Here we go with the Idiot's Lantern! I've got a very interesting twist planned for this story, oh my yes...

Also, thank you so much, LuciferRedemeed, as always, for the lovely review! Very glad you're enjoying it.

"Ohh-kay!" Barry exclaimed, looking around as he adjusted the homburg hat he was wearing to a jauntier angle, and pulling at his suit. "The '50s, right?

Vegas era, white flares, Elvis, all that?"

"Late fifties, yep!" the Doctor called as he rode a motorbike out of the TARDIS. "The time before burgers. When they called him the Pelvis and he still had a waist. What's more, you see him in style. Goin' my way, dude?"

Barry jumped behind his friend.

"So, where we off to?"

"Ed Sullivan TV Studios," the Doctor yelled over his shoulder. "Elvis did Hound Dog on one of the shows. There were loads of complaints. Bit of luck, we'll just catch it."

"And that'll be TV studios in, what, New York?" Barry asked.

"That's the one!" the Doctor agreed cheerfully as they drove past a London double-ducker bus, a red post box, and lots of Union Flag bunting.

"Well, this could still be New York," the Doctor shrugged. "I mean, this looks very New York to me. Sort of Londony New York, mind."

"You got the location wrong, didn't you?" Barry smirked.

"No," the Doctor protested. "Not necessarily. Well, I mean, maybe…"

As it turned out, they were in London, 1953, just in time for Elizabeth II's coronation.

"Oh, but this is a brilliant year," the Doctor exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "Classic! Technicolour, Everest climbed, everything off the ration. The nation throwing off the shadows of war and looking forward to a happier, brighter future."

"Cool," Barry smiled, but then whipped his head around as he heard a scream. Two heavy-set, black-suited men, in Barry's opinion perfect models for a Men In Black movie, were bundling another person into the back of a van with a blanket over his head.

"Leave him alone!" a woman cried. "He's my husband! Please."

"What's going on?" the Doctor demanded.

"Oi, what are you doing?" a boy a few years younger than Barry cried, running out of the house.

"Police business," one of the men snapped gruffly. "Now, get out of the way, sir."

"Who did they take? Do you know him?" Barry asked, spinning to look at him.

"Must be Mister Gallagher," the boy said quietly. "It's happening all over the place. They're turning into monsters."

"Yeah? What kind of monsters?" Barry asked, but was forestalled by the boy's father yelling at him. Clenching his teeth, Barry rushed forward and yanked the hood off the man, shoving the two policemen aside, then froze in shock. In his time with the Doctor, he'd seen all kinds of things, but underneath the hood, there was…nothing. No face, not even facial features, just a blank, flesh-colored slate with the faintest suggestions of eye sockets.

"What…" he began, but he'd been thrown off by the shock, and when the hand landed on his shoulder, he turned just in time to get a fist to the face. Stars exploded in his vision, and the world went black.

"Barry? Barry, can you hear me?"

"Urgh," he explained, succinctly. His head was pounding, and the stars had come out and were circling around his head. One of the tweety birds looked really familiar.

"Barry!"

"What?" He sat bolt upright, then groaned. "Owww."

"You okay?" the Doctor asked as a car engine revved.

"Yeah, fine," Barry shook his head. "Not my first time."

"Come on, we need to get after them," the Doctor ordered, and Barry pushed himself to his feet.

"You go, I'm gonna talk to these guys. Psychic paper?"

The Doctor fished it out of his pocket and tossed it to Barry one-handed as he gunned the motor. "Good luck!" he called, and was gone.

"Right," Barry inhaled through his nose. "Always wanted to be a CSI…"


"Hey," he said, knocking at the boy's door a few seconds later and holding up the psychic paper when the father answered. "My name's Barry Allen, I'm with, uh, Metropolitan Magazine, doing a feature on the upcoming coronation. Just interviewing some families, you know, getting some local flavor. Can I ask you some questions about it?"

As the man opened his mouth, Barry grinned at him and stepped around the man, into the house.

"Awesome. Thanks. Any chance of some tea? So, seen anything weird recently?"

"No sir, nothing at all, nothing whatsoever. Everything's perfectly normal! Rita, get the kettle up for this gentleman, would you?"

"Hang on, you can't do it yourself?" Barry protested. "Man, that sounds pretty upsetting, not even able to boil your own tea."

"What-well, I mean-I…"

"You mean, you can do it yourself? Great! Get to it!" the younger man ordered cheerfully, thinking back to something Sarah Jane had told him on Christmas. When you're investigating, always ask if someone's seen anything weird. Sometimes, they'll tell you straight up; sometimes, they'll only give you hints. But even when they say there's nothing, that'll give you a clue in itself. The only time someone will ever tell you immediately that there's nothing weird or wrong, is when they're trying to cover it up.

"Okay, so now that he's outta the way," Barry smiled at the other two. "Nice to meet you, ma'am. What's your name?"

"Rita," the woman said quietly. "And this is Tommy."

"Heya," Barry said, shaking their hands. "So, Tommy, you said something about monsters?"

As the boy and his mom exchanged glances, he leaned forwards, trying his best to imitate the Doctor's patented I'm-here-to-drink-tea-and-save-the-day-and-I'm-all-outta-tea look. "Listen, I know I'm young, but trust me, I've seen all kinds of monsters, and fought them too. All kinds of weird things. That friend of mine? He's called the Doctor, and him and me, we travel around helping people. It's what we do."

"Well…it's just, there's all these people," Tommy murmured. "They get picked up and taken away. And my gran, she, she was just sitting here, watching telly…we were in the kitchen, see, helping dad get supper ready, and then…"

"Can you help her?" Rita asked tearfully, leaning forwards. "Please?"

"I'll do everything I can, but you need to tell me everything you know," Barry promised. "Any clue could be vital."

"Now then, Rita," Mr. Connolly said as he came back in, making Barry jump. "I don't think the gentleman needs to know."

"No, the gentleman does," Barry said calmly, and turned back to Rita. "Tell me, please. You were in the kitchen, and…"

Rita burst into tears, and Barry swiftly handed her a box of tissues from a nearby table and rubbed her shoulder. "Hey. It'll be okay. I promise. It's okay."

"Now hold on a minute," Mr. Connolly growled. "This is my house!"

He strode forwards, and Barry rose slowly to meet him. "Now you listen here, Mr. Allen. You may have fancy qualifications, but what goes on under my roof is my business."

"Not if people are being bundled into…" Barry began.

"I AM TALKING!" Mr. Connolly bellowed, no doubt imagining himself to be quite intimidating.

"Yeah? Well guess what—I'm not listening!" Barry snapped back, taking a step forwards himself. "Now, I've seen things you couldn't imagine. I watched my mom get murdered right in front of me at eleven years old by a man with powers I couldn't even comprehend. I've traveled through time and space, stared down ghosts, Daleks, Cybermen, Sontarans, an actual freakin' werewolf, and the Devil himself. I've watched a planet burn and a whole solar system turn to dust. I am not. Afraid. Of you. Now, listen to me—you are in more trouble than you can comprehend, so for God's sake, let me help you!" Barry yelled.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Both men's gazes went slowly upwards. "And that is…"

"That's Gran," Tommy said meekly from behind him. Barry turned his gaze back to Eddie.

"She won't stop," the man said quietly. "She never stops." "We started hearing stories," Tommy put in. "All round the place. People who've changed. Families keeping it secret because they were scared. Then the police started finding out. 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."

"The whole face just," Barry gestured, "Wiped off?"

Tommy swallowed and nodded.

"And you said she was watching TV…" Barry trailed off as he remembered the truly excessive number of aerials in the neighborhood. He shifted the set around, revealing (as he'd expected) the logo of Magpie Electricals. He rose and strode out the door.

"I think it's time I had a bit of a word with Mr. Magpie…"

For an instant, Tommy could've sworn he saw a flash of lightning through the window.

"Where'd he go?" his father demanded helplessly.


"Hey there," a voice said from behind Magpie. "Got any TVs left?"

Turning, Magpie beheld a young man with a friendly smile and messy brown hair entering his shop. Another one.

"Sorry sir, I'm afraid you're too late. I was just about to lock the door."

Unfortunately, the young man didn't seem to get his hints, insisting that he needed somewhere to watch the Coronation.

"I'm sure you'll find somewhere to watch it," Magpie pleaded. "Please go."

"Shouldn't be a problem, yeah," he nodded. "Seeing as half of London's got one, I mean, you're pretty much giving them away."

"I, uh, have my reasons."

"And what are they?" the young man asked, with a steely look he recognized from far too many comrades in the War.

"Hungry!" She cried, appearing on one of his screens. "Hungry!"

"What's that?" the young man asked.

"It's just a television. One of these modern programmes," Magpie waved him off. "Now, I really do think you should leave. Right now!"

"Not until you've answered my questions," Barry shook his head, striding forward. "How come your televisions are so cheap? No, don't tell me, let me guess—something's making you sell as many as possible, right? Whatever it is that's scaring you? Something using your TVs to steal people's faces? And judging how scared you are, and how you were trying to get me to leave, it threatened to do the same to you?"

"Ooh, this one's sharp!" a woman's voice said from behind him, and Barry wheeled around. "Sharp as a razor and smart as paint!"

"Aw, shucks, you're too nice," Barry said, leaning forwards to talk to the woman in the TV. "What are you? Are you actually, like, inside the TVs, or just using them as a medium?"

"Oh, you're just so clever, aren't you?" the woman sneered. "I am the Wire."

"What, like the one from Baltimore?" he asked innocently.

"I'm so hungry!" she cried, and energy lanced out at him, grabbing and striking his face. It pulled, as if his skin were just putty. He tried to pull back, tried to speed away, but it held him in a grip that made iron feel like silk.

"Oh, this one is a feast!"

Distantly, he heard Magpie apologizing, and the Wire crowing in triumph, but everything was agony, and then…nothing.


First came consciousness, a single spark in the darkness. Awareness. That awareness expanded to fill his body—body, he had a body—and he was aware of

his limbs, hands, fingers, feet, and toes, all tingling as if he'd been asleep for a long time, like when he'd come back from vacation on the coast and had been woken up late in the morning by his dad.

Dad.

My dad.

Home.

My name is Barry Allen.

"Whoah!" Barry cried as he stumbled forward, bumping into something in front of him. As he came back to himself, he realized that he'd been stuck in a pen with a whole group of other people, whom he guessed had been the other victims of the Wire. Judging by the fact that he had his own face back, the Doctor must've saved the day, as usual. As a cop unlocked the bars, everyone streamed out, and he grinned at the others and stretched. Running footsteps made him look around, and he smiled to see Tommy run into the arms of an older lady who was presumably his gran. He smiled wider as the Doctor rounded the corner as well, and they hugged tightly, Barry just breathing in his friend's scent and burying his head in the Doctor's shoulder.


"Knocked unconscious twice in a day, that's a new record for you," the Doctor said cheerfully as they each filled a cup of orange juice at the street party.

"We could go down the Mall, join in with the crowds," Barry suggested, eager to change the subject.

"Nah, that's just pomp and circumstance," the Doctor said, snagging a cupcake. "This is history right here."

"And free snacks," Barry agreed, doing the same.

"Exactly!" the Doctor grinned, his mouth full. He explained (through bites of cake) that he'd climbed to the top of the Alexandria Palace TV aerial and trapped the Wire on a tape.

"So that thing, is it trapped for good on video?"

"Hope so," the Doctor nodded. "Just to be on the safe side though, I'll use my unrivaled knowledge of trans-temporal extirpation methods to neutralize the residual electronic pattern."

Barry frowned. "You mean you're gonna get rid of it?"

The Doctor mock-frowned back at him. "Basically, yeah."

Barry snorted at him and leaned over to grab a peach, which he tossed into the air and caught again. While the Doctor leaned over to talk to Tommy, Barry cheerfully tried juggling several pears at super-speed. Instead, one fell on the ground, one he barely managed to fumble, and one bounced off his arm and back onto the table.

"Uh, Doctor?" he began, but they were distracted by the sight of Eddie Connolly leaving his home, hat on head and bag in hand.

"Good riddance," the boy said quietly.

"Is that it, then, Tommy?" the Doctor asked in the tone of voice he always used to test someone. "New monarch, new age, new world. No room for a man like Eddie Connelly."

"That's right. He deserves it."

"Tommy, go after him," Barry said quietly. "What for?" "He's your dad." "He's an idiot."

Barry snorted. "Yeah. But you're smart. Smart enough to save the world, so don't stop there. Go on. At least say goodbye. Trust me. You don't want to leave your goodbyes unsaid."

Glancing from the Doctor to Barry, the boy nodded and ran off. They clinked their glasses in a toast and drank as music played and all around them, people laughed and partied.

"So, uh, Doctor?" Barry said.

"Yep?" the Time Lord asked cheerfully, leaning over for another nibble.

"I, uh, kinda don't have my speed anymore."

"What?"


Back in the TARDIS, the Doctor scanned Barry with the sonic. "Residual traces of the Speed Force, but nothing more. The Wire must've absorbed it all when she attacked you. Your body naturally regenerated the electrical energy it uses to operate, but the Speed Force…it drained it all out of you, every last drop, of course it did, it would be like a feast to a creature that feeds on electrical energy. Barry…I am so, so sorry."

"But…we can fix it, right? Can we, like, zap me or something?"

"Maybe," the Doctor frowned, rubbing his chin. "But if we give you too much, we'd electrocute you…you humans, so fragile."

"Gee, thanks," Barry muttered as the Doctor paced back and forth, muttering to himself and running his hands through his hair.

"Okay," the Time Lord announced at last. "The Speed Force can't be gone, completely gone. It changed you on a molecular level, that's still there. Big enough adrenaline rush might be able to get you going again."

"Great. So, like, you want to sneak up behind me and shout 'Boo?'"

The Doctor snorted. "No, it'll need to be something serious, something big."

"Well, I'll just have to look forward to that, then," Barry sighed.

"In the meantime…" the Doctor grinned. "I have a great idea of where we can go next."

Yup, Barry's lost his speed. How long will it last? How will he get it back? Well, that's for me to know, and you to find out. Of course, the more reviews I get, the faster you'll find out...