Chapter Sixteen: The Idiot's Lantern
[Fated Pair Bedroom]
The Alchemist sits quietly in her chair, facing the bedroom door, going over research on her tablet. Rose has just gone to bed, and her husband is busy tinkering with wiring in the console room. It is rare to have a moment alone these days. The Doctor is constantly by her side, chatting endlessly to rebuild their bond. She appreciates it, but even she needs a breather now and then.
A soft sigh escapes her as the door flies open, shattering her peace.
"Elvis!" the Doctor shouts, running into their room while yanking off his sandshoes.
The door shuts gently behind him—thanks to the TARDIS. She was right, he either forgets to close them or slams them in this Regeneration. It helps, at least, for their ship to do it.
"What about him?" she mumbles, trying to reclaim her train of thought.
"We should visit him!" The Doctor shouts, practically vibrating with excitement as he hops from foot to foot, "Go to a show! It's been ages. Rose would love it. Next trip? What year? Which show?"
Quiet time is officially over. With a resigned sigh, the Alchemist shuts down her tablet, her mind already racing through possibilities. A visit to Elvis sounds fun—and productive. She's been itching to confront the Colonel about that unauthorized release of Hound Dog.
"As long as I can avoid the Colonel, I'm in," she says, sitting up straighter, "It has been a while since we had a good chat with Elvis. We can bring him some bananas from Villengard. He loves those."
The Doctor pauses mid-step, kissing his teeth in thought, "Right," he drawls out, "Maybe sometime before his depression and PTSD, then? The Colonel practically stalks him when he notices it."
The Alchemist rolls her eyes, "He's always stalked him; that man is so controlling. 1950s again? He's really happy during those years."
"Oh, absolutely," the Doctor agrees, rocking on his heels, "Now, which concert? They were all brilliant—well, apart from his G's."
"Oh! We could visit Ed while we're at it! We promised Elvis we'd see one of his shows in person."
"Aw, yes!" he says, equally excited, "Wonderful idea, Amara. Ed's such a nice man; makes an excellent cuppa for an American."
"And Sylvia!" she adds, beginning to pace, "She still owes me that cinnamon quick bread recipe. She never missed a show—always front row."
"Which concert, though?" he asks, flopping onto the bed, "Elvis played there three times."
The Alchemist hums, "I've been listening to Big Mama lately. I wish we could see her play Hound Dog live again."
"Aha!" the Doctor gestures at her triumphantly, "I know what you're really after! You want to chew out the Colonel for releasing that cover. You did give Elvis Big Mama's record, after all."
She throws her head back with an exaggerated groan, "Caught! I've been caught. You know me too well, Theta. We really do have unstoppable gobs."
Chuckling knowingly, he replies, "How about the third show then? The humans go wild during it and even though Ed'll be furious after, I'm sure Rose will get a kick out of the whole thing."
"Mhm, 6th of January 1956 at 8 pm Eastern Standard then; we'll have to make sure we get there early enough to beat the crowd in," the Time Lady recalls and rounds on him, "I'll see if Rose will dress up for the occasion with me. It's been a bit since I've gotten to do that."
The Doctor's pheromones spike as she rattles off the date, and she smirks knowingly.
"We can finally take the moped you got me!" he shouts, springing to his feet.
Her smile widens. She'd painted the moped and sidecar to match the TARDIS after sneaking off to 1993 to buy it not long after she got back.
She chuckles at his excitement, "I might paint a crash helmet pink for Rose. What do you think?"
The Time Lord darts to their music console to queue up Elvis' Hound Dog cover and drags her into a spinning dance.
"You only know the waltz now?" she teases as he twirls her, "Goodness, Theta."
"Oh, stop complaining, Amara," he says, a grin tugging at his lips, "You're just happy to dance."
"True, true enough," she replies and asks, "Now, what color should I wear? I need to intimidate the Colonel."
"Forest green," he answers without hesitation.
She raises a brow, "Do you intend to watch Elvis or me? You turn into a stuttering wreck whenever I wear that color, and you very well know it."
"Please, Amara?" he pleads, spinning her again.
"Nope."
"Pretty please?" the Doctor tries again, pulling her back in.
"Still nope."
"With edible ball bearings on top?"
"Nope, but I will let you pick a color: purple or yellow," she laughs as she's dipped.
"Purple," he mutters with mock defeat as the song ends, and he flops back onto the mattress.
The Alchemist grins and leaps onto the bed, landing right over his hips in a kneel, one leg on either side.
"I hate that you can do this now… but also kind of love it," he mutters, eyes wide.
She rolls her eyes playfully, "Might as well enjoy it. And yes, I can tell, and it's not just our empathic bond that's letting me know."
Smirking, the Time Lord's hands slide to her hips.
"Oh, and before you distract me... edible ball bearings? Again ?" the Alchemist asks.
"Yep," he replies simply, pulling her into a smoldering kiss.
[TARDIS Console Room]
The Doctor jumps to his feet, grinning as he emerges from under the console where he's been reconnecting a loose wire. He dusts off his hands just as Rose enters the console room, finishing the last bite of her breakfast.
"Today, we're going to see Elvis!" he announces with unbridled enthusiasm.
"Elvis?" Rose asks, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
"Elvis," the Alchemist confirms with a nod, casually leaning against the console.
"We've met a few times before," the Doctor adds, clearly pleased with himself, "Should be brilliant! We're heading to the fifties to catch him live."
"1956, " the Alchemist corrects, her tone teasing as she rolls her eyes, "We're going to 1956, Rose. And getting backstage shouldn't be an issue."
Rose laughs, already loving the idea, "Backstage? Of course not, not with you two!"
The Doctor closes the access panel and spins to face them, "Oh, and Ally's promised to dress up."
The Alchemist arches an eyebrow at him, "Couldn't let me have the moment, could you?" she responds dryly before turning to Rose, "What do you think, Dame Rose? Care to peruse the wardrobe with me?"
"I do say, that sounds absolutely delightful, Lady Ally," Rose responds in an equally exaggeratedly posh tone, playing along.
The two exchange mock-serious nods before linking arms and heading to the wardrobe.
As they disappear down the corridor, the Alchemist shakes her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. She can feel the Doctor's excitement radiating through their bond—it's positively infectious.
[TARDIS Wardrobe]
Rose hears the Time Lady muttering "purple" every few moments as they sift through the 1950s rack of women's clothing. It's repetitive enough to become grating and given Rose already barely considers her a friend, her patience is wearing thin.
Finally, unable to hold back, she blurts, "Why do you keep saying 'purple'?"
The Alchemist rolls her eyes and glances at her, "It was either yellow or purple. He wants purple."
Rose bites her tongue at the explanation and, trying to distract herself, pulls out a bright pink strapless dress and holds it up. The top is covered in sequins, and the satin skirt flares out dramatically with layers of tulle underneath.
"How's this?" she asks, turning toward the Time Lady.
The Alchemist pauses in her motions; she just spotted a purple dress on the rack that she intends to take out and look at and turns to Rose, her expression softening slightly as she says, "Positively divine, Dame Rose. Excellent choice!"
Rose raises an eyebrow at the title but doesn't comment. She knows it's meant to be playful, but something about the Alchemist's tone always feels a little patronizing. Still, the compliment lands, and she can't help a slight grin as she spots a blue moto jacket on another rack. Snatching it up, she turns back to show it off.
Meanwhile, the Time Lady retrieves the soft, tea-length aubergine dress she's been eyeing. The high mandarin collar, three-quarter-length sleeves, and extended, S-shaped button closure down the front make it a sophisticated choice. The flared skirt and matching belt will give her tall, delicate frame a graceful hourglass silhouette.
The Alchemist glances up briefly before offering her verdict, "I'm done. Also, definite thumbs-up on the jacket, Rose."
They move to the accessory section, but Rose feels herself growing more tense with every step. The Alchemist seems to glide effortlessly, picking out items with an almost annoying precision. Rose grabs things quickly, not bothering to think too hard, just wanting to get out of there.
"Makeover room?" Rose asks, already heading toward the door.
"Makeover room," the Alchemist confirms with a confident nod, following close behind.
[Makeover Room]
"You're taking forever," the Alchemist hears in her mind as she finishes setting her hair.
She rolls her eyes, turning her head from side to side to ensure every strand is in place. Her hair, sleek and shiny from the twenty-four-hour nanite spray, is pulled into a high ponytail, the ends flicking out at the bottom with effortless precision.
Turning slightly, she glances at Rose, who is carefully applying soft pink lipstick. Rose tucks a pink satin headband into her French-twisted blonde locks, giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror.
"He said it. Again," the Alchemist mutters, breaking the silence.
"That's forty-two since we walked into this room," Rose replies evenly, tucking a stray strand of hair back into place.
"He's so impatient. It's only been thirty-five minutes and twelve seconds since we entered the Wardrobe," the Alchemist grumbles, smoothing invisible creases in her dress.
Rose smirks faintly, "You'd think he wasn't immortal or something."
The Alchemist shrugs, slipping on her short, elegant, open-knit gloves.
Grumbling under her breath about making him pay for it later, the Alchemist finally picks up the sunglasses she chose for her husband.
"Ready?" Rose asks, standing up from her dark green velvet stool.
The Alchemist sighs, straightening herself as she turns toward Rose with a calm nod, "Ready."
[Main Corridor]
From outside the room, The Alchemist can already hear her husband grumbling about "women taking forever to get ready" as they head back to meet him in the console room.
"You go first," The Alchemist says with a smirk as they near the final turn.
Rose gives a simple nod of agreement, continuing on while the Time Lady holds back, watching as Rose moves ahead.
"Ah! Finally!" The Doctor practically shouts, his voice full of exaggerated relief, "What took so long? Very fifties, Rose, nice! Wait until you see your helmet!"
The Alchemist chuckles softly to herself, rolling her eyes. She knows him too well—he's probably already holding it up to show her. Can he ever keep a surprise to himself? She lets out a good-natured sigh. It's fine. He means well.
"Thanks, Doctor," Rose laughs, "Oh, wow! It even matches!"
The Alchemist grins to herself. She called it, but she won't ruin the fun.
The Doctor, no doubt scanning the room for her now, finally calls out, "Ally painted it just for you. Speaking of my wife, where is she?"
"Oh, she was just behind me," Rose replies casually.
The Alchemist glances down at her black velvet heels, rolling her eyes once more as she straightens her posture and strides into the console room.
[TARDIS Console Room]
The Alchemist pads into the console room, a few feet away from Rose, and notices that the Doctor has his back turned, focused on the moped.
"Ahem," she calls out dramatically, propping a hand on her hip.
The Doctor spins around, his jaw dropping at the sight of her.
"If you say 'what' three times, I'll smack you," she warns him with narrowed eyes.
"G-got it. Yep. Nope. I mean, yes. I, uh, uh... let's go," he stammers before quickly running to the controls.
Rose remains quiet as the Time Lady walks over to the console. The tension in the air is palpable—there's no mistaking the scent of jealousy lingering around Rose, even if she's trying to be polite.
'And to think you wanted forest green... you'd be a real mess—probably drooling,' the Alchemist whispers telepathically to her husband as he moves to assist her.
'Shut up,' he mutters, and she chuckles softly, reaching over to lightly smack him on the back of his quiffed-up head.
Rose stifles a laugh at the playful gesture but doesn't say anything, choosing instead to grab one of the railings, bracing herself for the inevitable wild rocking of their flight.
[Street]
A vibrant pair of hot pink high heels and flowing pink tulle emerge from the TARDIS.
"I thought we'd be going for the Vegas era, you know, the white flares and the, grr, chest hair," she says, ending with claws and a growl.
The Doctor scoffs from within the TARDIS, his voice laced with mock disbelief, "You're kidding, right? If you want to see Elvis, you go for the late fifties. The time before burgers. Back when they called him 'The Pelvis,' and he still had a waist."
The Alchemist smirks, "What's more, you see him in style."
With a soft whirr, the TARDIS doors open wider as the Doctor and his Bondmate roll out on the blue Vespa, wearing white crash helmets. The Doctor sports the signature shades his Bondmate picked, looking every bit a mod.
He tips his head with a mischievous grin, "You going my way, dolls?"
The Alchemist holds in a laugh. They are not in New York right now, which means their ship is up to something.
Rose poses with her hands on her hips, "Is there any other way to go, daddy-o? Straight from the fridge, man."
The Doctor's smirks, "Hey, you speak the lingo."
"Oh well, me, mum, Cliff Richard movies every Bank Holiday Monday," Rose says, slightly embarrassed.
She gets in the sidecar and puts on her matching pink crash helmet.
The Time Lord nods, "Ah, Cliff. I knew your mother'd be a Cliff fan."
The Alchemist playfully prods his side, "Don't diss Cliff. I like Cliff."
He laughs, "You two can have a Cliff Richard marathon sometime, then."
With that, they set off down the street, the wind in their hair and the sound of the Vespa's engine filling the air.
[Moped]
"Where we off to?" Rose asks.
"Ed Sullivan TV Studios. Elvis did Hound Dog on one of the shows. There were loads of complaints. Bit of luck, we'll just catch it," the Doctor explains.
She bites her lip, "And that'll be TV studios in, what, New York?"
"That's the one," the Doctor says with a nod.
"So very New York here, isn't it, Rose?" the Alchemist asks, and the young woman laughs.
A red London two-decker passes at the end of the street they're on. The Doctor pulls up next to a classic red post box, and Union Flag bunting and actual flags are seen stung up between each house.
"Yeah, ha! Digging that New York vibe," Rose laughs.
The Doctor Pouts, "Well, this could still be New York. I mean, this looks very New York to me. Sort of Londony New York, mind."
"Londony New York? I think we need to test your time and space senses again, love," the Alchemist snorts, and he huffs in annoyance.
Rose looks around, "What are all the flags for?"
"Something brilliant!" the Time Lady announces.
"No clues?" the Doctor asks.
"Union Flag Bunting," the Alchemist laughs, making the other two sigh in frustration.
[Florizel Street]
A television set is being delivered right from the back of Magpie's van.
"There you go, sir," he says proudly, "All wired up for the great occasion."
The Doctor approaches, "The great occasion? What do you mean?"
"Where've you been living, out in the Colonies? Coronation, of course," the man replies.
"What Coronation's that then?" the Doctor asks.
Magpie gives him a look of concern, "What do you mean? The Coronation."
"It's the Queen's. Queen Elizabeth the Second, Doctor," the Alchemist says with her bridge pinched.
He gasps, "Oh! Is this 1953?"
"Right time, wrong place," the Alchemist quips.
"Last time I looked. Time for a lovely bit of pomp and circumstance, what we do best," Magpie grins.
"This is strange though. There are far too many TV aerials. 1953? No way is this possible... or at least normal," the Time Lady says, looking around.
Rose nods, "Yeah, looks like everyone's got one. That's weird. My Nan said tellies were so rare they all had to pile into one house."
Magpie grimaces, "Not around here, loves. Magpie's Marvellous Tellies, only five quid a pop."
"Oh, but this is a brilliant year. Classic! Technicolour, Everest climbed, everything off the ration. The nation throwing off the shadows of war and looking forward to a happier, brighter future," the Time Lord says, not fully listening.
"Someone help me, please! Ted!" a woman shouts.
Two large men in black suits hustle a person into the back of a car, the top half of his body covered by a blanket.
"Leave him alone! He's my husband! Please," the woman cries.
"What's going on?" the Alchemist asks, concerned.
"What are you doing to him!?" the Doctor calls out.
A door to another house opens, and a young boy runs out.
"Oi, what are you doing?" he demands.
"Police business," Bishop says, "Now, get out of the way, Sir, Ma'am."
"Who did they take? Do you know him?" Rose asks the boy.
Shrugging, the boy suggests, "Must be Mister Gallagher."
The black car drives off.
"It's happening all over the place. They're turning into monsters," he explains.
His father calls out from the doorway, "Tommy! Not one word! Get inside now!"
Tommy sighs, "Sorry. I'd better do as he says,"
The Time Lords hop back onto the Moped, and Rose climbs into the sidecar.
"All aboard!" the Doctor shouts and they make chase.
[Moped]
The Doctor comes to a sudden stop in front of a building.
"Lost them. How'd they get away from us?" the Time Lord asks, confusion lacing his voice.
The Alchemist shrugs and leans over his shoulder to look around. "Not sure; I don't see anything odd here, and the smell of the bin over there is making it hard to figure out."
"Surprised they didn't turn back and arrest you for reckless driving. Have you actually passed your test?" Rose says, shaking her head.
"No," the Alchemist replies, and Rose turns white as a sheet.
The Doctor huffs, looking around. "Men in black? Vanishing police cars? This is Churchill's England, not Stalin's Russia."
"Oh, Churchill, he's a nice man," the Time Lady says, sharing a grin with the Doctor.
Rose interrupts, "Monsters, that boy said. Maybe we should go and ask the neighbors?"
"That's what I like about you," the Doctor smirks. "The domestic approach."
Rose pauses, giving him a puzzled look, "Thank you—wait, was that an insult?" she blinks, catching on, "Whoa!"
The Doctor revs the moped engine with a mischievous glint in his eye and speeds off once more.
[Front Door]
The Alchemist hits the doorknocker thrice before stepping back to stand beside her Bondmate again.
"Hi!" the Time Travelers greet in unison when the door opens.
The man standing there eyes them up and down, "Who are you, then?"
The Doctor reaches into his pocket, "Let's see, then. Judging by the look of you, family man, nice house, decent wage, fought in the war, therefore I represent Queen and country."
The trio grins as he holds up the psychic paper.
"Just doing a little check of Her forthcoming Majesty's subjects before the great day," the Time Lord says as he slides in through the open door, "Don't mind if we come in? Nah, I didn't think you did. Thank you."
The Time Lady gives the man a little wave, and she and Rose follow him inside.
[Living Room]
The Time Lord nods, his gaze sweeping the room, "Not bad. Very nice. Very well-kept. I'd like to congratulate you, Mrs...?"
"Connolly," Rita responds shakily.
Mr. Connolly puffs out his chest, "Now then, Rita. I can handle this. This gentleman's a proper representative. Don't mind the wife. She rattles on a bit."
The Doctor frowns, unconvinced, "Well, maybe she should rattle on a bit more. I'm not convinced you're doing your patriotic duty. Nice flags. Why are they not flying?"
"There we are, Rita, I told you. Get them up. Queen and country," Mr. Connolly orders, his tone harsh.
"I'm sorry," Rita whispers.
"Get it done. Do it now," he repeats with force.
The Doctor's frown deepens, "Hold on a minute."
Mr Connolly waves her off, "Like the gentleman says."
"Hold on a minute," the Time Lord repeats, his voice sharp, "You've got hands, Mister Connolly. Two big hands. So why is that your wife's job?"
He scoffs, "Well, it's housework, innit?"
"And that's a woman's job?" the Alchemist challenges, her spine straightening as she glares at him.
"Of course it is," he replies with a roll of his eyes.
The Alchemist steps closer, her voice cold, "Mister Connolly, what gender is the Queen?"
"She's a female," he says, confused.
The Alchemist purses her lips, "And are you suggesting the Queen does the housework at Buckingham?"
"No. Not at all," Mr. Connolly flounders.
She glares at him, voice low and commanding, "Then get busy."
Mr. Connolly stutters, "Right. Yes, sir, ma'am, ma'am!... You'll be proud of us, ma'am. We'll have Union Jacks left, right, and center."
Rose speaks up, her voice firm, "Excuse me, Mister Connolly. Hang on a minute. Union Jacks?"
"Yes, that's right, isn't it?"
"That's the Union Flag," she scoffs, shaking her head, "It's the Union Jack only when it's flown at sea."
He flounders again, clearly embarrassed, "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, I do apologize."
"Well, don't get it wrong again. There's a good man. Now get to it!" Rose orders, chin held high, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Right then! Nice and comfy, at Her Majesty's leisure," the Doctor says, sitting down casually before whispering, "Union Flag?"
Rose and the Alchemist follow suit, sitting down on the sofa.
"Mum went out with a sailor," Rose smirks.
"Oh ho ho ho. I bet she did," The Doctor laughs before turning to the boy, "Anyway, I'm the Doctor, this is my wife Ally, and this is Rose. And you are?"
"Tommy."
The Doctor pats the sofa beside him, "Well, sit yourself down, Tommy. Have a look at this. I love telly, don't you?"
Tommy smiles, "Yeah, I think it's brilliant."
"Good man!" the Time Lord says, grinning, "Keep working, Mister C! Now, why don't you tell me what's wrong?"
Rita speaks up, worried, "Did you say you were a doctor?"
He nods, his expression serious, "Yes, I am."
"Can you help her?" Rita begs, her eyes pleading, "Oh, please, can you help her, Doctor?"
"Now then, Rita, I don't think the gentleman needs to know," Mr. Connolly interrupts.
The Doctor frowns, "No, the gentleman does."
Rose turns to Rita, her tone gentle but firm, "Tell us what's wrong, and we can help."
Rita breaks down into tears, desperately trying to explain. Rose steps forward, trying to calm her down.
"I'm sorry. It's all right," Rose says softly, reaching out to comfort her. "Come here. It's okay."
Rita pushes her off when she touches her shoulder, trying to hug her. The Alchemist catches the motion and comes closer to her.
The Time Lady kneels in front of Rita, her voice a whisper, "Do you need help?"
Rita shudders, nodding.
"Then we'll be that help," the Time Lady assures her quietly.
Furious, Mr. Connolly glares at them all, "Hold on a minute. Queen and country's one thing, but this is my house! What the?" He throws the bunting to the ground, stepping on it as he approaches the Time Lord, "What the hell am I doing? Now you listen here, Doctor!" he spits, "You may have fancy qualifications, but what goes on under my roof is my business!"
"A lot of people are being bundled into..." the Doctor starts, but he's interrupted.
"I am talking!" Mr. Connolly shouts.
The Time Lord steps up, nearly nose-to-nose with Mr. Connolly, "And I'm not listening!" his own temper flairs, "Now you, Mister Connolly, you are staring into a deep, dark pit of trouble if you don't let us help."
The Alchemist stands, turning to the arguing pair. She flips out her psychic paper with a sharp motion, showing it to Mr. Connolly while glaring at him.
"As the Royal Protector of the Crown, I am ordering you, sir! Tell us what's going on!" the Alchemist demands, her voice full of authority.
Three thumps echo from upstairs, breaking the tension in the room.
"She won't stop. She never stops," Mr. Connolly whispers, his voice hollow.
"We started hearing stories... all 'round the place," Tommy explains, his voice shaky, "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."
"Show us," the Doctor demands, his tone resolute.
[Gran's Room]
The room is dark, and the constant thumping echoes from somewhere unseen, a persistent, unsettling noise.
"Gran? It's Tommy. It's all right, Gran. I've brought help," Tommy's voice trembles as he speaks to the woman in the chair.
The Alchemist approaches, her hand preceptors flicking on as she scans the old woman. Tommy flicks the light switch, but the room remains dim, the pale figure in the rocking chair moving unconsciously. Her face is utterly blank, features wiped away.
"There's barely anything in there, Doctor," the Alchemist says quietly, her voice holding a note of disbelief.
The Doctor nods, his frown deepening, "Her face is completely gone."
He scans her with his sonic screwdriver, the familiar whine filling the air as he reads the data.
"Hurry, I think someone's coming to take her," the Alchemist says, a sense of urgency creeping into her voice.
The Doctor barely looks up as he speeds through his analysis. "Scarcely an electrical impulse left. Almost complete neural shutdown."
The Time Lady nods, "It's like her mind's been wiped as well."
"What're we going to do, Doctor? We can't even feed her," Tommy says, his voice cracking with helplessness.
The Alchemist's gaze flickers to the door, a sudden sense of danger washing over her. Then, from downstairs, a crash reverberates through the house.
"We've got company," Rose says, alarmed.
Rita cries out in terror, "It's them. They've come for her!"
The Doctor turns quickly to Tommy, his voice demanding, "Quickly. What was she doing before this happened? Where was she? Tell me. Quickly, think!"
Tommy shakes his head, eyes wide, "I can't think! She doesn't leave the house! She was just…"
The door to the room slams open with a force that shakes the walls, and three burly men step inside, stomping heavily on the floor as they move toward Gran.
The Doctor steps forward, trying to block their path, "Hold on a minute. There are three important, brilliant, and complicated reasons why you should listen to me. One..."
Before he can finish, one of the men delivers a hard punch to his face, sending the Doctor crashing to the floor, unconscious.
"Doctor!" Rose shouts, rushing to his side.
The Alchemist steps forward, her eyes narrowing as she assesses the situation. Without hesitation, she punches the man who struck her Bondmate, her fist connecting with a sickening thud. He stumbles back, groans, and falls down the stairs, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth where his lip hits his teeth.
"You lay a hand on any of us again, and you'll be seeing the inside of yourself, got it?" the Alchemist yells, her body tensed, ready to defend her husband at any cost.
The remaining two men hesitate, glancing at one another before throwing a blanket over Gran and moving to carry her away. The Alchemist doesn't intervene immediately, knowing they're trying to escape. She'll make sure they don't.
Rose tries to rouse the Doctor, shaking him gently but desperately, "Doctor, wake up! Come on, please!"
"Leave her alone! No!" Rita cries out in anguish, her voice cracking with emotion.
"Doctor!" Rose calls again.
"Move, Rose," the Alchemist orders firmly.
[Staircase]
"Don't hurt her!" Rita begs, crying, as she tries to follow them out.
[Front Door]
"Back inside, Rita," Mr. Connolly orders.
Rita rounds on him, "She's my mother."
He glares, "Back inside now, I said."
The two men get Gran into the car as the other nurses his jaw where the Alchemist kicked him.
[Gran's Room]
"I said move!" the Alchemist shouts, her voice sharp and commanding, and with one last glance, Rose steps back reluctantly.
The Time Lady kneels beside the Doctor, placing her hand gently on his temple. Her mind reaches out, waking him with a rush of psychic energy from the fog of unconsciousness.
The Doctor jolts upright, his eyes wide with confusion. He shakes his head, trying to clear the daze, before reaching for his wife's hand. She pulls him up, steadying him as he stumbles to his feet.
"Ah, hell of a right hook," the Doctor mutters, rubbing his jaw with a wince. "I'll have to watch out for that."
They quickly rush out of the room and down the stairs, hoping to catch up with the men.
[Front Door]
"Don't fight it. Back inside," Mr. Connolly orders again.
"Rose, Ally, come on!" the Doctor calls as he runs out the door.
"Get back inside!" Mr. Connolly shouts at his son and wife.
Rose and the Alchemist pause at the living room door, seeing red energy flicker around the aerials of the television. The Time Lady glances between the open door and the television, theorizing.
"Did you see...?" Rose asks, and the Time Lady nods once, serious.
Tommy turns to him, "But Dad, they took her!"
"Don't fight it, son. Don't fight it."
[Florizel Street]
"Ally, Rose, we're going to lose them again!" the Doctor shouts from outside.
'I'm going to search elsewhere. You go with Rose,' she tells him.
"Go with him, Rose, I've got this," the Time Lady says.
Rose complies and sprints out the door, getting in the sidecar again, and they ride off.
'Got it,' the Time Lord replies, 'Stay safe!'
[Front Door]
"Dad, they took her! That was Gran, and they took her!"
Mr. Connolly grabs his son's shoulder and shoves him inside.
"Come on, back inside, now," he demands.
[Living Room]
The Alchemist frowns and turns the set around to see the last of the energy disappearing into the base of the aerial connection. She spots the label, remembering the delivery man from earlier.
"Anyway, how did they find her? Who told them?" Tommy asks, confused.
Mr. Connolly shouts at the Alchemist when he spots her, "You! Get the hell out of my house!"
The Alchemist approaches him, glaring, hissing lowly, "You do not, I repeat, do not order people around. Especially your own family. I see right through you, Connolly, and I will be back."
He swallows hard and glares at her retreating figure.
She calls over her shoulder, "By the way, you should be ashamed of two more things: those Union flags? They're hanging upside down, and you stepped on the ones you dropped."
[Magpie's Electricals]
The shop bell jingles violently as the Alchemist pushes the door open with a sharp swing.
"Ding dong!" she announces, her voice cutting through the musty, dim-lit air.
Magpie startles, his head popping up from behind the counter.
"Oh! Hello, ma'am. You're just in time. I was about to close up," he greets, his voice unsteady.
The Alchemist strides in with an air of authority, her sharp eyes taking in the rows of televisions and the faint hum of static that fills the room.
"I'm sure, I'm sure. Mind if I take a look around? I'm in the market for a set to go," she says smoothly.
Magpie's nervous smile falters, "Certainly. Go right ahead."
Without breaking stride, the Alchemist flips out her sonic device. Every television in the shop bursts to life with a quick hum, their screens illuminating rows of agonized faces trapped behind the glass, silently crying for help.
"Ooh," she says, her lips curling into a sardonic smile as she surveys the screens, "Looks like you've been catching some serious face time, huh, Mr. Magpie?"
Magpie stiffens, his eyes darting nervously to the counter.
"You shouldn't have done that," he mutters.
The Alchemist raises an eyebrow, "And why's that?"
Before Magpie can respond, a voice crackles from the television on the counter, "Because now I have to eat you up! "
The woman's face on the screen twists into a grotesque grin, her laughter reverberating through the shop.
The Alchemist's eyes narrow as she approaches the counter, "Using someone's image, are you? Saw the red static. What's your name?"
The screen flickers and the figure leans closer, her grin widening, "The Wire!" she declares, her voice laced with malevolent glee.
The Alchemist rolls her eyes, "Never heard of you. Planet of origin?"
"Oh, I bet you're delicious if you're not from Earth. Hermethica," she hisses.
"Ah, a brain-feeder," the Alchemist says, tilting her head slightly, "You siphon off electrical impulses, don't you? Why not just stay as you are?"
The Wire's face contorts with rage, "Because I'm stuck! Stuck on this wretched planet, and now I'll have you!"
The Alchemist stiffens, sensing movement behind her. Her instincts scream at her to act, but she doesn't. Instead, she stays poised, letting the moment play out.
"Go on, then," she murmurs, almost to herself, her eyes still locked on the Wire.
Magpie hesitates briefly before striking her hard with a metal pry bar across the back of the head. The Alchemist crumples to the floor, her body limp but her expression still calm.
"Feast! I shall feast!" the Wire crows in triumph—only to shriek in agony, "Get rid of her! Get rid of her! She's wrong—so wrong—it hurts! "
Magpie recoils, dropping the pry bar with a clatter. His face pale and drenched in sweat, he scrambles to lift the Alchemist. With trembling hands, he drags her outside, her weight sagging in his arms. He props her up on the sidewalk, glancing around anxiously before leaving her there and retreating inside.
[Outside the Yard]
The Doctor skids the moped to a halt, watching as a sleek black car slides through the gates of a dimly lit, fortified building. The gates clang shut behind it as they watch curiously.
The Doctor whistles low, a spark of admiration in his eyes, "Oh, very good. Very good."
"Yeah," Rose agrees, craning her neck to look up at the imposing structure, "That's some great hiding place."
Dismounting the bike, they make their way to the gates. The Doctor retrieves his sonic screwdriver, its familiar buzz cutting through the night as a smaller side door clicks open. They exchange a glance and slip inside, silent as shadows.
[Holding Area]
The room is dim and oppressive, the air thick with a metallic tang and mildew. The Doctor holds a finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. Rose nods, her eyes darting nervously as they creep forward.
Ahead, two burly men finish locking a heavy wire door with a clinking padlock before lumbering away. The Doctor wastes no time, pulling out his sonic screwdriver again and releasing the lock with a quiet snap. They step into the holding area, where large cages line the walls.
Inside one of the cages, a cluster of blank-faced individuals stands unnaturally still. Their features are eerily vacant, their fists clenching and unclenching in a slow, unsettling rhythm.
Rose stares, whispering, "Doctor, what...?"
He shines his torch into the cage, illuminating their faces. The figures respond as one, turning towards the light in a mechanical, synchronized motion. A chill runs down Rose's spine as she steps closer to the Doctor.
Suddenly, powerful searchlights blaze, flooding the room with harsh white light.
Rose flinches, shielding her eyes, "Doctor..."
A commanding voice cuts through the glare, "Stay where you are!"
[Bishop's Office]
The derelict office feels more like an interrogation room, the long table battered and flanked by mismatched chairs.
The Doctor and Rose sit across from Detective Inspector Bishop, who leans forward, his face set in a deep scowl.
"Start from the beginning. Tell me everything you know," Bishop orders, his tone clipped and accusatory.
The Doctor leans back casually, arms crossed, "Well, for starters, I know you can't wrap your hand around your elbow and make your fingers meet."
Rose smirks, joining in, "And you also can't lick it."
"Don't get clever with me," the detective's frown deepens, "You were there today at Florizel Street... and now breaking into this establishment. You're connected with this. Make no mistake."
The Doctor sits up slightly, "Well, the thing is, Detective Inspector Bishop..."
"How do you know my name?" Bishop interrupts, startled.
The Doctor points at his shirt collar, a sly grin returning, "It's written inside your collar. Bless your mum. But I can't help thinking... Detective Inspector, you're not exactly doing much detective inspecting, are you?"
Bishop bristles. "I'm doing everything in my power."
"Are you?" Rose asks, her tone sharp and accusing.
"All you're doing is grabbing those faceless people and hiding them as fast as you can," the Doctor adds, "Let me guess—orders from above? Coronation Day, the eyes of the world on London Town. Any sort of problem just gets swept out of sight."
Bishop looks away, his shoulders sagging, "The nation has an image to maintain."
"But doesn't it drive you mad, doing nothing?" the Doctor presses, "Don't you want to get out there and investigate?"
Bishop sighs heavily, finally meeting their eyes again, "Of course I do. But with all the crowds expected, we haven't got the manpower. Even if we did, this is beyond anything we've ever seen. I just don't know anymore. Twenty years on the force, and I haven't the faintest clue where to start."
"Well, that could change," the Doctor says firmly.
"How?" Bishop asks, his voice tinged with desperation.
"Start from the beginning," the Doctor demands, "Tell me everything you know."
Bishop nods, gathering himself, "We started finding them about a month ago. People left sans visage. Heads just blank."
"Is there any sort of pattern?" the Doctor asks.
"Yes," Bishop replies, "Spreading out from North London, all over the city. Men, women, kids, grannies. The only real lead is there's been quite a large number in..."
"Florizel Street," the Time Lord finishes, his voice grim.
Rose chimes in, "Ally and I saw this red electricity from the telly. Maybe that has to do with it?"
Before the Doctor can respond, the door bursts open. Another officer enters, carrying a blanketed figure. His face is pale and tight with distress.
"Found another one, sir," the officer announces, "Different than the others, though—still has her features, but everything's just shut."
He pulls back the blanket, revealing the Alchemist.
'Amara!?' the Doctor cries telepathically to no response.
The Alchemist's fists, unlike the others, are clenched tightly at her sides, showing her fury despite the calm expression on her face.
"Good man, Crabtree," Bishop says, oblivious to the Doctor's reaction, "Here we are, Doctor. Take a good look. See what you can deduce."
The Doctor's hands curl into fists, his voice low and dangerous, "Ally."
Rose gasps, her hand flying to her mouth, "Oh my God."
"You know her?" Bishop asks, puzzled.
"Know her?" the Doctor growls, his voice trembling with barely contained rage, "She's my wife."
Bishop falters, "I... I didn't know..."
"They found her in the street," Crabtree interjects. "Over by Master Square, abandoned."
The Doctor freezes, his expression darkening, "They did what?"
Rose freezes. The anger in his voice sends a chill down her spine. She knows that tone—the same one he used when he stood against the Daleks, against impossible odds. But this time, it's more focused, more dangerous.
"I'm sorry?" Bishop asks, alarmed.
"They left her where?"
"In the street," Crabtree confirms nervously.
"In the street," the Doctor repeats, his voice a deadly whisper, "They left my wife in the street. Tried to take her face, and then just tossed her out like garbage," his eyes are cold, fury palpable, "And that makes things very, very simple. Do you know why?"
Bishop swallows hard. "N-no."
The Doctor steps closer, his presence almost suffocating, "Because now, Detective Inspector Bishop, there is no power in this universe that can stop me."
He turns sharply to Rose, "Stay here. Watch over her."
Then to Bishop, his tone cold and commanding: "Come on, Detective Inspector."
[Connolly's Front Door]
The Time Lord rings the Connolly's doorbell and waits a moment before Tommy answers.
"Tommy, talk to me," the Doctor asks desperately, "I need to know exactly what happened inside your house."
Tommy nods and exits the house. He goes to shut the door before his father comes out, grasps him tightly by the shoulder, and drags him back inside.
"What the blazes do you think you're doing?" Mr. Connolly demands of him.
Tommy tells him, "I want to help, Dad."
"Mister Connolly," the Doctor tries, attempting to be calm.
"Shut your face—you—whoever you are!" Mr. Connolly shouts, "We can handle this ourselves!" he turns back to his son, "Listen, you little twerp. You're hardly out of the blooming' cradle, so I don't expect you to understand. But I've got a position to maintain. People 'round here respect me. It matters what people think."
"Is that why you did it, Dad?" Tommy asks, rounding on him.
"What do you mean? Did what?" Mr. Connolly gapes.
He scoffs, "You ratted on Gran. How else would the police know where to look—unless some coward told them."
"How dare you!" Mr. Connolly shouts, shaking him, "Do you think I fought a war just so a mouthy little scum like you could call me a coward?"
Tommy rips his arm free from his father's nearly unyielding grip.
"You don't get it, do you? You fought against fascism, remember? People telling you how to live, who you could be friends with, who you could fall in love with, who could live, and who had to die. Don't you get it? You were fighting so that little twerps like me could do what we want, say what we want. Now you've become just like them. You've been informing on everyone, haven't you? Even Gran. All to protect your precious reputation."
Rita approaches, "Eddie, is that true?"
"I did it for us, Rita! She was filthy... A filthy, disgusting thing!" Eddie spits.
His wife shakes her head, "She's my mother. All the others you informed on, all the people in our street, our friends."
"I had to. I... I did the right thing," Mr. Connolly tries to defend.
"The right thing for us or for you, Eddie?" Rita says with a glare before turning to his son, "You go, Tommy. Go with the Doctor and do some good. Get away from this house. It's poison. We had a ruddy monster under this roof, alright, but it weren't my mother!"
Rita walks back inside, tearing up, and slams the door on her husband, locking it behind her.
"Rita!" Eddie calls out, his voice strangled.
The Doctor implores, "Tommy?"
He nods, takes the Doctor's hand, and they walk down the steps.
[Florizel Street]
Guiding the boy through the busy street, where neighbors are setting up for the big occasion, the Time Lord interviews him.
"Tommy, tell me about that night," he asks, "The night she changed."
He shrugs, "She was just watching the telly."
"Ally said it. She guessed it straight away. Even Rose thought it wrong," the Doctor nods, looking up at the antennae on the roofs along the street, "Of course she did. All these aerials in one little street. They saw red electricity from the television... How come?"
"Bloke up the road, Mister Magpie, he's selling them cheap."
"Is he, now?" Bishop asks, approaching them.
The Time Lord's eyes narrow, and he runs down the street, "Come on!"
[Magpie's Electricals]
The Doctor punches through the door's glass pane with a sharp crack, reaching in to unlock it. He throws the door open and steps inside, shaking off the stray shards from his hand.
"You can't do that!" Bishop exclaims, alarmed.
The Doctor shoots him a pointed look, already scanning the shop with his sharp gaze.
"Shop!" he replies sarcastically, then strides to the counter, hitting the bell with rhythmic urgency, "If you're here, come out and talk to me! Magpie!"
Tommy peers around nervously, "Maybe he's out," he offers.
The Doctor nods, thoughtful, "Looks like it."
Without warning, he vaults over the counter in a single fluid motion and begins yanking open drawers, rifling through their contents. His hands find a portable television set, and he lifts it with curious reverence, inspecting it closely.
"Oh, hello. This isn't right. This is very much not right," he mutters, frowning at the sleek design.
He hesitates a moment, then—much to Bishop and Tommy's disbelief—licks the side of it.
"Tastes like iron. Bakelite. Put together with human hands, yes, but the design itself... Oh, beautiful work. So simple." His tone shifts, the weight of the situation crashing back over him, "Ally would've loved this. Damn it all."
He sets the television down with uncharacteristic force, rubbing his damp eyes in frustration.
Bishop stares wide-eyed, "That's incredible. It's like a television... but portable. A portable television!"
The Doctor doesn't acknowledge the remark. Instead, he whips out his sonic screwdriver and begins scanning the shop, its high-pitched whir filling the room. His movements grow more precise, and more intent, until he stops abruptly.
"It's not the only power source in this room," he declares, leaping back over the counter.
He strides purposefully to the wall of televisions and sonics them. Screens burst to life one after the other, static giving way to distorted faces trapped behind the glass, their expressions crying out in mute despair.
"Gran?" Tommy whispers, moving closer to one of the screens, his voice trembling.
The Doctor's focus narrows as his eyes find what he's looking for: a screen in the bottom row flickers, revealing a face that makes his breath catch. The Alchemist stares back at him, her sclera swirling with the telltale light of the Vortex. Her lips move silently: Get me the hell out of here, Doctor.
The Time Lord reaches out, his hand trembling as it touches the screen, "I will, Alchemist. I swear it."
Magpie suddenly emerges from the back room, startled, "What do you think you're doing?"
The Doctor straightens, his eyes like steel, "I want my wife restored, and I think that's beyond a little backstreet electrician. So tell me—who's really in charge here?"
A voice cuts through the room, sing-song and feminine, "Yoo-hoo! That must be me! Ooh, this one's smart as paint."
Bishop stumbles back, pointing at a television where the image of a woman's face has taken over, "Good Lord. She's talking to us!"
"I'm sorry, gentlemen," Magpie says, his shoulders sagging, "I'm afraid you've brought this on yourselves. May I introduce you to my new... friend."
The woman on the television cackles wickedly, "Jolly nice to meet you!"
"Oh my God," Bishop gasps. "It's her! That woman off the telly."
The Doctor shakes his head, "No, it's just using her image."
"What? What are you?" Tommy asks, concerned.
"I'm the Wire, and I will gobble you up, pretty boy," the entity replies with malevolent glee. "Every last morsel. And when I have feasted, I shall regain the corporeal body, which my fellow kind denied me!"
The screen flickers, the image turning to vibrant technicolor.
"Good Lord. Color television!" Bishop stammers in awe.
The Doctor narrows his eyes, "So your own people tried to stop you?"
"They executed me!" the Wire snaps, her expression darkening, "But I escaped in this form and fled across the stars."
"And now you're trapped in the television," the Time Lord deduces.
"Not for much longer! Ooh, and you're like the other one, aren't you? From somewhere else. I bet you'll taste divine."
"Doctor, is this what got my Gran?" Tommy asks, his voice shaking.
"Yes, Tommy," the Doctor confirms grimly. "It feeds off the electrical activity of the brain, taking people's faces, their essence. But you couldn't get her completely, could you?" he glances back at the Alchemist's screen.
"She's wrong!" the Wire screeches. "And she won't let go!"
The Doctor smirks as he sees the Alchemist wink at him from her screen.
"Good on you, Ally," he mutters.
"And you let her do it, Magpie," Bishop accuses.
Magpie looks at the floor, shamefaced, "I had to. She allowed me my face. She's promised to release me at the time of manifestation."
Tommy asks, "What does that mean?"
"The appointed time. My crowning glory," the Wire replies.
"Doctor, the coronation!" Bishop cries in alarm.
"For the first time in history, millions gathered around a television set," The Doctor nods, his voice cold, "But you're not strong enough yet, are you? You can't do it all from here. That's why you need this. You need something more powerful! This will turn a big transmitter into a big receiver."
The Wire glares at him, "What a clever thing you are! But why fret about it? Why not just relax? Kick off your shoes and enjoy the Coronation. Believe me, you'll be glued to the screen."
The Wire lashes out with red energy, tendrils wrapping around the Doctor, Tommy, and Bishop.
"Doctor!" Bishop shouts.
"Hungry! Hungry! The Wire is hungry!" the Wire cackles and reaches more toward the Doctor, "Ah, this one is tasty, not like that woman. Oh, I'll have lashings of him! Delicious!"
The Doctor, sonic at hand, begins to adjust it to fight back.
"Ah! Armed. He's armed and clever," the Wire groans. "But that won't save you!"
The Doctor struggles, his sonic knocked from his hand as the red energy intensifies.
"Eat you, eat you all up! Clever and all!"
Gold and blue energy burst from the Alchemist's screen, driving the red tendrils back.
The Wire screams in pain, "Ah! It hurts! Pain, pain! Withdraw! Withdraw!"
The three collapse to the ground in lifeless heaps, unconscious from the Wire's assault, while Magpie grabs the portable television and rushes out of the shop.
The swirling energy expands from the Alchemist's television again and taps the Doctor on the forehead before withdrawing quickly. He snaps awake and looks between the Alchemist's frowning Television, Tommy, and Bishop. The Detective Insepector's face has been wiped clean. He frowns, glancing at his wife's now empty screen. He could have sworn he felt her kiss his forehead.
Shaking his head, he leaps to his feet and rushes to Tommy.
"Tommy, wake up!" he urges, shaking the boy, "Tommy, come on!"
Tommy stirs groggily. "What happened?"
"Where's Magpie?" he asks him.
Tommy shrugs his shoulders once he sits up, not knowing.
The Time Lord glances back at his wife's screen. Her face pops back up, and she's glaring at the doorway, her natural eyes back.
He nods, pulling Tommy to his feet. "No time! Come on!"
[Outside the Shop]
"We don't even know where to start looking. It's too late,"
"It's never too late, as a wise person once said. ...Kylie, I think. Even better, my wife says there's always time, and there is! She's helping us even when stuck in a telly," the Doctor tells him, "The Wire's got big plans. ...It'll need... Yes, yes, yes! It's got to harvest half the population. Millions and millions of people and... where are we?"
The Doctor turns to Tommy, ready for the answer.
"Muswell Hill," Tommy explains.
"Muswell Hill. Muswell Hill! Which means Alexandra Palace, biggest TV transmitter in North London. Oh, that's why it chose this place," he realizes and nods, "Tommy?"
"What are you going to do?" Tommy asks.
He rolls his eyes, "We're going to do something I hate."
"What's that?"
"Shopping."
Inside the shop on the screen, the Alchemist pops back up, laughing silently.
[Magpie's Electricals]
Tommy hurries over with a large valve, holding it up eagerly.
"Is this what you want?" he asks.
The Doctor's eyes light up, and he nods emphatically, "Perfect! Right, I need one more thing..."
His gaze shifts back to the Alchemist's flickering TV screen as he speaks. Her image is mouthing words again, her expression intense. He narrows his eyes, leaning closer to decipher her message.
"Two... base cylinders... one... breaks. Oh, really? Thanks for the heads-up," he murmurs, then presses a quick, affectionate kiss to the screen.
Straightening up, he spins on his heel and turns to Tommy with a burst of energy.
"Tommy, I need one more of those cylinders you found!" he declares.
Tommy gives a quick nod and dashes off to find another. Moments later, he returns with the requested part.
"Now we're perfect!" the Doctor exclaims, gathering the parts and stacking them in Tommy's arms. "Back to that last piece, come on!"
Without waiting, the Doctor bolts out of the shop toward the TARDIS. Tommy scrambles to keep up, clutching the precariously balanced pile, doing his best not to drop anything as they sprint out.
[Outside the TARDIS]
The Doctor shuts the door of the TARDIS and grins at the boy, "Got it. Let's go save the world."
[Alexandra Palace]
Magpie makes his way up, climbing the transmitter pylon. The Doctor builds a contraption while he and Tommy run through the streets.
"I can't do this!" Magpie cries, "Please, please don't make me!"
The Wire commands, "The time is at hand. Feed me! Feed me!"
"There!" Tommy shouts, spotting them.
"Come on!" the Doctor shouts, leading them towards the gate.
A guard stops them, "Wait, wait, wait! Where do you think..." he pauses and gapes when the Doctor shows him his psychic paper.
"Oh! I'm very sorry, sir. Shouldn't you be at the Coronation?"
"They're saving me a seat," the Doctor calls out, and they run past the guard.
They turn a corner, and Tommy asks, "Who did he think you were?"
"King of Belgium, apparently," the Time Lord replies, sparing a glance at the paper.
[Control Room]
Tommy stands before the television controller, his eyes fixed on the screen displaying the start of the Coronation. The Doctor darts from station to station, collecting equipment and assembling his makeshift machine with precision and urgency.
Finally, the Time Lord pauses and turns to Tommy, "Keep this switched on. Don't let anyone stop you, Tommy. Everything depends on it. You understand?"
Tommy meets his gaze, nodding with determination.
Satisfied, the Doctor grabs a coil of copper wire attached to the device and throws it over his shoulder. Alongside it, he takes a roll of magnetic recording tape from a VHS. Without hesitation, he strides toward the exit, trailing the wire and tape behind him as he heads for the transmitter, his mind racing with the plan unfolding.
[Alexandra Palace]
He sprints up to the transmitter and takes a deep breath, looking up at the tall pylon from the roof. The Doctor wraps the reel and coil of wire around him and begins climbing. Ready to save not only the world but also his Bondmate and wife.
"You'll get yourself killed up there!" the guard shouts up, alarmed, "Your Majesty!"
[Transmitter]
"Oh, feast," the Wire keens, "Feasting! The Wire is feasting!"
The Doctor climbs to the top of the transmitter's pylon, determination etched across his face as he approaches Magpie and the Wire.
Magpie cries out in desperation, "It's too late! It's too late for all of us!"
"I shall consume you, Doctor," the Wire howls, her energy crackling violently as it lashes out, striking the Time Lord.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, the Doctor retorts, "I won't let you do this, Magpie!"
Magpie collapses to his knees, his voice trembling, "Help me, Doctor. It burns. It took my face, my soul."
"You cannot stop the Wire. Soon, I shall become manifest," the entity declares, her laughter echoing through the air.
Another surge of red energy strikes both the Doctor and Magpie.
"No more of this," Magpie pleads, "You promised me peace!"
"And peace you shall have," the Wire replies cruelly, unleashing another blast.
Magpie disintegrates into countless red sparks, his body vanishing like dust in the wind.
The Doctor narrows his eyes, "Been burning the candle at both ends, have you? You've overextended yourself, missus. You shouldn't have had a go at poor old Magpie, and you definitely shouldn't have touched my wife."
Dodging another arc of energy, the Doctor manages to secure the portable television despite the Wire's relentless efforts.
"Rubber soles, swear by them!" he quips, plugging in the cable with precision.
A sudden explosion rocks the machine in the control room, making Tommy jump as one of the cylinders bursts.
The Wire cackles mockingly. "Oh dear. Has our little plan gone horribly wrong, Doctor?"
Tommy's eyes widen in alarm, but he quickly remembers the backup cylinder. With steady hands, he replaces the part and reconnects the device.
The red energy surging through the transmitter begins to recede, drawn back into the portable television.
"No!" the Wire screams, her voice laced with terror as the energy pulls her in.
The Doctor scowls, his tone firm, "It's close-down time, I'm afraid, and no epilogue."
The Wire gives a final, piercing scream before the screen goes dark.
Taking a deep breath, the Doctor steadies himself and begins his descent from the pylon, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and resolve.
[Holding Area]
Rose's heart pounds with worry; every time something happens to the Alchemist, the Doctor seems to unravel. She gasps as a hand touches her shoulder, instinctively spinning to strike, but her arm is caught mid-air.
"I'm not going to attack you, Rose. Goodness, I wasn't even stepping silently this time," the Alchemist remarks, her eyes narrowing.
Rose stammers, still catching her breath, "The... the Doctor's out there trying to save you."
The Time Lady nods, her voice calm but firm, "I know. He succeeded. If you actually looked around, you'd see everyone is back—including me. I'm going to find him before he loses it. Get these people out of here."
Without another word, the Alchemist vanishes in a flash. Rose blinks, stunned momentarily, before looking around and realizing the truth. A soft smile spreads across her face as she sees the formerly blank-faced individuals now restored, their expressions a mix of confusion and relief.
Wasting no time, Rose waves down the guards. Together, they quickly unlock the chain-link cells, freeing the frightened people and guiding them to safety.
[Control room]
"What have I missed?" the Time Lord asks Tommy.
He spins, "Doctor! What happened?"
"Sorted. Electrical creature, TV technology, clever alien life form. That's me, by the way. I turned the receiver back into a transmitter, and I trapped the Wire in here," he explains, holding up the VCR, "I just invented the home video thirty years early," he lets out a tight laugh, "Betamax. Oh, look. God save the Queen, eh?"
"Thank you," the Alchemist says softly, her voice drawing the Doctor's attention.
He turns to her, his shoulders sagging with relief, and pulls her into a tight hug. Her taller frame fits easily as he tucks her under his chin, pressing a series of quick, relieved kisses to the top of her head.
Tommy watches the reunion with a bright smile, his heart warmed by the sight.
Pulling back slightly, the Doctor looks her over with concern, "How did she even get you?"
The Alchemist rolls her eyes with a faint huff, "I blocked it immediately, but Magpie hit me and knocked me out. Felt like a crowbar? You'll have to check my head later, yeah?"
His expression tightens with worry as he nods.
"Are you okay now, Mrs. Ally?" Tommy asks tentatively, stepping closer.
She turns to him with a reassuring smile, "I am, Tommy, and so is your Gran. Let's go find her, shall we?"
"Yes!" Tommy exclaims, his face lighting up as he excitedly dashes out of the room.
The Time Lords exchange a fond glance, their bond unspoken but palpable, before clasping hands and following after him, their steps steady.
[Yard]
The trio steps into the yard, smiles lighting up their faces as they take in the sight of the freed captives.
Tommy's grandmother gasps in shock, her voice full of emotion, "Oh, it's my grandson! Oh, son!"
Tommy rushes over, pulling her into a tight, joyful hug, relief flooding him.
The Doctor, beaming, turns to his wife. Without a word, he lifts her effortlessly into his arms, spinning her around with a childlike glee before showering her face with kisses, causing her to laugh softly, her eyes sparkling with happiness.
Rose watches the scene, her throat tightening. She swallows hard, her gaze lingering momentarily before quickly looking away, a pang of something she refuses to name flickering in her chest.
[Florizel Street]
The music flows through the street, blending with the chatter of neighbors celebrating, tables laden with treats and drinks. The atmosphere is alive with energy, and Florizel Street feels like it's in the midst of a joyful celebration.
"We could go down the Mall, join in with the crowds," Rose suggests, eyeing the lively scene.
The Doctor shakes his head with a knowing smile, "Nah, that's just pomp and circumstance. This... this is history right here."
Rose raises an eyebrow, "The domestic approach."
"Exactly," the Doctor says with a grin, a mischievous gleam in his eye.
Her smile softens as she glances at him, her tone uncertain, "Will it, that thing—will it be trapped for good on video?"
"Hope so," the Doctor shrugs nonchalantly, "But just to be on the safe side, I'll use my unrivaled knowledge of transtemporal extirpation methods to neutralize the residual electronic pattern."
Rose blinks in confusion, "You what?"
Before the Doctor can elaborate, the Alchemist deadpans, "He's going to tape over it."
"Just leave it to me. I'm always doing that," Rose laughs.
They approach Tommy, who's standing nearby, watching the ongoings.
"Tell you what, Tommy, you can have the scooter," the Doctor says, his voice lighter now, "Little present. Best, uh, keep it in the garage for a few years, though, yeah?"
Tommy grins, accepting the offer, but his gaze shifts as he spots Eddie walking out of the house, a long overcoat draped over his shoulders and a suitcase in hand.
"Good riddance," Tommy mutters, a mix of disdain and relief in his voice.
Rita embraces her mother as Eddie walks past them, not even sparing a glance.
The Doctor watches the scene thoughtfully, then turns to Tommy, "Is that it, then? New monarch, new age, new world. No room for a man like Eddie Connelly."
Tommy nods firmly, "That's right. He deserves it."
Rose crouches down, placing her hands on her knees as she looks directly at the boy, "Tommy, go after him."
"Why?" he asks, his voice tinged with bitterness.
She smiles softly, "He's your dad."
Tommy looks away, his jaw tightening, "He's an idiot."
"Of course he is," Rose grins, her tone gentle, "Like I said, he's your dad. But you're clever. Clever enough to save the world, so don't stop there. Go on."
Tommy shakes his head, frustration clouding his expression, "He's too horrible for that."
Rose's smile falters, "You don't mean that."
Tommy throws her a sharp, angry look before turning back to watch his father leave, the hurt and confusion deepening in his gaze.
The Alchemist sighs, sitting down on the sidewalk beside Tommy, facing him with empathy in her eyes. She noticed the subtle change in his posture, the way he seemed to withdraw inward.
"Tommy," the Time Lady says quietly, her voice gentle, "Did he hurt her?"
Tommy's gaze flickers toward her, then down to the ground, nodding quietly.
Rose stands up again, her expression unreadable now. She hadn't expected this.
"Did you try to get the attention off of her so that he would focus on you instead?" the Alchemist asks softly, her voice full of concern.
Tommy nods again, his face hardening, but his eyes betray the weight of his past.
The Alchemist exhales softly, her gaze never leaving Tommy. "Sometimes people hurt those we love without thinking about it... because they're very, very hurt themselves," she pauses, her words carefully chosen, "Did he still say he loved you both often?"
Tommy's voice drops to a whisper, barely audible, but it's clear, "Yes."
The Time Lady nods thoughtfully, "Do you think he meant it? In his eyes, in his face—did it look like he meant it?"
Tommy's voice quivers, "Yeah, he... he did. No gifts or anything, just... nice and happy and loving, and then suddenly he'd get mean and..."
The Alchemist watches the man walk away, her eyes softening before she turns back to Tommy.
"He's still in there, your old dad. There's something worth saving if you push for it. Give him an ultimatum. Tell him to find help, go to counseling through the B.P.S., and if he makes the effort, he can stay in your life. He loves you, Tommy. It's just that all the hurt inside him... it's twisted how it comes out. Someone needs to push him toward the right path—let that someone be you. Rose is right; you're clever enough to save the world. You can help him take that leap, but you need to make him take it. And when he does, you walk beside him, no judgment. Can you do that?"
Tommy looks at her, doubt lingering in his eyes. "Do you really think he'll do it?"
"He might not," she shrugs, her gaze steady but kind, "But what's life if you're not willing to take a risk? You want to help, you want to ask the right questions—so go ask him."
Now more certain, Tommy nods stiffly and runs off to talk to his father.
Rose watches him go before turning back to the Alchemist, "How did you know? I didn't expect that."
The Doctor stands beside her, his expression darkening with concern.
The Alchemist looks at them both, then shakes her head.
"You need to look to see," she says softly as she rises to her feet.
Tommy and his father are talking now, and the Alchemist watches closely, her relief growing when she hears the man's voice: "I'll do it. Anything. I'll do it."
Rose looks at her, confused and curious, "What does that mean?"
The Alchemist's eyes remain sharp, but her voice is quiet, "Rita's hair, no makeup, those tights... It wasn't just about her mother. Those tights were paired with a house dress, something out of place, something unfamiliar. She flinched when you touched her shoulder. And Tommy... Tommy's moving cautiously, like he's hurt. His ribs, Rose. They're injured. Why do you think Tommy was so angry? It wasn't just about him. It was about his Mum. When you're in pain, you care more about those you love being hurt than yourself. That's why he's carrying all this anger. He's been hurt, too."
Rose looks at her, understanding dawning, but the Alchemist's face remains unreadable.
The Alchemist turns and begins to walk away toward the TARDIS, her movements purposeful.
Rose watches her, the question lingering in her mind.
"Is she okay?" she asks softly.
The Doctor shakes his head, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion, "No, Rose. She's not."
Without another word, he heads toward the TARDIS, following his wife inside.
[TARDIS Console Room]
The Doctor closes the TARDIS doors behind him, his posture slumped with the moment's weight.
"Your mother," he murmurs, his voice heavy with regret.
The Alchemist nods from the jump seat, her expression distant but knowing. "She didn't take the ultimatum. She chose to stay out of our children's lives," she says quietly. "I tried... but it was on her. She should never have laid a hand on my brother."
The Doctor exhales deeply, walking over to sit beside her. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as she rests her head against his neck, finding solace in the familiar warmth of his presence.
There's nothing he can say to it; he did the same to his own father.