Chapter Thirty Five: The Idiot's Lantern

When Rose had elected to stay home with Jackie for a few weeks, she had made the mistake of leaving the Doctor and Alex with the instructions to not get killed. In fairness to the alien couple, that had left them with a lot of options, and all of them had been insanely dangerous and therefore terribly exciting.

Now though, they were going to a concert, partly so they'd have something non-dangerous to tell Jackie about. Alex checked her appearance in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her blue tulle dress. She'd picked it especially for the shade which brought out the blue in her eyes. They were the only physical sign of similarity between this body and the one she had been born with.

She'd done her hair too, curled it up into victory rolls with the help of the internet on her new phone. Overall, she looked like she'd stepped right out of the fifties. Now to find some shoes...

***

The Doctor landed the TARDIS expertly—okay, amateurishly, but with style—and put the handbrake on, sliding the screen towards him to do environmental checks. He'd never done them before, but he was waiting for Alex anyway and besides, everyone kept going on about them. Surely they must be worth the hype.

Someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned, and his eyes widened.

Alex stood in the entrance to the corridor, wearing a long blue dress with matching boots. Her hair, which complemented the colour of her dress, was pinned up in rolling curls. She looked wonderful.

Eventually, she raised her eyebrows, uneasy in the silence. "Well?"

He shook himself, his face splitting into a grin. "You look beautiful, considering."

She smiled, walking over to join him at the console. "Considering what?"

"That you're a married woman." He rested his hands on her hips.

"I think I made my feelings on the matter clear at the time," she pointed out, putting her own hands on his chest.

He narrowed his eyes playfully. "Remind me, how did that go?"

She just smiled and kissed him, long and hard, and as his hands came to rest on her back, she pulled away. "A bit like that," she said, sighing happily. Then she pouted. "Do we have to go to the concert?"

"You promised your mother you'd get his autograph," the Doctor reminded her, busying himself with the monitor again. "And I promised Rose that I would be the poster child for respectable gentlemen."

Alex rolled her eyes. "You should really just hurry up and marry me, then."

"Hmm?"

"What? Oh, never mind." She bit her lip, stifling the prickle of doubt at the back of her mind. He wouldn't have said he wanted to marry her if he didn't mean it. The tiny voice in her head reminded her that he hadn't actually said it in so many words. And if he did want to marry her, why didn't he just ask? She told the voice to shut up, which it didn't, but never mind. She headed outside, then called back to him through the half open door. "I thought we'd be going for the Vegas era. You know, with the white flares and all that chest hair."

The Doctor poked his head out of the TARDIS, one eyebrow raised dramatically. "You are kidding, aren't you?" She poked her tongue out at him. "You want to see Elvis, you go for the late fifties. The time before burgers. When they called him the Pelvis and he still had a waist." He ducked back indoors. "What's more, you get to see him in style." She heard the revving of an engine, and then he was driving a scooter out of the TARDIS, wearing a white crash helmet. He put on an American accent. "You going my way, doll?"

She grinned. "Is there any other way to go, daddy-o? Straight from the fridge, man!"

"Hey, you speak the lingo!" he cheered, chucking her a pale blue helmet.

She shrugged, climbing on behind him and putting on the helmet. "Oh, well, me, Rose, Mum, Cliff Richard movies every Bank Holiday Monday."

"Oh, Cliff," he sighed. "I knew your mother'd be a Cliff fan." He pulled away from the curb.

"So where are we off to?" Alex asked.

"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."

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

"That's the one."

Alex bit her lip to hide a smile as a red double-decker bus drove past. She looked up to see Union Flag bunting strewn from house to house, and burst out laughing. "Ha! Digging that New York vibe!"

The Doctor pouted. "Well, this could still be New York. I mean, this looks very New York to me. Sort of London-y New York, mind."

"Kas?"

"Hmm?"

"If this is New York, then what are all the flags for?" she pointed out. He sighed.

***

They ended up on Florizel Street, leaving their scooter and helmets on the kerb. On the other side of the road, a new television set was being delivered from the back of a van emblazoned with 'Magpie Electricals'.

"There you go, sir, all wired up for the great occasion," Mr Magpie was saying as the Doctor and Alex approached.

"The great occasion?" the Doctor echoed. "What do you mean?"

"Where've you been living, out in the Colonies?" Magpie shook his head. "Coronation, of course."

"What coronation's that, then?" the Doctor asked.

Magpie frowned. "What do you mean? The coronation."

Alex raised her eyebrows at the Doctor, who looked completely lost. "It's the Queen's." He blinked. "Queen Elizabeth?" she reminded him.

"Oh!" His eyes widened. "Is this 1953?" Beside him, Alex rolled her eyes.

"Last time I looked," Magpie confirmed. "Time for a lovely bit of pomp and circumstance, what we do best."

"Look at all the TV aerials," Alex said, shielding her eyes to look at them all. "Looks like everyone's got one. My nan said tellies were so rare they all had to pile into one house."

"Not around here, love," Magpie chuckled, patting his van. "Magpie's Marvellous Tellies, only five quid a pop."

"Oh, but this is a brilliant year," the Doctor grinned. "Classic! Technicolour, Everest climbed, everything off the ration." He put on an aristocratic British accent. "The nation throwing off the shadows of war and looking forward to a happier, brighter future."

"Someone help me, please! Ted!"

They whipped around to see a woman trying to stop two suited men from bundling a man into the back of a police car. There was a blanket over his head.

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

"Oi!" Alex shouted. "What are you doing?!" A teenaged boy ran up, adding his voice to the cry.

"Police business," one of the men said firmly. "Now get out of the way, sirs, miss." They nodded to them, then got into the car and drove off.

"Who did they take?" Alex asked the boy. "Did you know him?"

"Must be Mr Gallagher," the boy said, his eyes wide. "It's happening all over the place. They're turning into monsters."

"Tommy!" They all looked round to see a furious man on his doorstep. "Not one word! Get inside, now!"

Tommy winced. "Sorry, I'd better do as he says." He hurried back to the house, the door slamming shut behind him. Alex stared after him, setting her jaw.

"Come on," the Doctor said, readying the scooter. "All aboard." She climbed on behind him and they gave chase to the police car.

But not more than ten minutes later, they came to a stop in a dead end.

"Lost them," he realised, disgruntled. "How'd they get away from us?"

Alex snorted, clinging onto him for dear life. "Surprised they didn't turn back and arrest you for reckless driving. Have you actually passed your test?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, but men in black, vanishing police cars? This is Churchill's England, not Stalin's Russia."

"Monsters, that boy said," Alex remembered. "Maybe we should go and ask the neighbours."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows at her. "That's what I like about you. The domestic approach."

She grinned. "Thank you." Then she hesitated. "Hold on, was that an insult?" The Doctor pulled away sharply, and she shrieked, throwing her arms around his waist hurriedly. "I really wish you wouldn't do that!"

***

Tommy's father opened the door roughly and was startled to see the Doctor and Alex standing on the doorstep, wearing identical bright smiles.

"Hi," they chorused.

"Who're you then?" he asked, wrongfooted.

"Let's see." The Doctor lowered his voice. "Judging by the look of you, family man, nice house, decent wage, fought in the war, therefore—" He raised his voice again. "—We represent Queen and Country."

"Just doing a little check on her forthcoming Majesty's subjects before the great day," Alex explained quickly, not letting the man get a word in edgeways. "Don't mind if we come in? Nah, didn't think you did. Thank you." She slipped past him into the living room, the Doctor right behind her.

"Not bad, very nice. Very well kept." The Doctor nodded appreciatively, looking around the place before turning to Tommy's mother. "I'd like to congratulate you, Mrs...?"

"Connolly," she supplied, smiling politely.

"Now then, Rita," Mr Connolly chastised as he joined them. "I can handle this. This gentleman's a proper representative. Don't mind the wife, she rattles on a bit."

The Doctor raised a cutting eyebrow. "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?"

Mr Connolly blinked, then picked up steam again. "There we are, Rita, I told you so. Get them up. Queen and Country."

"I'm sorry," Rita murmured apologetically, but the Doctor held a hand up gently, his jaw set as he watched her husband blather on.

"Get it done, do it now."

"Hold on a minute," the Doctor interrupted.

"Like the gentleman says."

"Hold on a minute." Mr Connolly stopped talking. "You've got hands, Mr Connolly. Two big hands. So why is that your wife's job?"

"Well, it's housework, innit?"

"And that's a woman's job?"

"Of course it is."

The Doctor sighed, unimpressed. "Mr Connolly, what gender is the Queen?"

"She's a female."

"And are you suggesting the Queen does the housework?"

Mr Connolly's eyes widened. "No, not at all."

"Then get busy," the Doctor ordered.

"Right," Mr Connolly said hesitantly, before snapping into action. "Yes, sir. You'll be proud of us, sir. We'll have Union Jacks left, right and centre."

Alex narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me, Mr Connolly. Union Jacks?"

"Er... yes, that's right, isn't it?" He didn't seem so certain anymore.

"That's the Union Flag," she told him sternly. "It's the Union Jack only when it's flown at sea." On the other side of the room, Tommy smirked.

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, I do apologise," he simpered.

"Well, don't get it wrong again, there's a good man. Now get to it!" She turned to the Doctor with a barely concealed smile.

"Right then!" he said, the pair of them sitting down on the sofa. "Nice and comfy, at her Majesty's leisure." He glanced across at her, grinning. "Union Flag?"

She smiled politely at Tommy and Rita, patting the seats next to her. "Mum went out with a sailor," she replied in her mind, flashing him a grin.

"Oh, I bet she did." He gave the mental equivalent of a snort, then smiled up at Tommy. "Anyway, I'm the Doctor and this is McKenzie, and you are...?"

"Tommy," the boy replied.

"Well, sit yourself down, Tommy." The Doctor pulled him in to sit between him and Alex on the sofa. "Have a look at this. I love telly, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think it's brilliant," Tommy agreed.

The Doctor glanced over his shoulder. "Keep working, Mr C!" Then he leaned closer to Rita, softening his voice. "Now, why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

She sighed. "Did you say you were a doctor?"

"Yes, I am."

She sniffled. "Can you help her? Oh, please, can you help her, Doctor?"

"Now then, Rita," Mr Connolly began. "I don't think the gentleman needs to know."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Oh, the gentleman does."

"Tell us what's wrong and we can help," Alex offered. Rita burst into tears, and she hurried to comfort her. "Hey, it's alright. Come here. It's okay."

Mr Connolly looked down at the flags in his hand and began to splutter. "Hold on a minute! Queen and country's one thing, but this is my house! What the—!" He threw the bunting down, causing three winces on the other side of the room. "What the hell am I doing? Now, you listen here, Doctor! You may have fancy qualifications, but what goes on under my roof is my business."

"A lot of people are being bundled into—"

"I am talking!" Mr Connolly thundered.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes, rising to his feet to tower over the man. "And I'm not listening! Now, you, Mr Connolly, you are staring into a deep dark pit of trouble if you don't let me help. So I'm ordering you—sir—tell me what's going on!"

In the resounding silence, something thumped on the ceiling three times. When Mr Connolly spoke, his voice was small and scared. "She won't stop. She never stops."

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

"Show me," the Doctor ordered.

***

Upstairs, Tommy's grandmother's room was bathed in darkness. "Gran?" Tommy called hesitantly. "It's Tommy. It's alright, Gran. I've brought help."

The Doctor flicked the light on, and both he and Alex stared. The woman's face had just... gone. There was no sign of injury or attack, but her eyes, nose and mouth were gone. The front of her head was just a blank canvas of skin.

"Her face is completely gone," the Doctor realised, sonicing her. "Scarcely an electrical impulse left. Almost complete neural shutdown. She's ticking over. It's like her brain has been wiped clean."

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

Before he could reply, the front door crashed in. "We've got company!" Alex said unnecessarily as they heard heavy booted feet on the stairs.

"It's them!" Rita cried, her eyes wide. "They've come for her!"

"Quickly!" the Doctor exclaimed. "What was she doing before this happened? Where was she? Tell me! Quickly, think!"

"I-I can't think!" Tommy stammered. "She doesn't leave the house! She was just—!"

The two burly policeman burst in, and the Doctor stood in their way, raising a finger. "Hold on a minute. There are three important, brilliant, and complicated reasons why you should listen to me. One—oof!" He hit the floor, unconscious, and the men shoved past him to grab Tommy's gran.

"Doctor!" Alex exclaimed, tapping his face gently. "Doctor, come on!"

He sat up suddenly, shaking his head to clear it. "Ah, hell of a right hook. Have to watch out for that." Then he was on his feet, charging after the policemen. Alex followed, but stopped in the hallway when she noticed red energy lancing out from the back of the TV set in the living room. "Kez, come on!"

She walked closer, turning the TV set to see where the energy was coming from. "Go ahead, I'll catch up. I think I've found something here."

"What if I go too fast for you?" he teased, gunning the engine and giving chase.

She smiled to herself. "As if." As he drove out of range, she checked the maker's label on the back of the TV. Magpie Electricals.

"You!" Mr Connolly thundered, outraged to see her poking around with his telly. "Get the hell out of my house!"

"I'm going, I'm done." She rolled her eyes as she got to her feet, trying not to let on that he scared her. "Lovely to meet you Tommy, and you, Rita." Her expression went stony. "And as for you, Mr Connolly. "Only an idiot hangs the Union Flag upside down. Shame on you."

He took a deep breath, as if about to start shouting again, and she slipped past him, leaving the house. Next stop: Magpie Electricals.

***

"Start from the beginning," Detective Inspector Bishop ordered, glaring across the table at the Doctor, who didn't look very intimidated at all. "Tell me everything you know."

The Doctor blinked. "Well... for starters... I know you can't wrap your hand around your elbow and make your fingers meet." He watched, amused, as the sergeant attempted to do just that, fruitlessly.

The Inspector sighed. "Don't get clever with me. You were there today at Florizel Street and now breaking into this establishment. Now, you're connected with this, make no mistake."

"Well, the thing is, Detective Inspector Bishop—"

"How do you know my name?" Bishop demanded, startled.

"Er..." The Doctor hesitated. "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?"

"I'm doing everything in my power!" Bishop protested.

"All you're doing is grabbing those faceless people and hiding them as fast as you can," the Doctor countered. He nodded knowingly. "Don't tell me—orders from above, hmm? Coronation Day. The eyes of the world are on London Town, so any sort of problem just gets swept out of sight."

Bishop winced. "The nation has an image to maintain."

"But doesn't it drive you mad, doing nothing?" the Doctor asked, brow creasing. "Don't you want to get out there and investigate?"

"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." Bishop sighed, sitting down. "Twenty years on the force, I don't even know where to start. We haven't the faintest clue what's going on."

"Well, that could change," the Doctor offered.

Bishop blinked. "How?"

The Doctor stood, leaned on the desk, and arched an eyebrow at DI Bishop. "Start from the beginning. Tell me everything you know."

***

Ten minutes later, they were coming to the end of what little evidence they had gathered. "We just started finding them about a month ago," Bishop was saying. "Persons left sans visage. Heads just blank."

The Doctor frowned. "Is there any sort of pattern?"

Bishop nodded, running his finger around a circle on the map. "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," they both said together.

"Found another one, sir," the sergeant reported, escorting a person with a blanket over her head into the room.

"Oh, good man, Crabtree," Bishop said. "Here we are, Doctor. Take a good look. See what you can deduce."

The Doctor turned, his eyes widening. Crabtree removed the blanket, and his worst fears were confirmed because there was that pretty blue dress, the copper hair so carefully pinned into place, the figure that he'd recognise anywhere. "Kez..."

Bishop blinked. "You know her?"

"Know her?" The Doctor was almost speechless, his hand raised to cup what should have been her cheek. "She's..." But there was no word adequate to describe her. They had been through so much that it seemed almost wrong to call her his girlfriend—the word was too small to describe someone he... Someone he loved. Because it was true, he realised that now. It was love. Not some fleeting crush, not an infatuation or an affair or a fling but true and terrible love. The kind that could rise above the highest mountains or fall into the deepest abyss. He'd die for her without a second thought, and worse, far worse, he'd kill for her. The realisation startled him, but he knew without a doubt that it was genuine. The same way she had destroyed half a million Daleks for him, he knew he would commit genocide to keep her safe. Even though it would contradict everything he had always lived by, he'd do it. This idea of the Doctor, this man he had crafted himself into, he would abandon it all in a second. He'd let go and live by her instead.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised the policemen were talking about what had been done to her. "They did what?"

"I''m sorry?" Bishop asked.

"They left her where?" He never once took his eyes off Alex.

"Just in the street," Crabtree replied.

The Doctor set his jaw. "In the street. They left her in the street. They took her face and just chucked her out and left her in the street! And as a result, that makes things very simple. Very, very simple. Do you know why?"

The two policemen shared a look. "No."

"Because now, Detective Inspector Bishop, now there is no power on this Earth that can stop me. Come on!"

***

The Doctor rang the Connollys' doorbell as soon as he was close enough, practically bouncing on his toes with the adrenaline. Detective Inspector Bishop was only a few paces behind as Tommy answered the door. "Tommy, talk to me," the Doctor ordered. "I need to know exactly what happened inside your house."

"What the blazes do you think you're doing?!" Mr Connolly seethed, pulling the door to behind him.

"I want to help, Dad," Tommy protested.

"Mr Connolly—"

"Shut your face, you... whoever you are," Mr Connolly snapped. "We can handle this ourselves." He turned to his son. "Listen, you little twerp. You're hardly out of the bloomin' cradle so I don't expect you to understand. But I've got a position to maintain. People around here respect me. It matters what people think."

Tommy glared, for once not shrinking under his father's gaze. "Is that why you did it, Dad?"

Mr Connolly blinked. "What do you mean? Did what?"

"You ratted on Gran," Tommy accused. "How else would the police know where to look, unless some coward told them—!"

"How dare you?!" Mr Connolly spluttered. "Do you think I fought a war just so a mouthy scum like you could call me a coward?"

"You don't get it, do you?" Tommy shot back. "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."

In the resounding silence that followed, the door swung open, revealing a shocked Rita. "Eddie, is that true?"

Eddie Connolly's jaw dropped guiltily, and suddenly, he was just a man. "I did it for us, Rita. She was filthy. A filthy, disgusting thing!"

"She's my mother," Rita said, her eyes wide. "All the others you informed on, all the people in our street, our friends..."

"I had to, I..." Eddie stammered. "I did the right thing."

Rita shook her head. "The right thing for us, or for you, Eddie?" She sighed. "You go, Tommy. Go with the Doctor and do some good. Get away from this house, it's poison." She shot a tear-filled glare at her husband. "We had a ruddy monster under this roof, alright, but it weren't my mother!" She slammed the door shut in Eddie's face, and he hung his head in shame.

Tommy joined the Doctor and Detective Inspector Bishop, following them down the street. "Tommy, tell me about that night," the Doctor requested. "The night she changed."

"She was just watching telly," Tommy remembered, shrugging.

The Doctor's eyes widened, looking around from roof to roof. "Oh, Kez said it! She guessed it straight away! Of course she did. All these aerials in one little street. How come?"

"Bloke up the road, Mr Magpie," Tommy said. "He's selling them cheap."

Bishop raised an eyebrow. "Is he now?"

The Doctor headed for the shop. "Come on!" He broke the window, reaching through to unlock the door.

"Here, you can't do that," Bishop protested, but the Doctor wasn't listening.

"Shop!" He banged on the countertop, making a racket. "If you're here, come out and talk to me! Magpie!"

"Maybe he's out," Tommy suggested, seeing the back room was in darkness.

"Looks like it," the Doctor agreed. He vaulted over the counter to search the drawers, finding a portable TV in one of them. "Oh, hello! This isn't right. This is very much not right." He licked the side of it, much to the others' disgust, and cringed at the metallic tang. "Tastes like iron. Bakelite. Put together with human hands, yes, but the design itself... Oh, beautiful work. That is so simple."

"That's incredible," Bishop marvelled. "It's like a television, but portable. A portable television."

The Doctor soniced the TV, then followed the signal round towards the rest of the televisions stacked up against the walls. "It's not the only power source in this room." As he drew closer, the screens lit up, each showing a different face terrified and alone. Even Alex's face was full of fear, her lips trembling as she called his name. Watching, all he could hear was silence. "I'm on my way," he promised, reaching up to touch her face on the screen.

"What do you think you're doing?" Magpie demanded, stood in the doorway to the back of the shop.

"I want her restored, and I think that's beyond a little backstreet electrician, so tell me, who's really in charge here?" the Doctor demanded.

"Yoohoo!" a female voice called from the central TV. "I think that must be me. Ooh, this one's smart as paint."

Bishop stared in horror. "Is she talking to us?"

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, I'm afraid you've brought this on yourselves. May I introduce you to my new friend," Magpie sighed.

"Jolly nice to meet you," the woman on the screen stated pleasantly.

"Oh my God, it's her, that woman off the telly," Bishop realised.

"No, it's just using her image," the Doctor corrected.

"What... What are you?" Tommy stammered.

The woman on the TV smiled hauntingly. "I'm the Wire, and I will gobble you up, pretty boy. Every last morsel. And when I have feasted, I shall regain the corporeal body which my fellow kind denied me."

The screen shifted from black and white to full Technicolour.

"Good Lord!" Bishop cried. "Colour television!"

"So your own people tried to stop you?" the Doctor mused.

"They executed me," the Wire replied. "But I escaped in this form and fled across the stars."

"And now you're trapped in the television," the Doctor stated frankly.

"Not for much longer," the Wire smiled daintily.

Tommy bit his lip. "Doctor, is this what got my Gran?"

"Yes, Tommy," he answered, glaring at the screen. "It feeds off the electrical activity of the brain, but it gorges itself like a great overfed pig, taking people's faces, their essences. It stuffs itself."

"And you let her do it, Magpie," Detective Inspector Bishop accused.

"I had to," Magpie protested. "She allowed me my face. She's promised to release me at the time of manifestation."

"What does that mean?" Tommy asked.

"The appointed time," the Wire smiled. "My crowning glory."

"Doctor, the coronation!" Bishop realised.

The Doctor nodded grimly. "For the first time in history, millions gathered around a television set. 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." He held up the portable television.

"What a clever thing you are!" the Wire praised. "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."

Red energy lanced out from the screen and latched onto each of their faces, causing them to scream in pain.

"Hungry! Hungry! The Wire is hungry! Ah, this one is tasty. Oh, I'll have lashings of him! Delicious!" the Wire cheered, before the Doctor managed to slip the sonic screwdriver out of his jacket. "Ah! Armed! He's armed and clever. Withdraw! Withdraw!" The energy vanished, and the three men collapsed unconscious on the floor.

***

Five minutes later, the Doctor woke with a start. He glanced over at the other two, seeing that Bishop's face was gone, but Tommy was just unconscious. He shook the boy's leg to wake him up. "Tommy, wake up. Tommy, come on!"

"What happened?" the boy wondered, blinking hard.

"Where's Magpie?" the Doctor muttered, stumbling to his feet. Both of them managed to get outside, looking around.

"We don't even know where to start looking. It's too late," Tommy sighed, defeated.

"Oi, it's never too late, as a wise person once said. Kylie, I think," the Doctor frowned distractedly. He blinked. "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—" He stopped, distracted again. "Where are we?"

"Muswell Hill," Tommy replied promptly.

"Muswell Hill." The Doctor's eyes lit up in realisation after a second. "Muswell Hill! Which means Alexandra Palace, biggest TV transmitter in North London. Oh, that's why it chose this place. Tommy?"

"What are you going to do?"

"We're going shopping!" the Doctor exclaimed.

***

Tommy found a valve... thing... in one of the drawers in Magpie's shop. "Is that what you want?"

"Perfect! Right, I need one more thing." The Doctor grinned, handing the pile of components to Tommy before running out of the shop. Tommy followed and nearly ran right into the Time Lord as he sprinted back down the street, clutching a long piece of what looked like electrical cable. "Got it. Let's go." The pair ran off again, hastily building a contraption the Doctor said would trap the Wire, rendering it powerless.

"There!" Tommy shouted as they reached Alexandra Palace, pointing up at Mr Magpie, who was climbing the transmission mast.

"Come on!" The Doctor and Tommy ran past a guard, who began shouting at them before the Doctor showed his psychic paper.

"Oh! I'm very sorry, sir. Shouldn't you be at the Coronation?" the guard inquired apologetically.

"They're saving me a seat," the Time Lord lied over his shoulder.

"Who did he think you were?" Tommy asked, not confusedly. At this point, he was just going to accept whatever came, however nuts it sounded.

"King of Belgium, apparently," the Doctor replied.

***

"Right, keep this switched on," the Doctor commanded as he plugged the contraption into a wall socket. Tommy nodded. "Don't let anyone stop you, Tommy. Everything depends on it. All those lives. Detective Inspector Bishop. Kez. Your nan. Everything depends on it. You understand?" Tommy nodded again, and the Doctor smiled as he grabbed a coil of copper wire that was attached at one end to the contraption, before running out of the control room.

***

The Doctor was unreeling the copper wire as he ran, heading for the transmitter, barely registering the guard yelling after him about getting himself killed. As soon as he reached the tall structure, he began to climb. Magpie was there as he neared the top.

"It's too late!" he cried. "It's too late for all of us!"

"I shall consume you, Doctor," the Wire stated, speaking from the portable television Magpie had hooked up to the transmitter.

"I won't let you do this, Magpie!" the Doctor shouted, struggling to climb with the wind and the height. Alex wasn't the only one uncomfortable at the top of a cliff.

"Help me, Doctor," Magpie pleaded, clutching at his forehead one-handedly. "It burns. It took my face, my soul."

"You cannot stop the Wire," came that annoyingly calm voice again. "Soon, I shall become manifest."

"No more of this!" Magpie begged. "You promised me peace!"

The Wire smiled. "And peace you shall have." A branch of bright red energy blasted Magpie into atoms.

"Been burning the candle at both ends?" the Doctor taunted as he reached the Wire's level. "You've overextended yourself, Mrs. You shouldn't have gone for my girl." He grinned threateningly as the Wire shot out energy blasts towards him, but he managed to get a hold of the portable television without being electrocuted as the energy hit him. "Rubber soles! Swear by them!" he announced cheerfully. The Doctor plugged the end of the copper wiring into the portable television—

—But nothing happened.

"Oh, dear," the Wire smiled cruelly. "Has our little plan gone horribly wrong, Doctor?"

Much to the Doctor's relief, the red energy all retreated back into the portable television after a minute or two, releasing everyone who had been taken.

"No!" the Wire cried, before her screen went to static.

"It's close down, I'm afraid, and no epilogue," the Doctor quipped, before making his way down to the ground.

***

Alex, with her face fully restored, was leaning against a wall, watching Tommy and his gran embrace, when she felt a hand slip into hers. The Doctor. "Boy, am I glad to see you," she sighed.

***

Later, they'd joined the street party as the nation came outdoors to celebrate the Queen's coronation. "We could go down the Mall, join in with the crowds," Alex suggested.

"Nah, that's just pomp and circumstance," the Doctor told her. "This is history right here."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "The domestic approach?"

He grinned. "Exactly."

"What about that Wire thing, though?" she asked. "Is it trapped for good?"

"Hope so." He shrugged. "Just to be on the safe side, though, I'll use my unrivalled knowledge of transtemporal extirpation methods to neutralise the residual electronic pattern."

Alex hesitated for a minute, translating. "Oh, you're gonna tape over it."

"Yep!" He popped the 'p'.

She laughed. "Oh, leave that to Rose. She's always doing that." They stopped at one of the tables, where Tommy was pouring himself a glass of orange squash.

"Tell you what, Tommy, you can have the scooter," the Doctor told him. "Little present. Best, er... keep it in the garage for a few years, eh?"

Tommy didn't reply, watching as Eddie left the house in an overcoat, carrying a suitcase. "Good riddance."

The Doctor followed his gaze, raising an eyebrow. "Is that it, then, Tommy? New monarch, new age, new world. No room for a man like Eddie Connelly."

"That's right," Tommy agreed bitterly. "He deserves it."

Alex bit her lip, hesitating. "Tommy, go after him."

Tommy looked across at her in surprise. "What for?"

"He's your dad," she pointed out, shrugging.

"He's an idiot," Tommy scoffed.

Alex smiled. "'Course he is. But you're clever. Clever enough to save the world, so don't stop there."

"But after all he's done..." Tommy sighed.

"I know." Alex shrugged. "I think he was scared and selfish and I think your mum will probably never forgive him and good for her, nor would I. But if he can change... I'd hate for you to never find out what having a good dad feels like."

"Is he really worth it?" Tommy asked.

"I haven't the slightest," Alex admitted. "But you are. Go on."

After a moment's hesitation, Tommy headed over to his father and took his suitcase, escorting him down the road. The Doctor handed Alex a glass of orange, and together, they drank a toast.