging around the estate when I was thirteen or fourteen," Zoe explained, smiling when the Doctor took her hand, squeezing her fingers lightly and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I was coming home from school late and they were causing trouble by crowding me and spewing this vile sexual stuff at me when Mickey and Shareen came out of nowhere and scared them off. Micks found out where they lived though and went around with, who was it again? Rex and Deano?"

"An' Little Dave," he said. "Tossed a few bricks through their windows, warned them off comin' round the estate again. They showed up once after that but a group of us got together an' scared them off."

"That's awful," the Doctor said. "You were only a child."

She shrugged. "It's London, innit?"

"Don't go all London on me," he said. "You know what that accent does to me."

"Remind you of my teens?"

"Yes, it's weird because I've seen you naked since then."

"An' there we go for too much information," Rose sighed. "I think I preferred it when you two were keepin' it secret."

"I don't," Jack said, head appearing between them. "Tell me more, preferably in detail, please."

"You just said Zoe's like your sister," the Doctor said, hand in Jack's face, pushing him away. "And now you want to hear about her sex life?"

"I can hear about it but I can't participate in it," he said, stumbling back into Mickey who kept him upright. "There's a difference."

The small altercation hadn't drawn too much attention to them, at least not more than was their fair share given their means of transport and style of clothing. Moving along the street, eyes peeled for anything unusual, they attempted to look as discreet as their appearances loud. Sometimes Zoe thought the TARDIS enjoyed dumping them in the middle of a time and place when they were clearly not dressed appropriately just to entertain herself. It seemed like the sort of mischievous nonsense the ship enjoyed.

A sudden pull of her hand forced her to double step quickly to avoid falling over as the Doctor dragged her along in his wake, taking long strides towards a dusty van stacked with TV sets. A small grey-haired man slid a large banknote into his overalls and shook hands with his customer in front of the sign painted on the side of the van: Magpie's Electricals.

"There you go, sir," Mr Magpie said with a smile, brushing his hands off down the front of his overalls. "All wired up for the great occasion. You enjoy yourself now."

The Doctor slipped around the side of the van and looped an arm around Zoe to keep her on her feet, Jack, Rose, and Mickey crowding Magpie from the other side. Alarm passed across his face, fingers twitching around his neck; Zoe considered the effect all five of them at once had on people and sympathised.

"The great occasion?" The Doctor asked, cheerfully. "That's the Coronation then, yeah?"

Magpie eyed him, skin turning pink when he took in Zoe, eyes skittering determinedly away from her. "Any other great occasion I should know about?"

"The Korean War ends, Eisenhower becomes president in the States, the polio vaccine," he rattled off. "Plenty of great occasions to be looking forward to, but I suppose you mean British ones, eh?"

"Are you mad?"

"Yes," Mickey and Jack said in unison.

"Oi!"

"You can't be surprised by that," Rose told him.

He pulled a face at her and Magpie shifted, uncomfortable. "I don't know much about what you're saying but it's the queen's coronation. We've been planning it ever since the old king died – God rest his soul – and it's what we do best, innit? Bit of pomp and circumstance, get everyone involved."

"You British do enjoy a good elbows' up," Jack nodded, leaning against the van, one ankle lightly crossed over the other.

Amusement curled Mickey's mouth up. "Knees' up, mate. Knees, not elbow."

"Same difference."

"He's...American," Zoe explained after a beat. "Still getting used to slang here."

Magpie raised his eyebrows, nodding at her with a pointedness that bordered on rude. "And what are you?"

"French," she lied.

The Doctor coughed once to hide his amusement before Rose caught his attention, gesturing at the houses around them. He looked only to fail to see what it was that she felt was important. Her toes tapped against the ground and he considered that she was sending him morse code before she pointed, whites of her eyes flashing on a roll.

"The TV aerials," she said. "Look at 'em, it looks like everyone's got one. I remember our nan tellin' us that tellies were so rare they all had to pile into one house to watch it."

"Not around here, love," Magpie told her, patting his open door. "Magpie's Marvellous Tellies, only five quid a pop."

"That's cheap," Mickey noted, peering into the back of the van. "Good quality sets too. How you gettin' away floggin' them at that price?"

"Supply and demand," he explained with a shrug. "The more people want them, the more money I make. Don't matter if I sell 'em cheaper, I'll still be earning plenty."

"That's very patriotic of you," Jack said, removing a small nail file from his emergency beauty kit and rubbing it across the top of his middle finger to smooth the line out. He looked up at Mickey and smiled. "Think we should buy one, darling?"

Mickey smiled back at him. "Whatever you want, sweetheart."

"Right, well." Magpie awkwardly fumbled with the door, cheeks burnished red. "That's me done. Unless you want to buy one that is?"

"Not us," Zoe said. "We're just passing through. Good luck with business."

Eyes turned to the ground, he managed to shut the van doors without any of them moving out of his way to make it easier and nervously edged past Jack and Mickey. Rose slipped a new piece of gum into her mouth and chewed, watching him with open amusement. Only when the van's engines rumbled to life and black fumes spat from the exhaust did they step up onto the pavement, watching Magpie trundle away in his van.

"Racist, homophobic, or uncomfortable?" Rose asked.

"Probably just uncomfortable," Zoe said. "The five of us were crowding him a bit there. Surprised the TV's are going so cheap though. What's £5 in our money?"

"About £100," the Doctor replied. "Which is more or less the average weekly salary around him but it's still cheaper than they should be. Most TVs go for about £80 round about now and that's nearly £2000 in your money."

"Huh." She looked up at him. "Why do you have that information in your head?"

"Susan wanted a TV when we first arrived on Earth," he said. "I wasn't about to buy one for her without doing the research."

Rose popped her gum. "When you say buy?"

"I mean liberate."

"An' when you say liberate?"

"He absolutely means steal," Jack grinned. "Doctor. Shame on you."

"You can't be that surprised," he said. "I did steal the TARDIS."

"I'm not sure I like Zoe knockin' about with a thief," Mickey said, arms folded across his chest as Zoe snorted. "You might be a bad influence on her."

"Unlikely with this one," the Doctor said, kissing the top of her head. "Now, enough chinwagging. I'm beginning to think Mrs Moore was right, we do enjoy a good gossip. It gets us distracted half the time."

"Distracted from what?" Rose asked. "We don't know what's goin' on yet. For all we know, the TARDIS is just havin' fun with us."

"That is something she'd do," Jack agreed. "She's taken us on all sorts of adventures before that don't always mean something bad. Remember that time she took us to Yiop and we discovered those peach tart things? That wasn't bad."

"Was that before or after the tsunami?" Zoe asked.

"Yes, yes, the TARDIS is a naughty girl –" every one of them grimaced at that and the Doctor pulled a face. "Please don't tell her I said that, I'll never live it down."

"I'd like to forget you said that," Mickey complained, scrubbing at his ear. "Can we please get back on topic an' not your weird relationship with your ship?"

"It's not –" the Doctor sighed. "Fine. We're in 1953."

"Yeah, we know that," Rose said. "Thanks to Zoe."

His sliced his eyes towards her with an annoyance that only lifted when she popped her gum at him, amusement dancing across his face.

"Then you'll also know that this is a brilliant year," he continued. "One of the best actually. You've got technicolour coming in, Everest being climbed, Ian Fleming publishing the first James Bond novel." His voice suddenly took on a very English and very posh accent. "And the nation throws off the shadows of war and looks forward to a happier, brighter future."

The scream that tore through the air made them jump. Zoe startled so badly that she tripped and grabbed hold of the Doctor's coat, throttling him as she tried to stay on her feet, his arm reaching out to yank her up.

"That wasn't my fault," he said, quickly, as Jack's turned a judgemental face in his direction. "Jinxes aren't real. That was just a just a coincidence."

"Amazing how so many coincidences happen around you, isn't it?"

"That doesn't look good," Mickey commented, watching as the door to a house further down the burst open and two men in black suits bundled a person hidden beneath a blanket out of the it and into a waiting black car. "Really not good."

"No, please," a woman screamed, racing from the house with tears on her face and a floured apron around her waist. "Someone help me, please! Ted – TED! Leave him alone, please, he's my husband! Please."

Leaving the steadying curve of the Doctor's arm, Zoe ran down the pavement towards the disturbance, her heels slowing her down just enough for Jack to overtake her. She knew better than to wear heels out of the TARDIS when anything could happen and yet she never learned from his mistakes. Putting her foot down in a small crack along the pavement, her knee buckled and she tumbled, reaching out to grab hold of a teenage boy – no more than fifteen or sixteen – who had hurried out of a neighbouring house to see what the disturbance was. He cried out in surprise at having Zoe throw herself at him, his reactions swift enough to keep her from falling over.

"Hey." Jack placed himself between the police officer and the car. "What's going on?"

"Police business," the detective said, voice clipped as he attempted to move Jack physically from his path only to fail when Jack centred his weight. "Get out of the way, sir."

Jack stared back at him. "Where are you taking him?"

A baton lashed out and clipped against Jack's side, the pain spasming out, and a hand shoved him out of the way and into Mickey who slipped beneath him to soften his fall, frightened that his knees would revert to their damaged state if they hit the tarmac.

"Oi!" Rose slapped her hands against the side of the black car. "That's police brutality!"

"Rose, get back," the Doctor called a warning, reaching for her and snagging the back of her denim jacket to pull her out of the way as the car doors slammed shut and the engine revved. "Attacking someone like that, bloody cowardly thing to do."

Jack coughed up a lungful of exhaust fumes. "I've got London in my mouth."

Rose offered him a stick of gum.

"That was strange," Zoe said, looking to the teenager who she had her arm hooked around. Straightening up, she released him. "Hello."

Skin staining with colour, the boy kept his eyes firmly on her face. "Ma'am."

"You're polite, I like that," she said. "Who was it they took? Do you know him?"

"Must be Mr Gallagher," he replied, rubbing his arm where she had been plastered against him, the sound of the car screeching around a corner. "It's happening all over the place. They're turning into monsters."

The Doctor leaned forward. "Monsters, you say?"

"Tommy!" The boy jumped as his father appeared in the doorway, dark eyes glaring out at them, expression only darkening at the sight of Zoe and Mickey near his property. "Not one word. Get inside now!"

"Sorry," Tommy apologised, chin dipping to his chest, tension running through him. "I'd better do as he says. Good luck."

Zoe watched him go, a crease of concern pressing between her eyes before she met his father's furious expression evenly. A shiver of satisfaction ran through her as uncertainty settled in his jowls, a small hesitation in his fingers before the door shut on them. Turning away, she found Jack at her side, sat upon the scooter that he had doubled back to fetch, helmet in his hand extended towards her.

"Hop on, Zo, we're going for a ride."

"A car chase?" She asked, putting the helmet on. "They're already gone though."

"Gone from sight not from hearing," he said, swinging his leg over and revving the engine. "Now, come on."

"Don't let them get away," the Doctor called after them, dragging the others back to their bikes. "And hurry!"

It was quickly apparent to her that the scooters had been tinkered with. The lack of surprise she felt made her smile, the thought of the Doctor sitting on the floor of his garage surrounded by bits of scooter as he attempted to make it go faster was something she enjoyed. Holding onto Jack tighter, her fingers curling against the flat strength of his stomach, they rounded a corner a little too fast. Bodies dipping towards the ground, her trust in Jack was absolute, they rapidly closed the distance between them and the black car.

Stomach fizzing with the excitement of a car chase, she relished the adrenaline rushing through her and wondered if Mickey would teach her how to ride a motorbike when they were on Drana. He had offered to teach her to drive once, just after Rose came back into their lives with the Doctor and before she moved onto the TARDIS, but she had been so busy with studying for her A-Levels that she had turned him down. She hoped the invitation was still on the table as the thought of the two of them racing each other on Drana sent thrills through her.

Jack suddenly applied the breaks, her body shifting forwards into his, a small oof leaving her as they stopped on a road that led to a dead end.

"What?" He stared ahead of them, disappointed. "Where did they go?"

A man behind a fruit and veg market stall looked at them, disapproval clinging to him in a way that set Zoe's teeth on edge.

"Is this the right street?" She twisted around to look behind her. "Did we miss another turning?"

"No, this is the right one," he said. "They've just disappeared."

"Not possible," she replied. "That car had to go somewhere unless it's an alien car. Cloaking device?"

Jack stared at the fruit vendor, smile playing across his mouth. "Sometimes I forget that the old tricks I learnt are brand new in this time."

She frowned. "What do you –?"

The roar of Mickey's motorbike cut her off as the others caught up with them, the strap of the Doctor's helmet knocking against the soft skin of his throat, Rose's arms around his waist.

"You lost them?" He complained. "How the hell did you lose them?"

"Surprised they didn't turn back and arrest you for reckless driving," Rose said, poking him in the side. "Have you actually passed your test?"

"No."

She rolled her eyes. "Figures."

"Men in black? Vanishing police cars?" He listed as Jack waited patiently for a break in the Doctor's ramblings, grinning when he met Mickey's eyes. "This is Churchill's England not Stalin's Russia."

Rose worked her jaw, the strap too tight under her chin. "Monsters, that boy said. Maybe we should go and ask the neighbours."

The Doctor looked over his shoulder at her. "That's what I like about you, the domestic approach."

"Thank you." Pride suffused over her face that froze when a thought struck her. "Hold on, was that an insult?"

Before Rose clobbered the Doctor over the head with his own helmet, Jack cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows. "If you're both finished then I can tell you that we haven't lost them."

The Doctor held Rose at bay with an elbow. "Oh?"

He pointed. "The market stall. It's a clever trick in the here and now but it's been done to death by my time. You have a location that you make look normal and active but it's really just a front for the secret base behind it."

The Doctor's face widened in a grin. "Ooo, very nice."

"Before we start poking around here," Zoe cautioned when he made to clamber off his scooter, eager to stick his nose in where it might be chopped off. "Why don't we find out about these monsters first and see what we're dealing with. I don't really want to walk into something without knowing a bit about it first. It's like Jack always says, check the corners and doors before entering a room."

Mickey leaned back against his bike. "Sometimes I hear him say that in his sleep: corners an' doors, corners an' doors. It's a little weird."

"Do I really?" Jack asked. "What else do I say?"

"I want another pear was from last night," he said. Zoe pressed her forehead against Jack's shoulder, laughing quietly. "You were pretty insistent about it. You kind of just chanted pear, pear, pear for a bit an' then stopped."

"Zoe talks in her sleep sometimes too," the Doctor told them. "Normally in French and generally to do with baking."

She blinked in surprise. "I do?"

"Only when you're really tired," he said with a nod. "Remember that apple bread we had last week?"

Rose sighed blissfully. "That was so tasty."

"Got it from a recipe Zoe was muttering about," he said. "We should record the pair of you and see what other gems you have for us."

"Jack's stuff gets a little...R-rated," Mickey admitted.

"Does it now?" Jack turned the scooter so that he was facing Mickey. "What exactly do I say?"

"Don't we have monsters to investigate?" Zoe asked quickly, thoroughly uncomfortable with the idea of learning details of Jack's fantasies that she was sure were far more detailed and involved than anything she had ever heard of before. "Disappearing people? Other nefarious things."

"Thirty years old and still can't talk about sex." Jack patted her knee. "You're a cornucopia of intricacies, aren't you?"

"You wanted to say prudish then," she noted. "And I can talk about sex, I just don't want to talk about Mickey and sex. There's a big difference."

"Sex," the Doctor repeated, mouth wrapping around the word. "Funny little word, isn't it. Sex. It doesn't even sound like a word any more. Sex. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. Sex."

Rose closed her eyes behind him and gathered her patience to her chest. "Zoe's right. We need to go an' investigate."

"Agreed," he said before, unable to help himself, he uttered one last – "sex."

The sun was beginning to lower itself below the horizon when they arrived back on the street that the man had been taken from, pinks and oranges spreading across the sky as an inky blackness crept in. Zoe zipped her jacket up to keep the chill out and lingered on the pavement as the boys fussed over the scooters and motorbike, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip to refrain from telling them to hurry up; at her side, Rose hugged herself as the temperature of the day oozed away.

Slowly beginning to lose her patience with their fussing over machinery – and she never understood why bikes and ships captured people's attention so much – she cleared her throat; the Doctor's head popped up and blinked at her.

"Hello."

Idiot she thought, fondly.

"Why don't we split up?" Zoe suggested, the Doctor sticking his hands in his pockets and loping towards her. "Rose and I can take this side of the street, you three can take the others."

"Er –" Jack said in the way that she recognised as a prelude to him saying something she wasn't going to like. "Might be better if we have male-female teams for this one."

"Oh, do tell."

"It's the 1950s in Britain," he pointed out. "You're both women and you're also black, which is also why Mickey shouldn't be knocking on doors without me or the Doctor."

Zoe gasped and held her arms out in front of her, examining her hands as though seeing her skin colour for the first time. "I'm black. Am I really? I never knew. Rosie, how could you not tell me this?"

"Yeah, yeah." Jack waved his hand at her. "Point still stands that a black woman dressed like you isn't going to get the same answers as a white man who looks like me."

She shook her head with a sigh. "It's like we're in the fucking dark ages. Fine. Me and you then. Rose and the Doctor can do their...thing and Mickey can keep an eye on them. Sorry, Micks, but you've pulled babysitting duty tonight."

"Dammit," he muttered, hands in his pocket.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor interrupted. "Our thing?"

"You do have a thing," Mickey told them. "Always have. Bit of a double act an' everythin'."

Rose's tongue pressed against her teeth when she smiled up at him. He bumped hips with her before dipping his hand into his pocket. "Here, take the psychic paper. You two'll probably need it more than we will. A black woman and an American are going to need all the help."

Jack slipped it into his pocket. "Why am I always an American?"

"You sound it," the Doctor said before shooing them away. "Go, investigate. Rendezvous when we're done." He caught Zoe by the arm and tugged her to him, kissing her quickly. "Stay safe."

"You too," she said. "Mickey, keep an eye on them."

Mickey gave her a small salute and shared a fleeting kiss with Jack before hopping off the pavement and waiting for Rose and the Doctor to join him before setting off across the street to a row of houses with lace curtains and carefully pruned plants.

Jack offered his arm to Zoe. "Shall we?"

"Such a gentleman," she smiled, taking it as he led them down the pavement to a house she recognised. "This is Tommy's place, isn't it?

"Figured it was a good place to start," he said, pausing outside the gate. "He seemed the talkative type."

"The dad didn't."

"I'm sure you can handle him."

She grinned and plucked the psychic paper from his pocket, eyes sparkling. "Go on then, who do you want to be this time? FBI agents? MI5? London's secret police?"

He snorted. "How about Scotland yard?"

"Don't rightly think Tommy's dad would be too bothered about police officers," she considered, peering at the house. "You see those medals on his chest earlier? Military man. Definitely fought in World War Two. Probably something of a patriot."

"Representatives of Her Majesty the Queen?" Jack suggested, adopting a flawlessly posh English accent, startling her.

"Nice!"

"Accents," he shrugged, pleased. "One of my best classes at the Agency. Excellent in bed too."

"Tell me about it," she said without thinking. "The Doctor's Scottish accent really gets me –" she cut herself off with a blush, looking away from his knowing grin. "Never mind. C'mon."

She felt Jack's grin on the back of her head as she made up the path to the front door and rang the doorbell, falling back to stand next to him. Shadows passed across the glass of the door, bodies moving, before it opened and Tommy's father stood there filling the door frame. Recognition sent displeasure sweeping across his face.

"You again," he snarled. "We don't need your sort around here."

Zoe inclined her head as though curious. "My sort being?"

"A harlot," he said, sharply. "And a fuzzy to boot."

"Haven't heard fuzzy in ages," she said, eyes sweeping over him. "Let me guess, you served with soldiers from Africa when you were off defending King and country."

He sniffed. "What of it?"

"Just that your racism lacks imagination," Zoe replied, flipping open the psychic paper and enjoying how his face blanched as read the information she projected onto it. "As you can see, we represent Queen Elizabeth II and this great country. We're just here to make sure that everything's in order ahead of Her Majesty's big day. I'm Agent Scully, this is Agent Mulder. You don't mind if we come in, do you?"

The lines of anger and curl of racism drained from him as his entire attitude changed on a dime. He turned obsequious, half bowing to them as he stepped back from the door to let them in, chest expanding with pride at being selected by the queen's representatives. Not trusting a man who was openly racist to not change his mind and attack once Zoe got going, her mouth sure to run away from her, Jack stayed on top of her and touched her thigh to let her know he was right behind her.

"What a lovely home," Zoe said when she stepped into the living room where Tommy and his mother were sat in nervous silence. "I love the décor, Mrs...?"

"Connolly," Rita said, hands smoothing down the front of her dress, fingers twisting nervously in her skirt. "Please, do come in."

Her eyes darted nervously towards her husband, shoulders hunched in on herself even as she tried to stand straight.

"Now then, Rita, I can handle this," Mr Connolly said, shoulders rolling back. "This gentleman's a proper representative. Don't mind the wife, she rattles on a bit. Handsome bloke like you, I'm sure you know how it is."

"My boyfriend's more of the quiet type," Jack replied, fascinated at how quickly a man was able to change colour: Puce, he decided, was not a good look on the man. "But we don't mind a bit of talking. And it's lovely to meet you, Mrs Connolly. I'm Jack, this is Zoe. We're from the palace."

A blush stained Rita's cheeks in the face of Jack's smile. "Oh, my."

"And I'm not the one in charge, that's my partner here," he said, deliberately catching Mr Connolly's eyes. "She's my boss."

Connolly's face dropped, jowls wobbling. "Really?"

"Really, really."

"If he works hard though, he'll get a promotion to be sure," Zoe said, pointing at the bunting that was piled in one corner. "Is there a reason that's not up?"

Mr Connolly hesitated. Every part of him wanted to throw them out of his house: a black woman and a gay man were everything he stood against, the sordidness and illegality of their lives and their inability to ever be equal to him caused bile to gather in his stomach. Yet, they were representatives of the palace and his patriotism stayed his hand. Anger boiled up within him at the difficult situation he found himself in and he turned to his wife, eyes flashing, ignoring the small hitch of breath that caught in her throat – she was stupid for being frightened of him as he only hurt her when she needed it – and nodded sharply.

"I told you, Rita, didn't I tell you?" The fact that she had been planning to hang the bunting that morning and he had told her not to be silly, no one was coming around until tomorrow, slipped his mind completely. "Get them up, quickly now. For queen and country. Hurry."

"I'm sorry," Rita whispered, a delicate tremble rolling through her. "I'll do –"

"Get it done," Connolly snapped, making her jump. "Do it now."

"Just a moment," Jack said, pleasant enough to other people's ears but Zoe knew what he sounded like when he was swallowing back his anger. "Why don't you hang them instead of getting your wife to do it? Is there something wrong with your hands?"

Bewilderment passed over his face, and Zoe almost felt sorry for him. The world was changing around him yet he was trying desperately to cling onto a past that was becoming rapidly outdated.

"Well, it's housework, innit?"

"So?"

"That's the woman's job."

Jack wondered if he was ever get used to the gender politics in the 20th and 21st century. The books that Sarah Jane had recommended to him when they had had lunch the day after Jackie's birthday party, K9 bumping into their feet in the restaurant and making a group of small children laugh, were helping him to understand the development of LGBTQ+ rights in the 21st century. With that came a discussion of gender and the archaicness of it all was dizzying to Jack.

Three thousand years stretched between his time and the 21st century and he had to remind himself to make allowances for that but, sometimes, he wanted to it was all so archaic and backwards that Jack sometimes wanted to scream.

Even Zoe, who by all standards was more liberal and understanding than most because of her unique history of living in different sections of time, stumbled occasionally when it came to understanding and talking about gender. And if someone as intelligent and compassionate as Zoe was unable to understand it effortlessly then someone with a narrow-minded outlook such as Mr Connolly had no chance of changing his stripes without a lot of pain, suffering, and loss along the way. However, the difference was that Zoe – and Rose and Mickey and Jackie – wanted to change and be better, they wanted to understand.

He doubted Mr Connolly would consider it worth the effort.

Rubbing the lines from his forehead, Jack sighed. "You live here, don't you?"

"Course I do."

"Then pitch in and decorate your house," he said, temper fraying on the edges of his words. "You don't think the queen goes around stringing up her own bunting, does she? No, of course she doesn't. She's got men to do that for her so, if you don't mind, get to it. Chip-chip."

Zoe passed a hand over her mouth and murmured, "chop-chop."

"Chop-chop," he corrected.

There was a beat of hesitation where Jack wondered if Connolly was going to push back against being given orders in his own house – everyone Jack knew certainly would have – before he swallowed back his pride and nodded.

"Right. Yes, sir. You'll be proud of us, sir." Connolly snapped to action, fumbling with the puddles of bunting as Rita watched him in silent amazement, Tommy blinked as though unable to believe his eyes. "We'll have Union Jacks left, right and centre."

Zoe's sympathy for a man struggling to live without the structure of war was outweighed by the fact that he was a racist so she interrupted. "Union Jacks?"

Connolly looked at her with an uncertainty that was clearly more to do with Jack than Zoe. "Yes, that's right, isn't it?"

"That's the Union Flag," she told him, politely. "It's the Union Jack only when it's flown at sea. You should know this, Mr Connolly. Patriot that you are."

"Oh." He blinked, colour creeping into his cheeks, embarrassed, and looked down at his hands. Okay, Zoe thought, enough now. "Oh, I'm sorry, I do apologise."

"Easy mistake to make."

She turned from him in a clear dismissal that she knew would rankle, sitting on the sofa with a stunned Mrs Connolly and Tommy. She imagined that not many people spoke back to Mr Connolly and got away with it.

Jack sat next to her, leaning a little too close so as to murmur into her ear, "Union Flag?"

"Mum dated a sailor for half a minute when I was ten," she whispered before turning her most charming smile onto Rita and Tommy, making herself comfortable by tucking her feet neatly to one side, hands folded in her lap. "Anyway, as we were saying, we're Zoe and Jack. Now, I know we met earlier – apologies for falling all over you and all that – but we didn't get your name. Who are you?"

He was able to meet her eyes this time, helped along by the fact that she was sitting, her jacket was zipped up, and she had just put his father in his place. "Tommy."

"Tommy," she repeated, patting the space on the sofa between her and Jack encouragingly. "Lovely name Tommy. Short for Thomas, is it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She nudged him with her elbow. "You can call me Zoe. Ma'am makes me feel like I'm an adult."

He ducked his head, hiding his laugh in a way that she recognised – hand over his mouth, a slight shame to it; clearly the Connollys wasn't a house where laughter was given free rein. Patting his arm kindly, she heaped her charm onto Rita Connolly whose hands were clasped in her lap, eyes sliding over to her husband every few seconds as though unable to believe what he was seeing.

"You've a truly lovely home, Mrs Connolly," she complimented. "I like what you've done with the space."

"Thank – thank you," Rita said, quietly. "It's my mother's home really. I –" Mr Connolly knocked his elbow into the wall heavily and she blanched, fingers flying to her pearls. "I mean, thank you. Th-thank you, it's very kind of you to say so."

"I like your TV," Jack said. "I don't have one myself but it's something else, isn't it?"

Tommy's face brightened with a smile. "I think it's brilliant."

Zoe doubted he was given the opportunity to smile much with his father in the house and imagined his childhood when Mr Connolly was at war was a nicer, kinder time. Giving him a small wink, he blushed and looked down at his knees as she used the reflective surface of the TV screen to check on Mr Connolly and saw that he was absently trying to string the bunting as he listened in. Deciding that time was of the essence with a powder keg like him in the room, she switched tracks and jumped away from small talk.

"We know something's wrong," Zoe said. "Whatever happened on the street with your neighbour clearly isn't right. If you tell us then we can help you. We've dealt with far stranger things before."

"Not like this," Tommy whispered, eyes flying wide, not having meant to speak. His body ran tight with tension. "I mean, this is – no one knows what it is."

"Maybe not yet," Jack said, leaning forward. "But Zoe's right, we've dealt with some very strange things in our time. Things that you can't even imagine. So, whatever this is, we can help you. It's what we do."

Rita chewed on her bottom lip, dry flakes of skin cracking beneath her teeth. "Can you help her?"

"Help who?" Zoe asked.

She opened his mouth but it was Connolly who spoke first, cracking later than either Zoe or Jack expected.

"Hold on just one minute." The bunting fell into an angry pile at his feet, angry colour splotching his cheek, and Zoe felt rather than heard Jack sigh at her back. "Queen and country's one thing, but this is my house! I won't have this." Rita flinched when he strode forward, and Jack rose to his feet, positioning himself between Connolly and his wife, confident that Zoe was able to handle him if he threw a punch. "Now you listen here, Agent Mulder. You may work for the queen but what goes on under my roof is my business!"

"Mr Connolly," Jack said with more patience than he deserved. "A lot of people are being taken under cover to –"

"I am talking," he roared, spittle flecking Jack's cheek. "And I –"

"Be quiet!" Jack shouted back, the strength of his voice startling Connolly into silence. Zoe stared in amazement as she had never once heard Jack raise his voice in anger; he barely even shouted when they were in danger, preferring to whistle and conduct a series of complicated hand gestures that no one ever understood. "Listen to me and listen to me carefully. Something bad is happening here, you've seen it yourself. People are being taken out of their homes by police and locked away somewhere that's hidden. None of that is normal no matter what you've told yourself so that you can stop being afraid. There's trouble on this street and that trouble will come into this house, just like it came to your neighbours, if you don't let us help. So I'm asking you, politely, to tell us what's going on before it's too late!"

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Zoe and Jack looked up at the ceiling, startled.

"Well, that's terrifying," Zoe said. "What on earth's that?"

"She won't stop," Mr Connolly said, anger draining from him, his face lined with exhaustion. "She never stops. It's constant. That thump-thump thumping. Every night. Every day. Thump-thump-thump."

"Who?" Jack asked. "Who is she?"

"My gran," Tommy said, quietly. "We started hearing stories all round the place about people who've changed. Families keeping it secret because they were scared. Then the police started finding out about them but we don't know how, no one does. They just turn up, come to the door, and take them, any time of the day or night."

Jack considered the information. "When did this start happening?"

"About a month ago," Rita whispered, pale beneath her powdered make up and overhead light. "It's got worse in the last week though. More and more people...it keeps happening."

"What keeps happening?" Zoe pressed. "Why do the police come and take these people?"

"It's...it's their faces..." Tommy said, struggling. "They don't have faces."

Zoe and Jack stared at him.

"They don't have –" Jack began, shaking his head. "Show us. Please."

Hesitant, Tommy looked to his mother who nodded her permission when her husband remained quiet, defeated.

Stepping around his father, Tommy took Zoe's extended hand and led her and Jack up the stairs into a darkened hallway to a locked door. He knocked gently against the wooden pane before taking the key from Rita who hung back in the shadows, nervous and afraid, and unlocked the door. The room was dark and there was a sweet smell within – like fruit rotting in a bowl – and Zoe and Jack stepped inside. In front of a window, framed by the moonlight, was an old woman in her nightgown. Tommy turned a lamp on and, like a moth detecting light, she turned.

Zoe sucked in a startled breath and Jack's fingers brushed against hers in surprise.

Her face was gone: No eyes, no nose, no mouth. Nothing had been pulled out or carved off as her face was a smooth stretch of skin over bone leaving a blank, empty, and utterly terrifying canvas.

"My god," Zoe breathed, reaching into her pocket to remove her glasses. She slipped them on over her nose and her vision righted itself as she stepped up close to the woman. "Jack, there's nothing there. There's not even a mark."

"It's just completely gone," Jack said, hand reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone, activating a scan that he ran over the woman's face. "There's not even an electrical impulse. It looks like an almost complete neural shutdown. She's still alive but it's like her brain's been wiped clean."

"Let me see that," she said, taking the phone. "Even with memory wipes, there's still something there. Like a path that's been swept clean but reclaimed by nature. There's always something left behind."

"Not here."

"What're we going to do?" Tommy asked, worriedly. "We can't even feed her."

Below them, there was a loud, thundering pound against the front door and shouted voices. They heard Connolly's slow, heavy footsteps move from the living room except he was too late, the impatience of those at the door leading them to kick it open, shattering it from his hinges and making Rita scream.

"Company," Jack noted, spinning to face Tommy. "Tell us everything and tell us quickly. What was she doing before this happened? Where was she? Did she eat anything? Speak to anyone? Do anything unusual?"

"I – er –" Tommy panicked, his mind going blank. "I can't think! I'm sorry. She – she doesn't leave the house. She was just –"

Dark suited men, similar though not the same as the ones earlier, stormed the room. Jack shifted and jumped in front of Zoe and the old woman, mouth opening to stop them, when a fist slammed into his jaw and he hit the ground. Lunging forwards, Zoe caught the man's arm on its backwards swing and she twisted it behind his back, shoving him face first into a wall only to be grabbed around the waist and unceremoniously flung out of the way, bouncing off the stale bed, knocking over a full glass of tepid water that soaked into the carpet.

Above her head, Tommy and Rita were arguing with the men who grabbed the woman and threw a blanket over the top of her, following them down the stairs as they argued and protested, begging for her to be given back to them. Pulling herself back to her feet, Zoe staggered to Jack and helped him up, up onto her knees and checked on Jack who was shaking the punch off, looking groggy and annoyed, blood swelling like a tear droplet on his split lip.

"You okay?"

"That was a better right hook than I thought it'd be," he groaned, stretching his jaw out and smearing the blood over his cheek. "Ow."

"Come on," she said and, once she was sure he was fine, sprinted down the stairs as fast as her shoes allowed her and past a sobbing Rita outside the house who was begging the men not to hurt her mother, Tommy holding her in his arms, horrified. "Jack, come on!"

She forced herself past Mr Connolly who was standing by the door yelling at his wife and son to get back inside, neighbours peeking out from behind their curtains, some venturing to step out onto their front porches. At the end of the street, framed by the street lamp, the Doctor, Rose, and Mickey were watching the events unfold with interest.

"But, Dad," Tommy protested, pale in the starlight. "They took her!"

"Don't fight it, son," he said, shaking his head. "Just don't fight it."

"Jack," Zoe yelled, grabbing hold of their scooter. "Come – on!"

Jack hurtled out of the house and nearly tripped over Rita before he jumped onto the scooter in front of her. She grabbed hold of him as he gunned the acceleration, the wind whipping at her as they gave chase, helmets forgotten in the rush. Twisting through the streets, following the same path as earlier, they were still not quick enough to stop the market stalls from being dragged across the door. The sight of covered fruit and vegetables might have made Zoe laugh under other circumstances but she didn't have time as Jack doubled back, engine humming, and parked the scooter on another street.

Taking her hand he led them between houses and startled a cat that hissed at them before skittering behind some bins. Casting their gazes about for security cameras – unlikely given the time – they crept across the street and ducked down behind the market stall.

"The Doctor may have a sonic screwdriver," Jack said, removing a small toolkit from his pocket. "But I have an actual screwdriver."

"That's not as impressive as you think it is," she whispered.

Slipping in through the grating that Jack pried apart, they found themselves in a shadowed warehouse where the temperature plunged. Keeping close to the corner, they watched as the two men from the Connollys' house locked a wire cage with what looked like mannequins inside. Considering that Zoe's last experience with mannequins had been the night they came alive in London, startling her on the way back from college when she paused to look in a shop window at a coat she couldn't afford, she eyed them warily.

"C'mon," Jack murmured. "Quickly."

Pulling her shoes off to move silently, they closed the distance as the men disappeared into the office for what she assumed was a cup of tea and a biscuit. Standing at Jack's back as he picked the lock, the cold soaked into her feet and forced her to shift her weight back and forth between them until they were inside. Quickly pulling her shoes back on, she removed her phone and activated the flashlight, taking a step back into Jack at the sight of the faceless people standing there silently, their fists clenching rhythmically at their sides.

"This is strange," Zoe whispered to Jack, flicking open her scanner and moving carefully between the bodies to get their information. "Same readings but there's no pattern to it. Different genders, different ages, and different health, but there's nothing linking them together."

"Not biologically anyway," Jack said, peering into the blank faces and touching his fingers to their cheeks. "But there's always something to link victims together. Always."

"You sure about that?"

"At least in my experience," he said. "Could be something they ate, somewhere they went. There has to be a connection."

"We need to find out who these people are then," Zoe said. "And we need to start looking for –"

The room flooded with light, cutting her off. Lifting her arm to protect her eyes from the brightness, she made out a group of men pointing their guns at them. At her side, Jack sighed and slowly raised his hands.

"Stay where you are," a detective barked. "You're under arrest."