Text Key

"Audible speech."

'Directed thought, telepathic speech.'

Idiot's Lantern

Chapter 35 - Bad Days (When The Devil Drives)

"The next time we get into a car chase, I'm driving," Delaine informed the Doctor as they turned around to return to Florizel Street.

"What was I supposed to do? There was a lot going on, between the kidnapping and the traffic," the Doctor groused, driving much more slowly and carefully now. Yes, he had almost hit a bus… well, two buses and a regular car, but those had all been very strong 'almosts'. "I'd like to see you do better."

"What, like that'd be particularly hard?" she shot back. "I probably should have let you stick with the moped - at least then you'd be less likely to take out a bus on one of those clumsy excuses for turns."

And here he thought he was past the constant judgment phase. It was like dealing with Romana again, except Delaine didn't have the handicap of 'very little practical experience' to soften the blow."And here I thought you were making an effort to be nice…"

"I don't think I'm going to be nice about your driving either," Rose said, still shaking a little in her seat. "Do you even have a license? For Earth vehicles?"

Technically, yes. The 'technically' was because it wouldn't be expired for another twenty-five years - partially because it wouldn't be printed for another eighteen -, but the Doctor had made a habit of… not checking over those sorts of qualifications. If they knew they could do it well enough, they just did. If they didn't, they passed it off to someone else or, if that wasn't an option, did the best they could.

Worked out great for most of his lives so far, for driving, piloting, and medical licenses… well, so long as nobody caught onto the fact.

The Doctor found a place to park - middle of the street, roughly, but it was late enough in the evening where there wasn't that much room to be had anyway in the 'proper spots' and he didn't imagine this visit would take an excessive amount of time…

As they made their way to the sidewalk, there was a noise that got his attention - the sound of a mostly one-sided argument through the closed door - not an easy feat with these brick houses, the Doctor knew, even with his better than human hearing.
"You can't just lock her away -" a young voice protested.

"I can do what I like! It's my house!" a man shouted. There was a faint murmur from a third speaker, not nearly as forceful as the other two, but whatever they had said, the angry one didn't like it. "I am talking! And you put that out of your mind. And you! Always ignoring my warnings! You can forget about that fancy college! No, no arguing - I am talking! You're going to get a real job, get your hands dirty where I can keep an eye on you! Then you might stop being such a -"

The Doctor buzzed the doorbell and the 'conversation' inside cut off instantly. There was a faint shuffle of movement, giving the Time Lord just enough time to signal to his companions that they were going to go on the count of three-two-one...

He slapped on a bright wide grin as the door opened. "Hi!" the Doctor said, Rose chorusing along with him.

The man in the doorway stared, displeasure warring with confusion for control of his face as he took in the small crowd in front of him - the Doctor could only imagine what sort of 'evaluation' was going on behind those judgmental little eyes. "And who are -"

The Doctor would never admit this to any of his companions, but the thing about Time Lord brains was that a lot of the perceived 'smartness' was mostly centered in two areas - first, the ability to remember hundreds, if not thousands, of years of information and experience with (relative) precision and, secondly, the ability to do that (and most other things) very, very quickly.

Which meant that the Doctor, who'd spent hundreds of years around humans and humanoids of similar psychology and cultural tendencies, was very, very good at doing a cold read on them.

Like this subject here. Let's see; 'family' man - high emphasis on the quotation marks thanks to the overheard argument and all the nasty little bits hiding in the implications between the lines -, working class but decent wage to keep the house this nice, age and health would point at having fought in the war, respects conventional 'authority' above all else (especially if it was his own), therefore…

"I represent Queen and country," the Doctor said, whipping out the psychic paper long enough for a fast reader to get through about half of it - he didn't really care too much if this man wasn't one, because this type was superficial enough to not care about the fine print on most days of the week. "Just doing a little check of Her forthcoming Majesty's subjects before the great day. Don't mind if I come in?" The man inhaled, clearly ready to argue, but the Doctor cut him off as he pushed his way inside. "Nah, I didn't think you did. Thank you."

The sitting room was fairly nice, just as he'd guessed - they had radio and television, both new models, and enough sitting spaces for…yes, for four or five people to sit comfortably and watch the telly together.

A touch excessive for a family of three, especially in a home with as limited space as the average rowhouse had, the Doctor noted. Which meant that this was supposed to be a family of four… and she - if that was who was being discussed in the argument - had been removed from the equation in a bad way.

"Not bad. Very nice. Very well kept," the Doctor said, turning his attention to the lady of the house, who'd been standing to the side awkwardly for a few minutes now, eyes flitting nervously from her husband to the newcomers to her home. "I'd like to congratulate you, Mrs?"

The woman faltered slightly under his attention. "Connelly, sir."

The Doctor smiled gently. "Oh, I'm no 'sir' - you can just call me the Doctor. And these are my assistants, Rose and Delaine," he said, nodding to his companions. "There's really no need to be-"

"Now then, Rita. I can handle this - this gentleman's a proper representative, needs a proper man to speak to," Mr. Connolly cut off, putting on a plastic grin as he turned to the Doctor. "Don't mind the wife, she rattles on a bit."

The Doctor's 'polite and engaging' smile faltered into a frown. She hadn't had the chance to say more than two words. If that was 'rattling on', the Doctor would hate to hear what his speeches were considered.

"Well, maybe she should rattle on a bit more. As for you - I'm not convinced you're doing your patriotic duty," the Time Lord said, wandering around to a dresser and picking up some Union Flag bunting. "Nice flags. Why are they not flying?"

Mr. Connolly sputtered, looking up at the bare wall, to the Doctor, and then over to his wife before putting on that fake smile again. "There we are Rita, I told you, Get them up. Queen and country."

Rita bowed her head as she began to move. "I'm sorry-"

"Sorry's not going to put them up - like the gentleman says, get them up," her husband said, gesturing for her to move faster. He pointed at his son. "And you, you can help her if you've got nothing better to do than just stand around."

"Hold on a minute," the Doctor said, stopping the family in their tracks. "Hold on."

The family stopped, attention turning back to him.

The wife was anxious, the son skittish, a present absence was hanging above all of their heads… and the man of the house oddly eager to please a stranger, already putting on a cheery performance that was cracking every time his 'cast mates' failed to follow his direction.

Well, that's what the Doctor got for borrowing a bit of power from the highest authority of the land; sycophantic behavior from the people most worried about their reputation. Now to put it to proper use.

"You've got hands, Mister Connolly. Two big hands," the Doctor observed. "So why is putting up those flags your wife and son's job?"

The man blinked. "Well, it's housework, innit? Putting up the Union Jack bunting."

"It's the Union Flag," Rose whispered.

The Doctor didn't respond to that, instead focusing entirely on Mr. Connolly. "And?"

"That's a woman's job." Mr. Connolly said it as if it was a fact as simple as 'grass is green'.

"Is it?" the Doctor asked. He took a moment to contain his annoyance before asking another question. "Mister Connolly, what gender is the Queen?"

The man sputtered. "Well - she's a female."

"And are you suggesting that the Queen does the housework?" Rose asked.

The sputtering turned to a mild panic. "Oh - oh no, absolutely not. Not at all-"

"Then gender has nothing to do with the ability to put up decor. So, I vote that Eddie should do it," Delaine said, cutting in for the first time since they entered the Connolly home.

Mr. Connolly turned around to focus on his companion. "Excuse me?"
"I said, I think that you should be putting up the flags, Eddie Connolly," she repeated, just as steadily, never once breaking eye contact with the man. "Like the Doctor said; you've got two strong hands. Make yourself useful - or are you simply a piece of decorative furniture taking up space, Mis-ter Connolly?"

She'd stretched out the honorific in a way that made it clear how much she thought the man deserved it, even as an invisible pressure pressed down on the air between them.

Mr. Connolly skittered back a little, as if he realized that Delaine was a bit more dangerous than he was equipped to deal with, even when short of context as to 'how'. "I-I suppose I should get on it - wouldn't want the work to be done wrong, after all," he said, trying and failing to come up with an excuse to save some face.

'Never annoy a psychic,' one of the Doctor's former selves noted as the atmosphere returned back to its former mundane tension. 'It rarely ends well.'

Well, that level of absolute contempt for another being's existence didn't necessarily require psychic power to communicate… but like that? Oh, there was no getting around that display - or the casual picking out of Eddie Connolly's first name, which nobody else had mentioned yet.

"Right then! Nice and comfy, at Her Majesty's leisure," the Doctor said, clapping his hands to call everyone's attention back to him as he settled onto the sofa, Rose joining at his side while Delaine picked a wall to lean against. "Anyway, like I said before, I'm the Doctor, this is Rose, that's Delaine, your mum's Rita, and you are?"

The young man broke out a hesitant smile, aimed squarely at the Doctor. "Tommy."

"Well, sit yourself down, Tommy," the Doctor said, returning the smile as the boy slid in between him and Rose. "Now, I see you got a new telly. Now me, I love it, don't you?"

The boy grinned. "Oh, yes, it's brilliant. I want to go to school for it. I mean, not for watching telly, but-"

"Building them? Figuring out how to make them better?" the Doctor offered. "It's a good field to get into - going to just get bigger from here on out, so there's lots to learn."

"I know - I get Popular Science Monthly and Popular Mechanics whenever I can and they're just… full of all sorts of things," Tommy gushed, all the wariness of earlier gone now that he had a beloved subject to talk about. "The illustrations and articles are so detailed that I can go over an issue I got two years ago and still learn something ne-"

There was a tap from the ceiling.

Everyone stopped.

"What was that?" Rose asked.

"Nothing!" Eddie said, wrestling with some bunting. "Just… something falling over. Happens all the time."

There were more taps - a steady pattern at steady strength. Not something that happened on accident, at least not from something 'falling over'.

Rita swallowed. "...did… you said you were a doctor, didn't you?" she asked carefully.

The Doctor nodded. "I am."

"Can you help her? Please, can you help her-"

Eddie Connolly immediately bustled over, bunting forgotten. "Now, Rita, I don't think the gentleman needs to know-"

"No, I rather think the gentleman does," the Doctor said, cutting the man off before switching his attention back to his wife. "Rita, please. Tell me and I can help."

"I…I…" Rita burst into tears, Rose quickly going to comfort her, whispering small comforts into her ears and hugging her. The woman had clearly found her limit and -

"Now hold on - don't do this in front of guests!" Eddie scolded. "What will people think, you crying over -"

"Over what, Mister Connolly?" the Doctor asked. "Because as near as I've seen it, this neighborhood has been terrorized, its people bundled off without warning or answer as to why, and if that's not something to be upset about, I would certainly like to know what is."

"Now you listen here, Doctor," Eddie spat, pointing down at the Time Lord. "You may have fancy qualifications, but what goes under my roof is my business and I am the one who decides when and who talks and I am talking-!"

"AND. I'M. NOT. LISTENING!" the Doctor snapped, abruptly jumping to his feet and letting the man know that, for all he was wider than the Doctor, Eddie was not taller or nearly half as angry. "I have seen more than enough of what happens under your roof to know what kind of man you are and you will not terrorize me or my friends like you do your wife and son. Now you are staring into a deep, dark pit of trouble if you don't tell me what I need to know about this situation and I am ordering you, sir, to do that! Right now!"

Eddie Connolly stood there poleaxed, staring at the Time Lord as one might stare at a bomb they'd just abruptly realized was live.

The tapping resumed.

"Now, Mister Conolly," the Doctor repeated.

Eddie's mouth moved a few times, but no sound came out. Instead, it was Tommy who answered.

"We started hearing stories, all around the place," he started. "People who've changed. Just rumors. Whispers. Most people wanted to keep it secret, cause they're scared. And then the police started finding out -"

Eddie found his voice again. "Tommy-!" he hissed.

Tommy ignored his father. "We don't know how, nobody does. They just turn up - come up to the door and take them, any time of the day or night. Don't know where they take them or what happens after that and they never give anyone any kind of answer. But… but someone else has to tell them, otherwise they wouldn't know to come to someone's house - Gran's been… changed for almost a week now and they haven't showed up."

"Alright," the Doctor said, packing away his anger again. "Now, let's see your Gran."

Tommy hadn't ever really seen anyone like the Doctor before. Men, yes, smart men, certainly, handsome ones, often enough, but… something special about this one, who looked the local veteran soldier in the eye for the sake of dismantling him twice over; first with verbal wit and then with implicit physical threat.

The Doctor probably wouldn't have hit him, Tommy figured as he led the man and his friends up the stairs, but it's not like his father had known that.

And now his father was at the back of the group, silently stewing on his 'humiliation'.

It'd probably end up worse later. But for the moment? Oh, for the moment Tommy was just happy that someone had done it and that same person was going to help his gran.

"Gran?" Tommy asked as he opened the door and reached for the light. "It's Tommy. We brought someone to help."

His gran didn't say anything, but that was… fine. She hadn't said anything since she'd lost her face anyway.

Immediately the Doctor was kneeling in front of her, shining a small blue light over the smooth places where her eyes should have been, his own eyes - dark dark brown, dark enough to draw a person in forever and ever - darting all over. Searching. "Scarcely a single electrical impulse left, almost complete neural shutdown, only the barest reflexes still ticking over," he murmured, almost too quietly for Tommy to catch the words before he turned his attention to the others in the room. "And she's been like this for how long?"

"Six days," his mother said, wringing her hands. "It just… happened, last Saturday afternoon."

"Did anyone see it happen?" the Doctor asked.

"Course not," Tommy's father said. "Old woman never left the house."

"No," Tommy agreed. "We were all out - Dad was at work, Mum was getting groceries, and I was helping her. We didn't find Gran until we got back and she was just…we don't know if she's even breathing…"

"Oh, she is, but that's because it's an automatic process - just like the hand clenching," the Doctor said, standing up. "Well, less like it - that's what's left of her conscious mind reacting to the world. Probably why you were able to walk her up the stairs - enough of her left at home to do that much."

The man started looking over his gran again, muttering as he waved his tool around her head and, after a moment, called Tommy's mother over to ask more questions.

Leaving Tommy to feel useless, just watching from near the door.

"It's the worst when they can't answer," Delaine said, breaking through the darkly stewing thoughts.

"Excuse me?"

The woman nodded towards his gran. "I was my grandmother's caretaker - for about… six years - it's a lot, when you don't know what you're supposed to do and they can't say anything to push you in one direction or another," she said. "Nothing like this, but… the feeling of helplessness is universal, I think. Wondering if you should finally call for help or if you just need to try everything you've been doing harder and that'll somehow fix it."

Tommy bit his lip, watching the Doctor look over his gran. "What happened to her?"

"Oh. I finally bit the bullet and called the hospital - and they figured out what the problem was. Couldn't do much to help - once cancer metastasizes, it's usually over -, but I figure that morphine drip didn't do her any harm. It made her comfortable enough to sleep… and die while she was dreaming." She paused. "It was the right thing to do, of course, but that didn't make it any easier, doing it alone. At least when it happened to my grandpa, she was there to help make the call to get help. When it was her turn? Just me and my uncertainty."

That was a feeling he could understand at least. "You didn't have any family to help?"

She laughed emptily. "Oh, I had family. Older family, family who had their own problems, family that lived too far away to help… and then family who didn't have the 'time' or inclination to help - or to show up to the funeral," Delaine said. "I mean, it didn't stop one of them from finding 'time' to call me to demand half of my inheritance and my grandmother's dog before telling me I was going to hell if I didn't put the money to 'the right use' and let him lead me to Jesus." She huffed a dry laugh. "Admittedly, the last bit was for more reasons than just the money - but was the only part he really cared about."

Tommy looked her over - the bright blue hair, the mix of men's and women's clothing in bright colors, and the general… essence of not playing by the expected rules of either. "Was it because you're…" He grimaced, having trouble finding the right word. "Em…"

Delaine glanced at Tommy's father before looking back to Tommy and giving him a sharp nod. "Mostly, yes, and yes, my grandma knew about it, but word of advice - in the future, be more careful dropping pins, okay?"

Tommy blinked.

"Dropping hints about being… the queer sort," she explained quietly, clearly trying to find the right word, only to find herself separated by a common language. "It's a play on 'letting your hair down'. Even if you're sure someone is part of the community, that doesn't mean all the company around is… or is friendly. You have to be careful with those gambles."

"Mum knows. And she's alright with it."

"And your dad's made a good guess - and I'd wager he's not nearly as supportive," she added before tapping her ear. "Heard the argument earlier. If it's any consolation, I don't think he'd escalate to anything too rough without more evidence. Doesn't mean he can't make your life hell though."

"It's not hell already?"

"You're not homeless. You're still alive. That's better than what some in the community get." Delaine let Tommy stew on that thought for a moment. "So, tell me, what sort of college were you looking at?"

That, at least, was a nice calm topic. "Polytechnic. Regent Street's my first choice."

She nodded. "Good choice. That'll be electrical engineering then. I'm a bit of an all-rounder myself, but nobody ever got hurt by specializing, unless it was into a field that was doomed to begin with." She paused before announcing, "Car just pulled up outside."

Tommy's father scoffed. "And how can you tell that? This is a properly built brick building, you shouldn't be able to hear-"

Delaine tapped her ear again. "Oh, I can hear it. A man not unlike you trained me to pick out five different kinds of vehicles by engine alone by the time I was ten - along with how to identify people by the sound of their footsteps, but that's not the conversation here, is it?" She bared her teeth in an unpleasant smile that made Tommy think of the tigress at Whipsnade, pinning dark eyes - as dark and deep as the Doctor's - on Tommy's father. "What we're talking about is what sort of business does a car with a Ford flathead V-8, under the hood of what's probably a Ford Pilot, have in this neighborhood at this time of day."

That put Tommy's father on the backfoot again. "I-I…"

He was spared from having to answer by the sound of the door being kicked in.

It happened very fast. There was a crash and a slam of a door being kicked open, and immediately Mrs. Connolly was panicking. "It's them! They've come for her!"

"How did they even find her?" Tommy asked. "We didn't tell anyone! And she's been shut up here the whole time!"

Mr. Connolly, Rose noted, did not say anything, despite having been very talkative earlier.

"Quick, are you sure you have no idea what she could have been doing before she lost her face?" the Doctor asked, turning to Tommy. "Where was she when you found her, tell me!"

Tommy pulled at his hair. "I don't know, we were all out - we don't know - she wouldn't have gone anywhere, she never does. And when we came back, she was just sitting-"

A large man in a dark barged into the room, with two similarly dressed men right behind him. It took them barely a moment before they started to move towards the faceless woman sitting on the bed.

"Now, hold on a moment," the Doctor said, stepping between them. "There are three important, brilliant, and complicated reasons why you should listen to me. One-"

The punch was faster than Rose expected, hitting the Doctor squarely in the face and laying him out on the floor.

Immediately, she was down on her knees next to him. "Doctor!"

Rose was nebulously aware of some sort of bustle going on behind them, of Mrs. Connolly desperately shouting for the men to leave her mother alone and not to hurt her as they clattered down the stairs, knocking something off the wall in the process, but her attention was on the Doctor, laying on the floor, unmoving.

"Doctor!" Rose tried again, this time slapping his face. As if it could help, but she had no other ideas-

The Doctor sat up, almost hitting Rose in the face.

"Ah, now that was a hell of a right hook," he said, eyes a little too bright to not be enjoying something about the situation, shaking his head free of any apparent cobwebs. "Gonna have to watch out for that."

Immediately, he was flying down the stairs and already out the door, with Rose doing what she could to keep up, the sound of a car screeching away already telling her exactly how much time was of the essence. So maybe the heels weren't a great choice for the day.

"Chase scene, assholes! I'm driving this time!" Delaine announced from outside as the Ferrari's engine kicked on.

"Oi! That's still my car!"

"Yeah, but you're shit at handling it-"

A bit of crackling red light flickered in the corner of her eye, distracting Rose from the Doctor's and Delaine's argument. Had someone left the telly on after they'd gone up to check on Tommy's gran?

"Rose!" the Doctor yelled from the street. "We're going to lose them again!"

"Not if you get in the goddamn car, you fucking cockatoo-"

…but this was 1953, Rose realized abruptly. Even if the telly was on, it shouldn't have been red - they didn't have color television.

She stepped into the sitting room, catching a glimpse of red electricity crackling around the frame of the television.

Now that, Rose figured, wasn't natural.

Ignoring the sound of a car starting up and racing away, she walked over to the TV, turning it around to look at the back. Again, the little spark of red electricity was there, though it quickly disappeared through the aerial connection.

And there was the little bit that tied together the strangeness; what force could get to an old woman home alone, why there were so many televisions where there shouldn't have been, and why that Mr. Magpie from earlier had been so shifty - his name, quite literally, was all over it.

"You!" Mr. Connolly shouted, bringing Rose out from behind the telly. "Get the hell out of my house!"

"Oh, I'm going. I'm done," Rose said, standing up and dusting off the front of her skirt. She flashed a smile. "Nice to meet you, Tommy, Mrs. Connolly. And as for you, Mister Connolly," she added, turning to the man. "Only an idiot hangs the Union Flag upside down. Thought you might want to know."

She flashed a smile and then ran for the door, already thinking about how she was going to make her way to Magpie Electronics… and how she really, really should have taken Delaine's advice on wearing flats.

"And now I'm going to show you how to fucking run down a Ford Pilot with a Ferrari," should have been understood as being equal parts threat to promise, the Doctor was realizing as he held onto whatever parts of the car he could, wishing that he'd added 'seatbelts' into his list of modifications.

For all he was familiar with the general concept of white knuckle situations - they were unavoidable in his life, given his ability to find trouble and how much he had to rely on high risk gambles to get through them - he did not like having that sort of experience happen in a (relatively) mundane car with a (theoretically) mundane companion driving.

"Where did you learn to drive?!" he yelled as Delaine just barely dodged another car on the road.

"I took a correspondence course," Delaine said in a pitch perfect imitation of Fozzie Bear's line from the Muppet Movie. Under almost literally any other circumstance, it would probably have been funny. "C'mon. I'm from Michigan, Doctor."

"That says more about being likely to build a car than drive one!"

"Alright. So I did some backwoods stuff when I was teen with a friend's go-kart-" They swerved around a corner in such a way that the Doctor would have been shocked to find out that more than two wheels had stayed on the ground. "-did a proper driver's ed course after - three hundred fucking dollars for that -, then took up cross country motorcycling and other long haul driving, and then picked up stunt driving… probably around the second time I started working at a circus."

The Doctor clawed for a grip on his seat. "The second!? What did you even do the first time? A trapeze act? Sword swallowing? Knife throwing?!"

"Yes, no, and if the other knife person wasn't being a bitch, yeah, but the first time was mostly animal handling for a Ten-In-One sideshow."

"I hope you handled the elephants or horses - or whatever more gently than this car!"

"Uh, yeah. Most horses can't handle these kind of turns and trying to force them to would count as animal abuse," Delaine said, matter of factly as she took another screeching hairpin turn. If not for the nature of the situation, that unflappability would almost be admirable. Almost. "But I was mostly handling a bear - Ruzka used to be a Kamchatka brown bear, so she didn't need that firm of a hand, but still…"

"What do you mean 'used to be'?! A bear doesn't just-" the Doctor nearly bit his tongue as they drifted around a corner, only coming to a full stop as a grocery cart rolled into the road, cutting off their pursuit as the Ford Pilot they'd been pursuing disappeared behind a rolling gate.

After giving the cart driver a disapproving glance and a small mutter of 'who even buys produce after dark anyway', Delaine pulled the car away - but not that far, finding an area just out of sight of the guards to park in.

"And now you know what it's like being a passenger when you're driving the TARDIS," she said very matter-of-factly as she turned the car's engine off and tossed the keys back to him, the Doctor just gathering himself enough to catch them.

"Ha. I wasn't aware that I drove like I was trying out for a the Fast and the Furious film - did you pick up that last move from Tokyo Drift?" he asked.

"Initial D, actually. And no, you drive like you're an eight-year old on his first visit to Craig's Cruisers."

The Doctor shook his head. "Well, try not to use it again on me any time soon - I'm fairly sure both of my hearts were trying to jump out of my chest there for a moment."

His companion didn't look particularly sympathetic. "Needs must, Doctor."

The Time Lord winced. "...that's really not the best phrase to use, even if you don't finish it."

"Hey, you're the guy who managed to fuck up a car chase where you had over three times the horsepower of the other guy," Delaine scoffed. "I know it's not all about the numbers, but after a certain point, that kind of disparity does make things sad."

"And like you did better?"

His companion shrugged. "What can I say? I'm generally not into vehicular homicide."

"You could have fooled me - anyway, I'm not putting up with any more of your crazy driving tonight, alright?" the Doctor warned. "I'm the one driving us out of here."

"You call that crazy?"

"You don't?"

Delaine shrugged again as she slid open a door to a servicing tunnel. "Didn't pull a Skandi or a Rockford, barely worked in a powerslide, I didn't fuck around with weight transfer that much, at no point did I hit a ramp, no off-roading was had, and the entire vehicle was 100% intact at the end of the ride. That's pretty not-crazy as far as my life goes."

…that raised so many questions. And an ever so slight interest in seeing what counted as crazy in person… though from a safe distance and with a bag of popcorn, rather than sitting in the passenger seat.

"Well I'm glad that went into your consideration," the Doctor said as he slid inside, pulling out the sonic screwdriver to serve as a flashlight to look over the space. Slightly disused, but not in terrible condition and perfectly traversable for beings of their size. "Though I imagine that stunt driving is probably easier than hunting vampires, isn't it?"

Hopefully, having the task of 'finding the thing' would keep any denials nice and short-

"Depends on the vampire," Delaine said without missing a beat as she followed him. "I've dealt with lots of different kinds - the worst kind are the ones that will straight up give you their address just so you show up to your ass-beating on time. So, technically, this is a little harder than that. Just a little."

Now the Doctor was glad that most of the vampires he'd ever dealt with tended towards the stereotypic skulking-type. "...really, I don't know what I was expecting. Then or now."

"What, did you want me to lie and say 'what vampires'?" she asked, turning to face him in the dark. "You took a fucking wooden stake off of me on our… what? Second, third adventure? What was I supposed to do, say 'oh yes, materials for a surprise circus tent raising' right after you watched me try to stab a people-eating bat alien with it? I haven't even been in a circus for ages now, it's not going to work."

"...I mean, I would have respected the raw audacity, if nothing else, but..." the Doctor stopped. "Where were you even hunting vampires anyway? I forgot."

He hadn't. He just wanted to see -

"Oh, all over the place. England. Egypt. New York. Mexico. Italy. Switzerland. Eastern Europe - that was a bit of a mess, so listing off every place we ended up is a bit time consuming -... but I guess the most relevant is Sunnydale, California. I think I might have mentioned that one."

She had, but it had been such a passing mention he hadn't properly internalized it. The rest, however, were properly new, even if some of the locations were somewhat predictable.

'Clearly, we've been slacking if there's that many different places on Earth having vampire issues…'

"You just keep being direct… right. You have… mentioned it," the Doctor said, tucking away the rest of the information for later. "Tell me the California ones were at least a sun resistant breed."

Delaine laughed - once, but it was a genuine sound of amusement. "I mean, barely - they caught fire in sunlight, but I'd seen a couple power through short stretches without too much damage, beyond that to dignity, which is more than some can say. But that didn't really matter, cause the town had this huge fucked up sewer catacomb maze that linked up to all the local graveyards and these old sunken buildings from god knows how many earthquakes, so most of them could get around during the day without problems. Huge pain in the ass."

The Doctor groaned. "And if they lived down there long enough, they'd know the place better than anyone else. Oh, that must have been a nightmare - it must have been impossible to clear them out, I imagine."

"You're telling me. I had to keep this - reckless idiot of mine from going down into the murder holes because, apparently, me telling him they were murder holes wasn't quite believable enough. 'I'd rather confirm for myself, if you don't mind'," she said, briefly dipping into a soft Scottish accent - had she done an imitation similar to that before? It seemed like it... "And then he had the nerve to complain about me coming after him and dragging him out of the middle of a would-be feeding frenzy."

The Doctor watched Delaine fume over the memory with a sense of deep bemusement. "Oh, I know the type."

"I bet you - no," she said, her smug look immediately dissolving into offended disbelief as she noticed the one he was wearing. "No no no no. You do not get to give me that look."

Ah, but he very much did get to give her that look. "You're the one who asked me 'what counts as wandering off' the first time I told you specifically not to," he reminded her.

There was a moment of mulish silence as Delaine's mouth worked through the start of what was probably a few different potential responses that were quickly discarded before any actual sound could be put to them.

Finally, she settled on one; "...fuck you."

A beat passed before the Doctor realized what that meant.

"Wait, was that the sound of me winning an argument with you?" he asked, delighted. "Oh ho, now that's a real prize right there. Was starting to think I'd never actually manage that."

"It wasn't that much of an argument-"

The Doctor wagged a finger. "No snatching this victory from my hands, Delaine. Not before I have the chance to enjoy it."

Delaine sighed. "...come on, we came here on a mission; let's complete it."

As they exited the servicing tunnels and entered the main space, the Doctor noted that this was very much not a 'proper' secret base - like it's outside had announced, it was a disused factory. Still, it'd suit the needs - it was large, had a perimeter, access to a nearby subway station, lots of doors to lock; all the things a body would need for a conspiracy to collect random humans from around the city.

Like what they were catching the aftermath of now, as two of the officers from earlier finished locking up a sliding gate, before walking away.

"Convenient timing," the Doctor said. "Makes things easier."

Delaine hummed, but followed along behind him as they moved towards the locked area.

"Store bought padlock," the Doctor noted, popping the mechanism in with barely any effort from the sonic screwdriver. "Between that and the location,this operation doesn't seem to be very well funded, does it?"

"Government's probably eaten the rest of the money on the Coronation," Delaine replied, her expression tightening as she took in the mass of huddled bodies - all faceless - bunched up in the back area behind another locked gate.

It wasn't a particularly happy sight for the Doctor either - there had to be over thirty people all packed into a space that was scarcely large enough to compare to Jackie Tyler's sitting room and left almost completely dark. But Delaine? Delaine was incensed.

"Of course, they'd lock them up in a cage like animals, packed in on each other like sardines," she growled, a flash of feline green-gold brightening her eyes for a moment. "They didn't even think to give them a place to sit or lay down or even water-"

"It's not like they'd have much use for it," the Doctor pointed out, pulling his companion back. "Though, yes, at least the thought would have counted for something…"

"The thought -" she started before reeling herself in. "Look. Just… get some scans. I'll try to… do something productive."

"Not a lot I imagine you could do," the Doctor observed as he pulled out the sonic and did a scan of the nearest person. They were gradually pulling towards him, either drawn in by the sound or something else, but worked well enough in his favor…

He frowned as he looked at the readout the sonic was giving him.

"There's nothing in there - well, almost nothing," the Doctor said, gesturing. "The physical structures are still there in the brain, but… whatever did this… sucked out almost all of the electrical impulses. Not even enough to power a potato clock, just enough to keep the automatic processes ticking. And whatever it did happened in such a way that it didn't encode the memory of the… face removing at all - so whatever happened was fast. Too fast to catch any changes."

"As fast as a television signal, would you say?" Delaine suggested.

"...wouldn't be out of the question," the Doctor said after a moment of thought. "Full attention without a lot of active thinking or resistance going on - perfect set up for hypnotism or any other psychological manipulation. Of course, that doesn't narrow down if whatever this is is working through a specific channel or -"

His theorizing was cut off by a set of high beams turning on, washing the dark room in blinding light.

"Stay where you are," a voice announced.

Well. Maybe the Doctor should have realized this was a bit too easy earlier.

The bell on the front door jingled, making Ronald Magpie look up from his work at the young lady who'd just come in. He'd seen her earlier, hadn't he? The bright pink dress was memorable.

"I-I'm sorry, miss, but you're a bit late. I was just about to lock the door."

He would have done so earlier, actually, if he hadn't been so focused on putting the final touches on the Wire's mobile television screen -

"Oh, I figured. Bit late to be working, especially with the big day tomorrow," the girl said, looking around the room. "But somehow, I figured you'd be up. So - I want to buy a telly."

"Come back tomorrow. Please," Mr. Magpie, the manners added as a clumsy afterthought.

"But you'll be closed."

Magpie startled. "What? How'd you -"

"For the big day? For the Coronation?" the girl clarified. "Or were you thinking of something else?"

Ah. Right. "Yes, yes, of course…"

"But you weren't thinking of that, were you?" she asked, a bit of sharp intent sparking in her eyes. "You were thinking of something else."

"I don't know what you're talking about, miss-"

"Rose Tyler. Y'see, seems to me that half of London's got a television - almost all of them with your name on it," Rose said, stepping forward to lean on the counter. "That's a bit odd, isn't it? They're not exactly cheap and you're just… practically giving them all away?"

Magpie swallowed, looking down at his work. "I have my reasons."

"And what are they?"

He looked up, trying not to sweat under that knowing smile. Like a cat that'd got both the canary and the cream, the girl knew she had him trapped… but she couldn't know how dangerous the situation really was. For both of them.

One of the televisions in the background blurred to static.

Ah, she was coming.

"I really think you should leave. Right now," Magpie said, walking to the door. There was a minute chance he could get this Rose Tyler out in time, let her escape with her face, at least for a few more hours of her life -

"No. I'm not leaving until you answer my questions," the fool girl said. "How come your televisions are so cheap?"

A second television turned to static. She was getting closer to coming through.

"It's my patriotic duty. Seems only right that as many folk as possible get to watch the coronation. We may be losing the Empire but-," Magpie said. "Twenty million people will be watching, you know? And twenty million people can't be wrong, eh, so why don't you get yourself back home and get up, bright and early, for the big day-"

"Nah," Rose said, not sounding convinced. "And I'm not leaving until I see everything, because, Mister Magpie - something's happening out there and your name has literally been all over it. Now tell me, what's going on?"

Magpie sagged in place. He'd known this would happen. He'd known he'd be found out. But it was too late. For anyone.

A third telly went to static as he locked the door.

"All right, then," Rose said, looking confident - though Magpie doubted that would last now that the Wire was here, watching from behind her - as she looked down at him. She thought she understood, that she had this all under control, didn't she? "It's just you and me - you going to come clean, then? What's really in it for you?"

"Just a bit of peace."

"From what?"

Magpie inclined his head to where the Wire was waiting, smiling away. "From her."

Rose half turned. "That's just - that's just a woman on the telly. Just a programme."

"Oh, I'm so much more than that, you pretty little thing," the Wire said.

Rose turned around properly to stare. "Who's-"

"Oh, you can call me the Wire, young lady," the wretched spectre said, smiling with a face that belonged to someone else. "It's not my real name - consider it an affectation of the stage. Or screen, as it were. More expedient, less personal - you're smart enough to understand the concept."

"Are - are you talking to me?" the girl said, still in disbelief.

It wouldn't last for long, Magpie knew. It'd be over… after the Wire had her fun. She liked the talking part. The monologues.

"Oh, yes, I am talking to you, little one," the Wire said, purring. "Would you prefer small talk? About this unseasonably chilly weather, perhaps? Or the forecast of rain for the morrow?"

"I- I want to know what's going on. With this whole face-stealing business!" Rose said, waving a hand around.

"Oh, so you figured that out. I was wondering if anyone noticed - but you humans are so attached to your screens. The spectacle of the surface, only ever so rarely digging any deeper," the Wire said. "So, credit where credit is due, I suppose. A capital effort, as you might say."

"That's not why you're doing this though-"

"Don't cross her-" Magpie warned.

"Oh, Mister Magpie," the Wire laughed. "Your gallantry is noted - futile, but noted. And as for you, young lady, I suppose I can give a bit of exposition, since you've asked ever so nicely."

She 'stepped' from one screen to another, using the wall of televisions to act as a larger image, offering patches of a body - not a complete one, Magpie had noted from the start, because the Wire had never seen her 'face' from below the bust, but an improvised patchwork - flashes of footage of marching boots and swirling dancers caught mid step that only had the continuity of direction uniting their purpose, while advertisements and educational programs provided the gestures of the hands.

"Like any being, I require… stimulation. Input. Experience. But as you may observe -," the Wire said, doing a little 'spin' that required six separate bits of footage to manage. "-that's not strictly feasible for myself right now. I have no real body with which to gather and maintain an existence between one moment and the next, so I… borrow. That some people lose their faces in the process is merely a side effect. Though not a painful one- well." The Wire smiled. "Not for long, at least. So I suppose you can appreciate that"

Rose Tyler took a step back as terrible understanding finally dawned on her.

"Oh, don't make that face, dear girl," the Wire scolded. "It's not like you're making much use of it - all of the things you humans have going for you in this world, all the things just waiting to happen - and you sit down in front of a screen? To mindlessly consume whatever's put in front of you? Really, it's only fitting that I return the favor. At least I know the value of the gifts you're squandering, so you can take comfort in that I will treasure it properly…"

Ronald Magpie looked away as the light flowed and the screaming started. He'd still hear it, of course, both now and after, and he'd have to clean up what was left, but it'd all be over soon.

Just like it would be tomorrow.

Author's Notes

Slightly surprised an entire chapter came out without Delaine POV happening even once - it almost did a couple times (both of the Doctor's and Tommy's sections almost were hers, and the first bit went from Delaine POV to Rose POV to Delaine again before going to the Doctor) but it just did Not shake out that way even once.

Idiot's Lantern gives Rose a throwaway line that canonically establishes 10 as being a bad driver - I added in the fact that he's not even a bad driver to good effect because RTD era chase scenes are generally put together in a way that convey neither urgency or speed… something that happens in three sequences for Idiot's Lantern.

Someone posted a bit from the novel Forever Autumn where the Tenth Doctor's eyes were described as being 'dark and weird' and 'as black and depthless as space' on tumblr and I thought that married well into Delaine's eyes being described in similar ways - character design parallels are always fun, especially if they happen by accident.

Tried to see if there was a tiger in captivity at Regent's Park during the 1950's, only found a report of a tigress with cubs at Whipsnade in 1950 - so the location got changed. Just in case you were curious about how silly some of my research can get. On the other hand, the Ford V8 Pilot was picked for the police car because I looked up 'British police cars 1950's' and then compared the details of what was available on that list to what was seen in the episode - which was pretty much just the Pilot. So it really wasn't that much creative license.

Craig's Cruisers reference mostly came out of 'what's a go-kart park franchise that people might have heard of' and thinking of the place a cousin worked at when he was in high school/college years ago. Then I looked them up just to be sure and found out it's a Michigan only place with only two locations. Eh, still counts.

A Ten-In-One is a type of sideshow where you have ten sequential acts, which can be a mix of 'freaks' and 'working acts' such as magic acts or motorcycle stunts - or acts that are both. This specific example was meant to be a reference to the Cirque du Freak from the Vampire's Assistant series (and the 'other knife guy' would be the previously mentioned Larten Crepsley).

Ruzka Fallout my beloved - she's a ghoulified bear/yao guai from one of the Fallout 3 DLC's, Point Lookout, and a pet option from one of the Fallout Jumps.

Kamchatka brown bears are the largest brown bears in Eurasia (native to the Kamchatka peninsula) and are roughly the same size as Kodiak brown bear (one of the largest species of bears alive today). They're also known for being generally not dangerous to humans, at least in comparison to Siberian brown bears - though this doesn't make them 'safe', mind. They're still wild animals.

Vampire fighting locations are references to - JoJo's Bizarre Adventure parts 1-3, Castlevania, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Marvel.