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dollgxtz · 1 month ago

Text

Shattered Birdcage

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: Sylus loses control due to the Frenzy Enhancer and you don't find the activater in time...causing him to become sexually aggressive and desperate to claim you for himself :3

Tags: praedator!Sylus x fem!reader, predator x prey, noncon, intense choking, rough sex, forced orgasm, degradation, biting, blood, injury, cunnilingus, creampie, threats, mentions of breeding, nicknames like little bird, near death experience (no one actually dies don't worry!!), fluffy ending to soften the blow :33

Taglist: @magpie-the-goblin-girl @sxremmie @lem-hhn @silverbrain @sizzlingtigerkitten @msslytherin00 @letharue @yu-irene @poptrim @monster-effer @ditsynddotsy @size0forhollywood @its-regretti @queenofstresss @reiheis @valentinared

AN: Hiii guys!! Are we enjoying the new banner? I AM! This is literally a dream come true for me. So I decided to write a fic based on it with a little twist hehe. Please heed the warnings guys, this is a very intense fic and I tagged it accordingly. This is legitmately straight up noncon, not cnc. If you asked for a tag and weren't tagged its cause I couldn't find your age on your profile anywhere, sorry! Enjoy!

You exhale slowly, fingers brushing over the edges of the movie tickets still tucked in your pocket before letting them go. The paper crinkles softly, a fragile reminder of something almost normal. But it doesn’t belong to you anymore. Maybe it never did.

Then, the world shatters.

The fire alarm shrills, a piercing, agonizing wail that erupts through the hospital like a banshee’s scream. Panic spreads instantly, as sudden and violent as a tidal wave crashing over an unprepared shore.

The chaos begins.

Screams.

Heavy, frantic footsteps thunder down the halls. The sterile walls of the hospital, once cold and quiet, now tremble with the desperate energy of fear. The mechanical beep of heart monitors, the faint hum of fluorescent lights—all of it drowns beneath the raw, unfiltered sound of survival.

Somewhere outside your room, a woman’s voice splinters the air.

"Fire! Help!"

Her cry is swallowed by the deafening roar of the alarm, by the clatter of overturned medical carts, by the stampede of bodies flooding the halls. A shadow streaks past the glass window of your door, her silhouette vanishing into the growing plumes of smoke curling along the ceiling.

Then—movement behind you. You turn, locking eyes with Sylus. He doesn’t flinch.

He leans casually against the wall, utterly unbothered by the pandemonium unraveling around you. Smoke licks at the edges of his leather top, but he remains still, red eyes gleaming with something sharp, knowing, entertained. The ghost of a smirk plays at his lips.

"They’re right on schedule," he murmurs, his voice smooth, unaffected, like this is nothing more than a carefully executed performance.

He extends his hand toward you, as if inviting you into a dance.

Your pulse kicks up, but you don’t hesitate. You take his hand.

His fingers curl around yours—strong, steady, warm despite the growing heat. With a single pull, you propel yourself forward, slipping past the threshold of the hospital room and into the chaos beyond.

Smoke greets you first, thick and curling, its acrid tendrils slithering into your lungs like a living thing. The air is already changing—heat warping it, bending it, making it heavier. The moment you inhale, your throat burns. You clamp your sleeve over your mouth, but the effort is futile. The stench of burning plastic and antiseptic chemicals invades your senses, clawing at your eyes, your nose, your lungs.

Outside, the scene is worse.

Patients in hospital gowns stumble through the smoke, their movements disjointed, frantic. Some clutch at IV stands like lifelines, others trip over their own feet, disoriented by the blaring alarms and the thick, suffocating haze.

Doctors and nurses shout over the chaos, their voices lost in the hurricane of fear. Someone grabs your arm—a patient, her face streaked with sweat and panic, begging for help—but you pull away. You don’t have time.

You aren’t here to run.

You and Sylus move against the current, pushing past the flood of bodies surging toward the exits. The sheer force of them is overwhelming, a sea of desperation crashing around you, dragging you under. A body collides with yours their fingers tangling in your sleeve—but you break free, heart hammering as you surge toward the stairwell.

"We’ll lead them to the rooftop!" you yell, the words raw in your throat.

Sylus doesn’t answer, but he’s right beside you, his presence like a gravitational pull you can’t escape.

The stairwell looms ahead, doors thrown open as black smoke pours inside, bleeding into the emergency lights like a living shadow. The second you reach it, you don’t hesitate.

You take the stairs two, three at a time, Sylus still close behind you.

The heat is worse here. It rises from below, clawing at your legs, your back, the nape of your neck. Your breath comes in ragged bursts, your lungs searing, aching, screaming for fresh air. Each step feels like an eternity, each turn of the stairwell winding tighter, suffocating.

But you don’t stop.

Then—light.

A final shove against the rooftop doors, and you break through.

The moment you stumble outside, the temperature drops violently.

The cold slaps you across the face, stealing the breath from your lungs, shocking your overheated body into momentary stillness. The wind howls, slicing through the thick sweat on your skin, tangling through your hair, but it does nothing to mute the screams below.

And these screams are different.

Not panicked. Not desperate.

Dying.

A sickening weight drops into your stomach. Sylus steps up beside you, his stance tense, rigid, watchful. He doesn’t need to say it. You already know.

Ever’s assassins are here.

Your skin prickles as you scan the rooftop, the smoke too thick, the night too quiet. You can feel it in your bones—something is waiting.

Then—a shadow moves.

Then another.

Then—

Gunfire.

The first shot splits the air like a knife through silk.

You react instinctively, twisting your body out of the way as the bullet slams into the concrete near your foot, sending a sharp spray of dust and shattered stone into the air.

Another shot.

Sylus shoves you sideways, his movements lightning-fast, the force of it throwing you just out of the bullet’s path. Another impact—a bullet embedding itself into the rooftop behind where you had been standing only seconds before.

A crack split the air, followed by another. Sparks erupted as bullets ricocheted off metal pipes and rooftop vents, spraying embers into the night. Instinct kicked in before thought—you dropped low, rolling to the side just as a round zipped past your ear, embedding itself in the wall behind you.

Sylus moved with effortless precision, dodging fire as if it were choreographed. His jacket billowed as he twisted, reaching for his blade. A flash of steel. A wet gurgle. One assassin crumpled before he even realized he was dead.

You pivoted on your heel, raising your own weapon. A pull of the trigger—a sharp crack through the air. The man before you barely had time to react before the bullet found its mark. His body jerked violently, blood misting into the wind before he collapsed.

Another shot. Another fall.

They kept coming.

More shadows emerged from the darkness, gunfire tearing through the night in an unrelenting onslaught. You both wove through them like ghosts, striking fast, striking first. Your heart pounded as you ducked beneath a swing, countering with a sharp jab to the ribs, twisting your opponent’s wrist until his own weapon turned against him. A single shot. A final breath.

Sylus barely broke a sweat, his movements fluid, brutal, decisive. He drove his blade into one assassin’s chest, twisting just enough to make it agonizing. The man gasped, a short, choked sound before Sylus wrenched the blade free and let him drop.

"Pathetic," he muttered, stepping over the body without a second glance.

More gunfire. More bodies dropping.

Silence.

The last assassin twitched once, then stilled, his fingers curling in the pool of blood spreading beneath him. The night was thick with the scent of gunpowder, metal, and death.

And then—sirens.

A chorus of wailing alarms grew louder in the distance, flashing red and blue bleeding into the night sky.

The battlefield of bodies lay still, the chaos settled into an eerie quiet. The stench of gunpowder and iron filled your lungs, coating your throat with the acrid tang of death. The last spent cartridges hit the concrete, rolling in slow, uneven circles before finally resting among the carnage. Smoke lingered in the cold night air, twisting in delicate tendrils around the lifeless figures strewn across the rooftop.

You pushed out a slow breath, feeling the adrenaline still burning in your veins. Your fingers flexed around the grip of your weapon before you finally holstered it. The police would be here soon, their sirens growing louder in the distance, but they weren’t your concern. These bodies—the nameless, faceless pawns of Ever—would be cleaned up. Their presence erased. Their deaths categorized as classified in some sealed document, buried beneath bureaucratic nonsense.

"Sylus, we're clear! Let's move!" your voice came out sharper than you intended, urgency overtaking you.

He didn’t respond right away.

He was standing unnervingly still, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with something unreadable. His expression was neutral, but there was an intensity in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, a glint of something dark that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. His movements were slow as he wiped away the smear of blood on his cheek, his fingers leaving faint streaks of red against his skin. The way he stood—too relaxed, too quiet—set off alarm bells in your mind, though you couldn’t yet pinpoint why.

Something in his expression made your gut clench. His usual amused arrogance was absent, replaced with something darker. His pupils were slightly blown, the faintest edge of something feral lurking in his gaze. The air around him felt charged, electric. Wrong.

Then a sound.

A wet, strangled cough.

You both turned.

The last assassin—one you had assumed was already dead—was still moving. Barely. He lay twisted on the ground, one arm stretched toward you, his fingers twitching, curled like claws. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath rattling, wet, his lungs failing him.

But his lips—coated in blood—were curled into a grotesque smile.

"Even though..." he wheezed, a broken chuckle rattling out from somewhere deep in his ruined throat. "We can't kill you or him..." He spat a thick glob of blood onto the ground, his grin stretching wider, his yellowed teeth bared like a rabid dog. "Both of you...can rot in hell!"

His fingers twitched, curling weakly around something small, something you hadn’t noticed before. Then, in one sharp motion, his fist clenched, and a sudden crack rang out. Glass shattered, the sharp snap almost lost in the cool air, but the moment you heard it, your stomach dropped. A dark, viscous liquid seeped between his fingers, mingling with the blood pooling on the rooftop floor.

Then you caught the scent.

It was faint at first, nearly masked by the coppery stench of death, but the moment it hit the back of your throat, your entire body locked up in realization. The chemical tang was sharp, bitter, something that curled into your lungs like acid. It was distinct. Familiar.

Your body reacted before your brain fully processed the danger.

"No—!"

Your pulse thundered in your skull.

The Frenzy Enhancer.

A biochemical compound designed for one thing: triggering an uncontrollable transformation in Praedators. The LCBI had confiscated hundreds of these vials from underground labs, tearing them away from illegal deals before they could be sold to the highest bidder. But no matter how much of it was taken off the streets, more always surfaced. It was unpredictable. Uncontrollable.

It worked fast—too fast.

You turned, heart pounding in your chest. Sylus had gone rigid, his muscles locking as though every nerve in his body had seized up at once. His breathing was deep, too deep, pulling in the scent like his body was craving it against his will. His head tilted slightly, nostrils flaring, a shudder running through him from head to toe.

A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest, barely human.

Your blood turned to ice.

His pupils dilated until the irises nearly vanished, red pools swallowing the color in his gaze. His lips parted slightly, sharp, elongated canines catching the dim rooftop lights. He was salivating. A slick sheen of moisture gathered along his lower lip, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself together.

But he was losing the battle.

The Frenzy Enhancer wasn’t just a stimulant—it was a detonator. It bypassed control, restraint, morality. It didn’t just enhance what he was—it unchained it.

And right now, it was unraveling him.

"Sylus," you said carefully, your voice firm but measured. He twitched at the sound of his name, his head snapping toward you with a sharp, unnatural movement. His muscles trembled as if barely keeping himself together, but his gaze was locked onto you now—not as a comrade.

As prey.

You had seen this before as an Enforcer, watched it unfold in others who had been exposed to the drug. The Frenzy Enhancer didn’t just bring out what they were—it unchained them. It severed the link between logic and instinct, driving them into a state of raw, uncontrolled bloodlust. But this wasn’t just any Praedator—it was Sylus. He was already dangerously close to the edge even on a normal day, always teetering between control and destruction. Now, with the drug coursing through his system, you weren't sure how much time you had before he lost himself completely.

You had to move.

Reaching forward, you grabbed his arm, fingers locking tight around his wrist. His skin was hot, too hot. His entire body was trembling with need, his breath shuddering against his clenched teeth. The growl rumbling in his chest vibrated beneath your palm, every muscle in his arm wound taut like a spring waiting to snap.

"Come on," you gritted out, pulling him forward with force. He resisted, his stance firm, as though something inside him was battling whether to follow or attack. Your pulse thrummed in your throat.

Then he staggered.

It was slight, barely a misstep, but you used it. Yanking him forward, you dragged him across the rooftop, forcing his unsteady body toward the stairwell. His breath hitched in a ragged snarl, his movements twitchy, erratic, but he followed.

For now.

Each step was a battle. He stumbled against you, his balance skewed, his instincts fighting him at every turn. By the time you both reached the underground corridors of NightStrix HQ, his breathing had become ragged, his body burning up from the inside out. His restraint was slipping fast.

You shoved open the heavy steel door, dragging him inside. Deep within the base, hidden away from the rest of the world, the reinforced cage ready to hold the beast that was about to be unleashed.

Sylus grunted against you, his breath coming in hot, ragged bursts as you dragged you both into the containment cage. His body was burning up, his muscles twitching violently under your grip, every fiber of him trembling with the overwhelming need to break free. Each second that passed was a countdown to catastrophe. The Frenzy was about to take full hold, and if you didn’t restrain him now, you might not get another chance.

You fumbled with the heavy iron chains, fingers slick with sweat as you worked to loop one around his thrashing limbs. The muzzle. You needed to get the muzzle on first. Your heart pounded as you grabbed it from the steel hooks on the wall, forcing it over his mouth while he snarled, his body lurching violently against you.

"Sylus, stop—!"

He thrashed hard, nearly knocking you to the floor. His strength was unnatural, monstrous, and it was only getting worse. With a final shove, you managed to secure the muzzle around his face, locking the metal straps tightly at the back of his head. But before you could reach for the second chain, he bucked with terrifying force, sending you stumbling backward. You barely had time to clasp the restraint around one of his legs before you were forced to scramble out of the cage.

The second you slammed the heavy door shut, he lunged.

The impact rattled through the metal bars as his shoulder slammed into them, the force sending vibrations into the floor beneath you. You jumped, heart hammering in your ribs, your breath coming too fast. He slid down slightly, panting, his chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven gasps.

Then, without warning, he laughed.

A dark, guttural chuckle, low and mocking, twisted through the air like poison. His pupils were blown slightly wide now, black swallowing the color of his irises as he tilted his head toward you. Even through the muzzle, his teeth gleamed, sharp and lethal.

"Won’t you help me?" he rasped, his voice thick with something twisted—half-growl, half-seduction.

You froze.

He was still partially unrestrained. That single remaining chain wasn’t enough—if the Frenzy fully took hold, he could snap it in seconds. If you waited too long, he would be too far gone.

You had to finish restraining him now.

Swallowing the tight lump in your throat, you slowly stepped forward into the cage. Your pulse roared in your ears, your body screaming at you to run, but you forced your limbs to obey. You kept your eyes on him, watching every twitch of his muscles, every flicker of movement. You knelt, reaching for the second chain, moving with deliberate slowness so you wouldn’t startle him.

"I’m not going to watch you turn into a monster, but I—"

You never got to finish.

Sylus lunged.

A blur of motion—heat, strength, raw power.

You barely had time to react before white-hot pain exploded in your neck.

A strangled scream tore from your throat as his teeth sank into your flesh, piercing deep, his jaws locking down like a predator making its first kill. Agony shot through your nerves, the sharp burn of torn skin flooding your senses. Your vision whited out for a second, pain so intense it nearly stole your breath.

Then instinct took over.

You snarled, swinging your fist up hard, your knuckles cracking against his cheekbone with enough force to send his head snapping sideways. The impact jarred his teeth free, a sharp burst of pain ripping through you as he tore away from your skin. Blood dripped from the wound, warm and wet, seeping between your fingers as you clutched your neck in blind panic.

For a moment, all you could do was breathe through the pain.

The air was thick with the scent of your own blood, sharp and metallic, mixing with the sweat and heat that clung to you both. Your hands trembled as you pulled them away from the wound, your fingers smeared crimson. The realization sent a sickening chill through you.

He had bitten you.

Not just attacked. Bitten.

Your gaze shot back up to him.

Sylus was licking his lips.

He ran his tongue slowly over the blood staining his mouth, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second as though savoring it. Then his pupils snapped back open, razor-sharp hunger gleaming in them.

"You taste delicious." His voice was thick, dripping with need, his words slurred with the edges of something inhuman. His breath came in heavy, fevered bursts, chest rising and falling as his restraint frayed further.

A shudder ran through his body, muscles twitching beneath his skin. His fingers flexed, nails digging into the concrete floor as his entire frame shook with the need to consume more.

"Come...just a little more..." he purred, voice dropping to something low and lethal.

Then he lunged again.

You dodge just in time, barely avoiding the brutal force of his lunge. The heat of his breath scorches the space between you as he snarls, his entire body moving like a coiled beast just barely restrained by human skin. The instant he gets too close, you strike—your fist colliding with his cheekbone in a sharp, jarring impact that sends a jolt of pain radiating up your arm. The force of the hit knocks his head to the side, his body twisting under the sudden blow, but even as he stumbles, something in your gut tells you it isn’t enough.

Your heart pounds wildly, your breath coming in uneven gasps as you prepare yourself for whatever comes next. But Sylus doesn’t fall. He doesn’t even cry out. Instead, he slowly turns back to face you, a sluggish, almost lazy motion, as if he’s savoring the sting of your hit. And then—he smiles.

“Oh…I like when my prey puts up a fight,” he purrs, his voice slithering through the air like something alive. His eyes gleam with raw, unhinged hunger, pupils swallowing what little color remains. The way he tilts his head, the way his lips curl over the metal of his muzzle—it sends a sickening chill down your spine.

The Frenzy has him now. Completely.

You swallow hard, trying to suppress the shudder threatening to wrack your frame. Every inch of your body is screaming at you to run, but you plant your feet firm against the cold concrete, refusing to let fear consume you. If you let him see weakness, if you let him smell it, you’ll lose control of the situation entirely.

"Sylus! Stop it!" you shout, willing your voice to be strong. "Please, I know you're in there somewhere! I just need to—"

He lunges again.

The movement is blindingly fast. One second he's still and the next, he’s twisting, lunging toward you with a violent, predatory force. You barely manage to throw yourself to the side, feeling the rush of displaced air as he snaps at the space where your throat had just been. You seize the opening, grabbing hold of the second restraint with trembling hands and slamming it onto his other wrist. The sharp clank of metal follows as his chains yank him back, keeping him from reaching you—but only barely.

Your pulse slams against your ribs. If you don’t finish this now, he will get free.

His body writhes violently in front of you, hot with fever, drenched in sweat, trembling with animalistic hunger. He’s caught. Fully restrained now, arms suspended in place, unable to do anything but snarl and thrash.

Your arms shake as you stumble backward, breath ragged. You barely register your own hands drifting to your neck, fingers pressing against the torn skin where his teeth had sunk in only moments ago. The wound is deep, hot, raw, but you won’t die from it. Your body is immune to a Praedator’s venom—it’s one of the only reasons you’re even still alive right now. But that doesn’t stop the sick wave of nausea that rolls through you as your fingertips come away stained with more blood.

Sylus laughs.

The sound is low, rough, and dangerously amused.

"You scared?" he murmurs, voice still ragged with the aftershocks of his transformation, his breath coming in heavy, uneven bursts. His eyes flicker over you, roaming your body from head to toe, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing every tiny tremor in your stance.

Your stomach tightens. You don’t answer.

His gaze lingers at your neck, at the place where his teeth had torn you open. His lips part slightly behind the muzzle, and his tongue flicks out, running along the bloodied edge of his mouth as if tasting the remnants of you still clinging to his skin. His chest rises and falls heavily, as if trying to restrain himself, but there’s something else lurking behind his eyes. You watch as his eyes roam up and down your body, seemingly lost in thought. He's thinking about something.

Something dark.

"Your idea of help is heartwarming," he muses as he staggers towards you a bit, his voice softer now, mocking, but no less dangerous.

You force yourself to hold his gaze, even as your breathing refuses to steady. Even as something deep in your gut tells you that Sylus isn’t as trapped as he looks.

Because despite the chains, despite the restraints keeping you apart, he’s still in control.

And he knows it.

"When you approach your prey, you must ensure your own safety first. You taught me this, Sylus."

Your voice is calm, controlled, but the pain radiating from your neck betrays the lie. Each breath you take feels like a blade dragging against raw flesh, a sharp pulse of heat throbbing beneath your skin. You try to ignore it, pushing past the discomfort, pushing past the rising tide of fear that threatens to anchor itself in your chest. There’s no time to waste. You need to find the activator—now. It’s buried somewhere in his body, a trigger designed to override the Frenzy and pull him back from the brink. If you don’t locate it soon, he’ll break free, and there will be no reining him in after that.

Sylus lets out a low scoff, but there’s no real amusement behind it. His breathing is heavy, uneven, his chest rising and falling in quick bursts as though he’s barely holding himself together. Sweat beads at his temple, strands of hair clinging to his skin, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if there’s any part of him left fighting from within, if the Sylus you know is still buried somewhere beneath all that raw, seething hunger.

"Prey?" he murmurs, rolling the word slowly across his tongue like he’s savoring the taste of it. His voice is hoarse, thick with something not quite human, something that sends an instinctual shiver down your spine.

You don’t answer. You can’t. The way he said that definitely indicated that he is not the prey here.

Instead, you move carefully, methodically, circling behind him. His arms are still suspended above his head, iron restraints locking him in place, but you know better than to let yourself feel safe. Chains mean nothing to him. They’re a hindrance at best, a mere delay in what will happen if you fail. Even now, his muscles flex, the sharp ripple of movement beneath his skin a silent warning of what he’s capable of. The heat coming off him is unnatural, feverish, almost suffocating.

You steel yourself, steadying your breath as you press your fingers lightly against his back. Your touch is slow, deliberate, barely there as you search for the small, embedded activator. It should be beneath the skin, nestled somewhere between the shifting planes of muscle. But finding it means keeping your composure, means moving carefully enough that you don’t trigger a reaction.

Your fingers glide along the ridges of his spine, trailing lower, feeling for anything out of place. Every shift of your hand feels like balancing on a razor’s edge. Sylus flinches under your touch, his body tensing hard before he exhales, a low, guttural sound vibrating through his chest. You feel it under your fingertips, the tremor of restraint, of struggle.

A bead of sweat slips down your temple. Nothing. No scar tissue, no ridge of foreign anything beneath the surface that you can find.

“It’s not here…” you murmur under your breath, your stomach twisting as unease settles deep inside you.

Sylus lets out another breath, but this time, there’s something different about it. A chuckle—slow, deliberate, curling like smoke in the thick air between you.

"Do you think I’m putty in your hands?" he asks, his voice low, teasing, laced with something dangerous.

The sound sends a flicker of unease racing up your spine. He’s getting antsy. The patience he had been holding onto—if he had any at all—is unraveling quickly. His muscles are shifting beneath his skin again, his fingers twitching, testing the strength of his restraints. You don’t need to see his face to know he’s smiling.

Your heart stutters. You need to hurry.

Just as you reach toward his ribs, he jerks violently.

A metallic snap rips through the air.

One of the restraints—one of the goddamn chains—breaks free.

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes snapping up just as Sylus rolls his newly freed wrist, fingers flexing as if he’s testing how much control he has left. Slowly, his head tilts toward you, his eyes burning like fire in the dim lighting.

The smile he gives you is chilling.

You don’t think. You react.

With a burst of adrenaline, you tackle him, shoving him hard enough that it sends you both tumbling to the ground. A low, reverberating growl rumbles through him, his chest vibrating beneath your hands as his body tenses against yours.

The struggle between you and Sylus is a mess of tangled limbs and desperation, your bodies locked in a frantic battle against the cold, unforgiving floor. Every shift of his body beneath yours is like wrestling with something barely restrained, a predator on the verge of breaking free from its chains. Heat radiates off his skin, far too intense, far too unnatural, as if his entire body is burning from the inside out. The feverish warmth seeps into your own skin, making it harder to focus, harder to breathe.

Your hands move over his chest, urgent, searching, pressing against the hard muscle beneath you in a frantic attempt to find the activator. It has to be here somewhere—it has to be. Your fingers skim the ridges of his abdomen, feeling for anything out of place, a small foreign lump beneath his skin, a sign that the override switch is still there. But the longer you search, the more panic digs its claws into your ribs.

Your wound throbs, a dull and persistent ache pulsing from your neck, sending sharp spikes of pain through your senses with every movement. The smell of blood—your blood—is thick in the air, mingling with the scent of sweat and something deeper, something primal that radiates from Sylus like a caged animal ready to tear through steel.

"Tell me—" You swallow hard, ignoring the dryness in your throat, trying to suppress the fear that’s creeping into your voice. "Is the activator here?"

Sylus doesn't answer immediately. His breath is coming heavy, uneven, his chest rising and falling in sharp, controlled bursts beneath you. Then, slowly, he grins.

The sight of it sends a ripple of unease down your spine.

"Don’t…" he growls, his voice low and guttural, slipping between clenched teeth. His body tenses beneath you, coiled muscle flexing, veins prominent beneath the sweat-slicked skin of his arms. His hands twitch rhythmically, fingers curling like claws ready to rip you to shreds.

"Don’t press it."

You ignore him.

You have to.

You shift, dragging your hands lower, pressing over his ribs, smoothing your fingers down the hard planes of his stomach, searching for any change in texture, any break in the muscle that could indicate the activator. Your fingertips glide over his skin, past the deep ridges of his abdomen, dipping lower—

A sharp, ragged exhale.

Sylus’s entire body jerks beneath you, his spine arching suddenly, pressing into you before falling back against the ground. His breath stutters, his hands clenching into fists as a sound rumbles deep in his chest—low, guttural, something between a moan and a growl.

Your movements falter for the briefest second.

Did you find it? Did you hurt him?

Your heart pounds violently against your ribs. Your hands remain pressed against him, frozen mid-motion, fingers still splayed across the hard muscle of his lower abdomen. You can feel the way his body shudders, tense and coiled, every fiber of him locked in place, the warmth of his skin searing against your palms.

You don’t know if the reaction is pain or something else, and the uncertainty sends unease coiling in your stomach.

Sylus exhales another uneven breath, his chest vibrating beneath you. His head tilts slightly, red eyes flickering open, dilated again and dark, and he looks straight at you. Not through you, not past you—at you.

The grin he gives you is slow, deliberate.

"That-," he murmurs, voice edged with something dark, something lustful. His lips curl at the corners, his teeth flashing between parted lips as his gaze flickers lower, trailing over the places where your hands are still pressed against him. "That feels...good".

Your breath caught in your throat as the realization hit you like a freight train barreling down the tracks. Your eyes widened as you lowered your head and took in the unmistakable bulge of his erection, straining against the confines of his pants, a tangible proof of the pleasure you were unwittingly providing.

This isn’t pain.

The second he senses your moment of shock, Sylus strikes.

With terrifying ease, he yanks you upward, your feet leaving the ground for a brief, weightless second before he drives you downward. The world tilts violently, your stomach dropping as you’re thrown forward, your body twisting midair before—

Impact.

The breath is knocked from your lungs as you hit the cold, unforgiving floor, your stomach smacking against the hard surface with enough force to send a sharp shockwave through your ribs. Your arms instinctively splay out, palms slamming against the ground to steady yourself, but the weight that follows keeps you from moving.

Sylus presses down against you, his entire body covering yours, his hands locking around your wrists before pinning them flat against the floor beside your head. His hips press firmly into yours, locking you in place, trapping you beneath him.

Panic seizes your chest.

You try to twist away, to jerk free, but his weight is unmovable, pressing down hard enough that every shift only grinds you further against the floor. The heat of his body seeps into your back, feverish and all-consuming, the ridges of his toned chest molding against your spine.

You thrash, breath coming hard and fast, struggling against his grip, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t budge. Doesn’t even react—except for the slow, deep inhale that shudders through his chest.

Then, he breathes against your skin.

"You smell like fear," he murmurs, voice low and silken, curling around your ear like smoke.

Your entire body locks up.

His lips are too close.

The warmth of his breath ghosts along the side of your face, his nose grazing the edge of your jaw before dipping lower, hovering over the sensitive skin of your throat. Your pulse races, hammering so violently beneath your skin that you know he feels it.

His grip tightens.

"And something...sweet," he muses, dragging the words out slowly, tasting them like something decadent.

Your struggles escalate, knowing exactly where this is going.

"Sylus! Stop! No!"

Your fingers claw against the floor, legs kicking, desperate to throw him off, but Sylus doesn’t move an inch. If anything, his hold only grows firmer, heavier, more absolute. The pressure of his body against yours makes it impossible to move, to breathe properly, to think.

Then—he lowers his head.

The brush of his lips against your ear is featherlight, teasing. A sharp contrast to the overwhelming, inescapable strength of his grip.

And then—his teeth sink in.

A sharp, precise nip to the outer shell of your ear, quick and fleeting, followed immediately by the slow, deliberate glide of his tongue. He slides all the way down to your neck, lapping up the still dripping blood from your wound. He alternates between licking and nipping, as if feeding himself and claiming you all at once.

You flinch violently, a shudder ripping through your limbs as heat explodes beneath your skin. Your breath catches, fingers digging into the cold floor as a rush of pure, primal panic flares through your nerves.

Sylus hums. A deep, satisfied sound.

"Something very sweet," he repeats, his voice edged with amusement, hunger, something else entirely. His fingers flex against your wrists, nails pressing into your skin—not enough to break, but enough to remind you of the power imbalance.

"Makes me want to devour you whole."

A violent shiver wracks through you, your entire body locking up in terror.

Move. Move. MOVE.

Desperation surges through you like wildfire. You snap your leg back, aiming a blind, vicious kick toward his leg, his thigh—anything that will make him falter, make him let go—

But he’s faster.

Before you can even make contact, he moves. His weight shifts, his grip flexes, and suddenly—you’re being crushed, pressed even harder into the ground.

Your breath chokes in your throat as his body presses flush against yours, one of his hands releasing your wrist only to grip your hip, pinning you down even harder. His fingers dig in, securing his hold, ensuring you have nowhere to go.

"Nice try," he murmurs, voice dipping into something thick and sultry, rich with amusement. The warmth of his breath trails lower, sweeping along the side of your bloodied throat, down to the nape of your neck.

A slow, wicked grin spreads across his lips, and you feel it—feel his smirk against your skin, feel the way he’s drinking in every panicked breath, every tremor, every racing heartbeat.

"You should know better," he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing growl. "Prey that struggles only makes the hunt more exciting."

His fingers flex against your hip, nails pressing in just enough to send a sharp, prickling sting through your nerves.

"Why resist me now? You made your choice when you stepped inside," Sylus taunts, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest. Tears prick at your eyes, threatening to spill over as the harsh sound of ripping fabric echoes ominously in the confined space. Your skirt! You cry out, trying to lunge forward, to escape, but his grip is relentless, fingers suddenly tightening around your throat with a firm command.

"Stop. Moving." His growl is a sharp command in your ear, his weight pressing down on you, pinning you to the ground with an unyielding force. The air is forced from your lungs in a rush as he yanks the remnants of your skirt away, tossing it aside carelessly. The room's cool air brushes against the exposed skin of your legs, and you shiver, fear and vulnerability intertwining as you plead with him.

"Sylus...this isn't you. Please—" Your words are abruptly silenced as he tears your underwear away, his actions speaking louder than any words could. The chill against your bare skin draws a sob from your lips, a desperate sound swallowed by the room's oppressive silence.

He's going to take you right here on the cage floor. Claim you. And there's nothing you can do. This isn't Sylus you know anymore.

"My my...this was what you were hiding underneath that skirt?" he growls, a feral edge to his voice. He leans forward, trailing his tongue along your back, the sensation a disconcerting mix of heat and cold that leaves you trembling beneath him.

"Please...snap out of it! Don't do this...!" you scream, your voice raw and desperate as you squirm helplessly beneath him. Your pleas are met with a soft, almost soothing "Shhh..." as if he's trying to calm you, but the sharp sound of his zipper coming undone is a jarring counterpoint, a grim reminder that he's too far gone.

This is it, you think, swallowed by a tide of helplessness. It could be worse...right? A gasp escapes your lips as you feel something large, hot and throbbing press against the middle of your ass. Sylus moans, a deep, primal sound that reverberates through you, sending shockwaves of dread and involuntary ache coursing through your veins. He spits, the wet warmth landing on your skin, slicking the path as he rubs his cock between your cheeks, each movement deliberate and unhurried.

"You looked divine in that uniform when we met again," he murmurs, his voice a silken thread of temptation and threat. "Would it be awful of me to say that I've been wanting to tear you apart with my cock ever since I saw you again?" His words are accompanied by a deep chuckle, a sound that seems to vibrate through your bones.

You squeeze your eyes shut, fighting against the warm, wet sensation that overwhelms your senses. No...this isn't the real him, you remind yourself, clinging to the hope that somewhere beneath the Frenzy Enhancer's influence, the true Sylus still exists. He's still in there, right? The question echoes in your mind, a desperate mantra as you hold onto the sliver of hope that the man you know will resurface, that this nightmare will end.

The moment of hope you had was shattered in an instant as you felt a sharp, piercing pain between your folds as he grips the skin of your ass, a large intrusion attempting to force its way inside you. You screamed, your voice raw with agony, as you tried to pry his hands away, your nails digging into his skin. "It hurts! Stop, please!" you begged, your pleas desperate and frantic.

Sylus grunted and moaned, his body a contradiction of pleasure and annoyance as he struggled to push his cock deeper into your tight folds, his tip breaching your entrance only to retreat, the pain searing and hot. "Hmm..." he growled, his voice a mix of frustration and desire.

You shook, your body trembling from the pain, your lower half throbbing, the intrusion gone but the ache still spreading. Suddenly, your hips were gripped and your lower half was raised up, your ass raised in the air, your hands bracing against the floor, your body now positioned for his taking.

"You just need a little...preparation," Sylus whispered, his voice low and dark, belying the wicked intent behind his words. Before you could protest, his hot tongue was sliding down your cunt, his skilled mouth working to prepare you, his touch both electrifying and unwittingly arousing, a wicked precision that left you trembling, your body betraying your mind's resistance.

"Mghn! S-stop...please, Sylus!" you pleaded, your voice hoarse and desperate, your fingers clawing at the floor as you tried to escape the pleasure-pain he was inflicting. But his death grip on your hips was unyielding, holding you firmly in place, his tongue a relentless force, licking and slurping at your folds with primal hunger. Like a beast that hadn't eaten in weeks.

If he doesn't stop soon you'll definitely-

"Those cute noises you make drive me wild" Sylus growled, his voice a low, guttural sound. You can't see his face, but you can feel his eyes roaming up and down your now soaked cunt, no doubt wishing he was deep inside you right now. "Reminds me of the sound a rabbit makes just before its eaten."

You gasp and shiver at the depraved sentence that leaves his mouth before something wet and long enters your hole, making you cry out. Sylus's tongue, hot and insistent, buried itself deep within you, his mouth working in a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through your core.

Sylus's grunts and moans escalated into a primal chorus as he delved deeper into your folds, his tongue a relentless force, his hands digging into your hips with increasing urgency. Your body was a tempest of sensations—pain, pleasure, and ecstasy—a melting pot of conflicting desires. You tried to hold on, to keep yourself from succumbing, but your body had a mind of its own, and you went limp, surrendering to the pleasure he was delivering.

"Mghn!" you cried out, your body shaking, your hands gripping the floor as you fought against the overwhelming pleasure. "Don't cum... don't cum..." you pleaded, your voice hoarse, your lips bitten to stifle the moans that threatened to escape.

But Sylus found that sweet spot, that spongy part inside you, and twisted his tongue, sending you over the edge. You bit down harder on your lip, trying to muffle the sounds of your climax, but it was no use. The pleasure was too much, and you came undone, your body shaking, your cries echoing in the cold cage as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Sylus lapped up your essence, his tongue working feverishly, his grunts and moans a testament to his own pleasure as he reveled in the taste of your orgasm, his primal satisfaction evident as he continued to lap up your juices like a thirsty dog.

"This taste..." Sylus groaned, his voice thick with greed, as he brushed his tongue against your inner thigh, catching the drippings of your pleasure, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. You gasped for breath, your body still trembling from the orgasm, your mind racing for a way out of this predicament.

"Your scent has filled the room now...its driving me mad. I can't wait any longer".

Your thoughts turned to the activator, the key to your freedom. You needed to get turned around, to find it somehow. "Sylus, w-we should—" you started, but your words were cut off by the sudden, sharp intrusion of his cock slamming into your cunt with a force that sent shockwaves of pain and pleasure through your body.

"Agh!"

The initial penetration was rough, but easier than before, his cock sliding into your wet hole, stretching you, before he pulled back slightly and sheathed himself completely inside you, his grip on your waist tightening as he began to thrust, his hips pistoning in a relentless rhythm.

"Ahh...it hurts..." you whimpered, your body writhing in his grip, trying to escape the pain of his thrusts. But Sylus chuckled, his voice dark and amused. "Keep squirming, little bird. It only makes it feel better."

His words were a taunt as he continued to plunge into you, his cock pistoning in and out, his body a cage of pain, his grip on your waist unyielding, his thrusts relentless, driving you to the brink of ecstasy and agony, your cries and moans filling the cold cage with a symphony of raw, primal sex.

You begin to try and dissociate from everything by focusing on the concrete floor, but Sylus primal grunts and growls as he slams into you, using your body for his own pleasure, makes it hard to escape reality. Think! Just think! You've been in worse situations before, what can you do to get turned around?

A lightbulb goes off inside your head. Its risky, but at this rate...

"F-for a Praedator...I honestly expected this to be much better. A little disappointing after waiting all these years Sylus" you spat, trying to sound more confident than you truly felt. Sylus momentarily slows his thrusting, not completely stopping but definitely enough to ponder your words. You shiver as you hear a deep chuckle.

"Is that so?"

Your entire world flips around as he grabs you, spins you around and pushes you roughly against the concrete floor. Before you can continue speaking, his hand slams into your throat, squeezing slightly. Not enough for serious harm, but its a clear warning.

Sylus's gaze is dark, beastly and terrifying as he leans down to your face, as if trying to look deep into the depths of your soul. Your heart aches as you recall your last encounter with him earlier that day, when he gave you the movie tickets. He had looked so soft...unlike the beast that was in front of you now.

"I can give you rougher, if that's what you crave," Sylus purred, his voice laced with dark humor, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "I quite like you in this position, that look of fear in your eyes turns me on" He began to laugh, a low, menacing sound, as he pushed his still-hard cock back into your aching hole, his hand never leaving your throat.

Sylus's other hand, strong and sure, reached out, tearing your top with effortless ease, the fabric ripping as he exposed your breasts to his hungry gaze. Your nipples hardened in response to the sudden exposure, the cool air on your sensitive skin a stark contrast to the heat of the moment.

Your breasts bounced with each powerful movement of his hips, the motion causing a mix of pain and fear, your body a canvas of sensations, your mind struggling to process the whirlwind of physical reactions.

You whimpered as pain, pleasure, and fear mingled within you. His hand squeezed harder with each thrust, cutting off your air supply, and you clawed at his fingers, desperate for breath, your nails digging into his skin.

"C-can't...breathe..." you gasped, your voice hoarse, your heart hammering in your chest, sensations blurring together. Despite your struggles, your body began to respond to his relentless thrusts, your muscles squeezing around his cock, a reaction you couldn't control.

"Oh, you like this, don't you?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Gonna cum while you can't breathe, little bird? I could've given you this pleasure sooner if I'd known. I'd have gladly delivered your demise, one way or another."

His words sent a shiver through you as your body betrayed your mind's resistance, succumbing to the pleasure he was inflicting, your climax building despite the pain and the fear, a testament to the twisted game he was playing with your body and mind.

Were you truly going to die this way? After everything, after fighting for so long to see him again? This is how things end between the two of you? You look into his eyes. His rabid, feral eyes and feel tears begin to prick them. You look past him, your eyes resting at the revolver still strapped to your leg.

You still have one more option.

"I-it won't be me succumbing to my d-demise" you choke out, staring into his eyes. He doesn't stop thrusting into your body, but his eyebrow does raise. "Even if you make it out of here, what do you think they'll do with you when they realize the only immune person is also pregnant with a Praedator's baby?"

Your eyes widen at his words, your brain barely processing their meaning as your vision begins to blur. No! No! You begin to thrash as the sounds of his evil laughter fills your ears, and his thrusts pick up relentless speed.

"D-don't cum in me! Please!" you choke out, your voice hoarse and gravely as your forced to continue take the relentless pounding of Sylus's cock. He's ignoring you, he doesn't care. He only has one goal now. You feel your lower half begin to ache and pulse, evident that you just orgasmed beneath him. But you barely register it, as your top half begins to hurt.

Your lungs burn as if set ablaze, the oxygen in your body dwindling, your chest seizing with every desperate attempt to inhale. A thick, suffocating haze fills your head, making your thoughts sluggish, disjointed, slipping between the cracks of fading consciousness. Your body betrays you, limbs losing strength, muscles growing weak as an unbearable heaviness creeps into every inch of your skin. Your fingers, once clawing at the iron grip around your throat, are failing you now, slipping away, no longer able to fight against the pressure stealing your air.

A dull ringing overtakes your ears, growing louder, drowning out the world around you. Your vision narrows, dark spots creeping into the edges, threatening to swallow everything whole. A strange lightheadedness overtakes you, a weightless, dizzying sensation that makes it hard to remember where you are, what you’re doing. Your body is shutting down, giving up, preparing to surrender to the void clawing at the edges of your mind.

No. No, no, no. It can’t end like this.

A spike of panic jolts through your fading awareness, but your body refuses to listen, sinking deeper into helplessness. You strain, forcing your head up just enough to look at him, to plead, to beg, but the words won’t come. Your throat is locked, crushed beneath his grip, and no matter how much you try, no sound escapes past your lips. Sylus barely seems aware of you now, his expression dazed, half-lidded, his breath uneven as he lingers on the edge of his own orgasm. His fingers twitch slightly, tightening then loosening, but he isn’t paying attention, isn’t thinking, isn't entirely here. He’s too close to the edge, too lost in wanting to finish inside you.

That’s when you see it.

A flicker of red, faint but undeniable, flashes in one of his eyes. It’s barely noticeable, a fleeting pulse of color in the red of his irises, but it’s there. Your slowing mind struggles to process it, to make sense of what it means, until the realization slams into you like a shock of ice water.

The activator?!

Adrenaline floods your veins, shoving back the creeping darkness threatening to pull you under. The sheer, primal will to live surges through you like a lightning strike, reigniting every dying nerve, forcing your limbs to respond even as they scream in protest. With the last of your strength, you move.

Your fingers twitch, barely managing to form a fist. Gritting your teeth, you summon every ounce of energy left in your failing body, pull your arm back, and slam your thumb directly into his eye.

A guttural, animalistic roar rips from Sylus’s throat as his grip on your neck vanishes, his entire body jerking back in raw, instinctive pain. The instant pressure is released, air floods your lungs, rushing in so fast that your entire chest seizes from the force of it. A sharp, shrill gasp tears from your throat as you suck in a desperate, wheezing breath, the burning relief almost as unbearable as the suffocation had been.

Your vision, once clouded and swimming, sharpens in an instant, the murky haze lifting as the world snaps back into terrifying clarity. Every nerve is raw, every muscle trembling, but you’re alive. You can breathe.

Sylus's eyes widened for a moment, a brief flicker of surprise as all the Frenzy enhancer seemed to leave his body, and then, just as quickly, the feral intensity left his gaze, his face softening. But it was too late for his body to catch up, as his hips froze mid-thrust, his cock twitching inside you, releasing a hot flood of cum against your womb.

You gasped, your body trembling from the unexpected climax, the sensation of his release filling you, an intense mixture of warmth and fullness.

Sylus’s eyes met yours, the fire in them flickering unsteadily as the weight of what just happened crashed over him. The frenzied hunger that had gripped him moments ago had drained away, leaving behind something raw—horror, confusion, and something close to regret. His breath came fast and uneven, chest rising and falling as he struggled to process what he had just done to you.

His lips parted slightly, but no words came at first. His red eyes, now normal, darted across your face, lingering on the deep red imprints, blood, and bruises his fingers and teeth had left on your throat. His grip, once unrelenting, had been torn away, but you still felt it there—the phantom sensation of his hands crushing the air from your lungs.

“Are you…” He swallowed hard, voice hoarse, like it physically pained him to speak. “Are you okay?”

You coughed, your throat burning, the rush of oxygen still too sharp, too overwhelming. But you managed to nod, your limbs still weak, your entire body trembling from the shock. You could feel the marks he had left, the lingering ache that pulsed in time with your heartbeat, but you were alive.

Sylus was still staring at you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes now—guilt, realization, something heavy and unspoken pressing down on him. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he should.

“Why didn’t you press it sooner?” His voice was quieter now, filled with something vulnerable, almost desperate. “The activator… you could have stopped me before—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head, frustration with himself evident in the tightness of his jaw. “Before I did this to you.”

The look on his face—haunted, shaken—was so unlike him, so different from the Sylus you knew, that something in your chest ached. He wasn’t just horrified by what had happened. He was horrified by himself.

You forced a small, reassuring smile, even though your throat still ached, even though your entire body was still reeling from the ordeal. “Because I couldn't find it. But I knew you were still in there,” you whispered, voice raspy but steady. “And I was right.”

Sylus let out a slow, uneven breath, his gaze locked on you like he was trying to convince himself you were telling the truth. Then, without another word, he moved.

Before you could react, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, the warmth of his body pressing against yours in a way that was nothing like before. This wasn’t dominance or power. This was desperation. He was still inside you, but neither of you cared to address it at this moment.

His grip was strong, but careful this time. His hands, which had moments ago been your greatest threat, now held you like you were something fragile, something breakable. His fingers curled against the back of your head, as if grounding himself, as if he needed to feel that you were real, that you were still here.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your hair, voice rough, low, and laced with something unspoken. “I wasn’t…I couldn’t—” He exhaled, tightening his hold. “I didn’t want our first time to be like this.”

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sink into the embrace. Tears of relief slipped from the corners of your eyes and dripped to the concrete floor. Your hands gripped the leather of his top, grounding yourself in him, in the fact that he was back now. His heartbeat, still fast, thrummed against your own, and for a moment, neither of you moved, neither of you spoke. The silence was thick, but not empty.

“It’s okay,” you whispered finally, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “You’re back now.”

And then you kissed him.

It was slow at first, hesitant, but the second your lips met his, Sylus shattered.

His grip on you tightened even more, arms pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back like he had been waiting for this, like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. There was nothing controlled about it—it was desperate, messy, full of every unspoken thing he couldn’t bring himself to say over the years. His fingers slid up your back, then tangled into your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, to claim more of you, to drown in you.

You could feel his pulse beneath your fingertips, still racing, still alive. You weren’t sure who was shaking more—you or him—but neither of you pulled away. Neither of you wanted to.

When you finally parted, both of you were breathless, your foreheads still pressed together. His lips hovered just over yours, his hands still holding you like he couldn’t bring himself to let go yet.

It was all going to be okay.

For the first time since this nightmare had begun, Sylus let himself believe it.

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legends-of-time · 10 months ago

Text

Thorn Bush (Doctor Who Story)

Chapter 44: Idiot's Lantern

Masterlist

New York, 1951 AD/CE

Kathy tries to blink the sleep away as she looks around the room in confusion, trying to work out where the beeping is coming from. A small groan of annoyance comes from her side and she looks down to see five-year-old Anthony Pond still snuggled up next to her as well as a book open on her lap.

Oh yes, she remembers now. Rory and Amy had wanted a night out with just the two of them as Kathy's in New York visiting so Kathy's babysitting their son for them. Anthony had insisted it was childish to be read a bedtime story in bed so Kathy had offered the compromise of sitting on the settee instead.

She gently eases herself away from the boy, placing him horizontally on the settee while she investigates the noise. It's a call coming through on her scanner. The machine's still going and is multi-purpose now, especially with the help of River dropping off different parts so that Kathy can update it and provide maintenance.

"Hello?"

"Kathy?" It's Vastra. She lets out a quiet sob and Kathy knows what this is, she's been waiting for it. Jenny's not been well for a while and getting older to do it must be— "She's gone."

Kathy's hearts shatter at her words. Of the original Paternoster Gang, Jenny, Kathy and Vastra were the only ones left after Stax's passing and now it's only Kathy and Vastra and while the Silurian has a longer life span than humans, she too will one day go.

Kathy looks over her shoulder to see little Anthony sleeping still. To think that he will be gone from her life in a flash too. At least with his parents, after they're gone, she'll still see younger versions of them but for how long will that be? The same with all the other companions of the Doctor.

The Doctor was right. Immortality isn't living forever, it's everyone else dying.

——

London, 1953 AD/CE

Rose Tyler in her pink poodle skirt and Jean jacket thanks the woman with the pushchair and heads back down the road she had just come up. Thank god it is the beginning of summer, and not raining otherwise she'd be soaked by now.

She and the Doctor were heading for 1950s New York but instead ended up in London. It wasn't long before they realised something was going wrong but in the midst of it all, he'd run off, taking the moped to give chase to the police car from the Connolly's house before she could stop him. Rose was left behind in the Connolly house with the panicking Tommy and Rita on the grandmother's kidnapping. While Eddie seemed rather pleased and relieved by the police finally taking the Gran away.

She'd decided to do her own investigation after she spotted a weird sort of red electricity coming out of the telly in the Connolly's lounge and going up the Ariel before disappearing. She couldn't help but wonder if the company that provided, Magpie's Electrics, has something to do with taking people's faces. Rose thinks both Kathy and the Doctor would be rather proud of her for doing her own deducing.

Rose turns the corner and sees the sign for the television shop she was heading for when a voice speaks up behind her, "'Magpie's Electricals'."

Rose spins round to see Kathy who's dressed in a dark red skirt, similar to Rose's, but with black polka dots on it. Her shirt is also dark red with short sleeves with a string of pearls and matching earrings and her hair is curled and put up in an elegant bun with a black, netted, hat on top of her head. She also has red lipstick, black high heels, black lace gloves, and black stockings.

Her friend looks away from the shop's sign and grins at the blonde before continuing, "AKA, the man who seemed determined that everyone have one of his TV's, even if it meant taking a massive loss."

Rose beams, unfazed by her friend's sudden appearance and wealth of prior knowledge. It's just common practice now. "You would know that, wouldn't you?"

Kathy shrugs with false innocence. "Spoilers."

"Well, come on, then." Rose chirps brightly, offering out her arm for Kathy to link hers with. Instead, Kathy halts her by grabbing the girl's arm.

"Wait, Rose," Kathy says, pulling the girl back. She digs through her pockets, pulling out her sonic screwdriver, silver with metal claws and a red light on the end. She places it carefully into Rose's hands. "Take this."

"What for?" Rose asks curiously, holding up the tool in question.

"You're going to need it." Kathy stares at the shop, seemingly running through the options in her head. Weighing up the pros and cons. "Once we're inside, the door is going to be locked by Magpie. Then something will attack us."

Rose gives both the Time Lord/Human/Apalapucian next to her (she wishes there was a shorter name to describe what Kathy is) and the shop an anxious expression. "Should we wait for the Doctor, then?"

"No. There's no time. He's busy with his own problems right now." Kathy turns to Rose, staring steadily at the companion. Rose looks back wide eyed, ready to listen. "You have to listen to me. The thing inside, it's going to try to attack us both, but it's only going to get one of us. I want you to run when I tell you to. Run to the door, use the sonic to open it, and then find the Doctor. Go back to the vegetable stand where the police car vanished. Demand to see the Doctor. They'll let you in."

"What?" Rose blinks in bewilderment, frowning at the instructions. "I'm not leaving you behind to get hurt. If we're going in, we're sticking together."

"No. You're doing as I told you." Kathy grips Rose's shoulder firmly, looking stern. "You have to do this, Rose."

Rose frowned heavily at her. It's not like Kathy to be so worried about her safety, no more than usual anyway. "You alright?"

It's Kathy's turn to frown. "'Course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem off." Rose observes. "Is it the TV knowledge? What's happening?"

Kathy shakes her head. "Don't worry, it'll be alright. I just don't want you to get hurt." To worry Rose even more, Kathy grips her shoulder more tightly. "All the hints I can tell you is that you're needed for something else. You need to use my sonic for an event later."

Rose blinks slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Just remember," Kathy takes the device, holding it up to Rose's face, "this tool, when wielded well, can become your greatest weapon. Especially against electricity." She winks, handing the sonic back to Rose. "Just run when I say and use the screwdriver to unlock the door."

Kathy then spins around and walks swiftly to the front door of the shop, going inside. Rose follows closely behind. The door jiggles a bell, letting Magpie know the two females are here as it closes behind them. He seems to be working on something. A small device of sorts. But he quickly puts it away upon their wandering gazes.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry, ladies. I'm afraid you're too late." He tells them politely, though looking rather nervous and his toe sounding rather urgent. "I was just about to lock the door."

"Yeah? Well, we want to buy a telly." Rose says to him steely. She makes sure to keep close to Kathy. She is not willing to allow her friend to jump into danger like she normally dies. Rose will make sure she herself is the one hurt this time. Not Kathy.

"Come back tomorrow. Please." Magpie tells them, seeming to be jittery by having them there in the shop.

"You'll be closed, won't you?" Rose asks, looking puzzled by his words.

"What?" He questions, blinking in bewilderment as to what the girl means.

"The coronation is tomorrow." Kathy reminds him, gazing carefully at the man. "You'll be closed up along with all the other shops, yes?"

"Yes, yes, of course. The big day." Magpie replies, distracted. "I'm sure you'll find somewhere to watch it. Please go."

They both walk up together to his counter, leaning on it to stare at him.

"Seems to me half of London's got a television, since you're practically giving them away." Rose comments conversationally.

"I have my reasons." Magpie responds, looking down at the counter.

Rose narrows her eyes, suspicious.

"Not good ones, I'm afraid." Kathy notes, staring steadily at the man. She watches as he stares up anxious at her. "Magpie, she's not going to let you go if you do this. She's just using you. She'll never let the suffering stop. She'll only let it kill you in the end." He looks startled by her words. Truly frightened by the foreboding of them.

Suddenly a telly behind them can be heard giving off feedback with a high-pitched ringing and static. A female appears on screen, staring darkly at them.

"Hungry." She calls out, looking as though she were starving. "Hungry."

"What's that?" Rose asks, staring at the screen.

"It's just a television one of these modern programmes." Magpie dismisses, hurriedly going around the shop's counter and over to the door. "Now, I really do think you both should leave... right now."

"Not until you've answered our questions." Rose states firmly, turning around from the counter to face Magpie. "How come's your televisions are so cheap?"

"It's my patriotic duty." He responds, brightening. "Seems only right that as many folks as possible get to watch the coronation. We may be losing the Empire but we can still be proud. Twenty million people they reckon'll be watching. Imagine that. And twenty million people can't be wrong, eh? So why don't you get yourself back home and get up, bright and early, for the big day." He tries to wave them out, opening the door for them.

"Magpie, we all know this has nothing to do with the coronation." Kathy responds evenly, turning around to face the man as well. "You've been selling tellies for another reason entirely, and it is for no good intentions whatsoever." She then turns to the screen, glaring at the woman on the telly. "Isn't that right, Wire?"

"Oh, what a clever woman." The Wire retorts wickedly.

"Oh, my god. Is she talking to you?" Rose asks, looking alarmed at the woman on the screen actually responding to Kathy. She sees Magpie slowly locking the door and it sets her on edge even more.

"Yes, I'm talking to both of you, little one." The Wire says smartly back. "Unreasonably chilly for the time of year, don't you think?"

"What are you?" Rose asks, getting closer to the screen. Kathy holds out an arm, pushing Rose back away from the screen.

"I'm the Wire." The woman speaks from the telly. "And I am huuuungry!"

Kathy throws Rose aside before the electrical tendrils can get the girl. The electrical tendrils from the telly grab onto Kathy's head instead, pulling all her brain's mental signals and energy out of her, grabbing her face along with them.

"Run, Rose!" Kathy manages to scream before she loses her mind fully.

"Kathy!" Rose cries out in alarm from the ground where she had fallen, watching in horror at the sight of her friend's face being pulled away from her body.

"Run!" Kathy screams as more electrical tendrils start to come from the telly, searching for another food source.

Rose jumps up in alarm as the tendrils begin to weave towards her, searching. She runs to the door, pushing Magpie out of her way before the tendrils can reach her. Magpie doesn't fight at all. Merely leans against the wall and looking stricken. Rose aims the sonic at the door and manages to unlock it. She rushes outside in the cold night air, leaving her friend's screams behind her.

——

Inside an office, Detective Inspector Bishop and the Doctor stand before a map of London in the corner, criss-crossed by coloured pins and string. The Inspector’s desk is littered with pictures of the people whose faces have been stolen while the map indicates where they had been found.

The Doctor studies it carefully, wearing his glasses as the Inspector explains what's been happening.

"We started finding them about a month ago." The Inspector explains. "Persons left sans visage. Heads just... blank."

"Is there any sort of pattern?" The Doctor asks, walking over to the desk and picking up a file, a picture of a woman without a face on top of it. He flips through the paperwork but finds nothing of interest.

"Yes, spreading out from North London. All over the City. Men, women, kids, grannies. Only real lead is there's been quite a large number in—"

"Florizel Street." The Doctor interrupts, recalling the house he and Rose had been in earlier that day. He hoped Rose had headed back to the TARDIS, when he was done here he'd go find her.

The Inspector looks over at the man, surprised then there's a knock on the door.

"Excuse me, sir. There's a girl out here demanding to see the Doctor." The man tells them. "She's raving on about her friend in trouble or something."

"Let her in." The Inspector instructs.

The officer opens the door more, allowing a frantic Rose to burst into the room. Tears stream down her face and she rushes over to the Doctor, who looks at her in shock due to the state the girl is in, hugging him.

"Doctor, I'm so sorry." Rose cries.

The Doctor pulls away, gripping onto her shoulders. "What is it? What's wrong?" He asks briskly.

Another knock comes at the door. The same officer from before sticks his head into the room once more. "Found another one, sir." He declares as he leads in a figure covered in a grey blanket that hung to their knees, a red skirt peeking out underneath over black stockings and black high heels shuffling beside him.

"Oh, er, good man, Crabtree. Here we are, Doctor..." The Doctor lets go of Rose and walks over, apprehensive of the person underneath. The grandmother on Florizel Street hadn't been dangerous, but that doesn't mean that they can't become dangerous. "Take a good look. See what you can deduce."

Crabtree pulls the blanket off the person's head, revealing light brown hair the Doctor recognises instantly. His eyes widen in surprise and horror as he stares at Kathy, without a face. Of all the things he had expected, it hadn't been her.

"Kathy?" He exclaims. She stands before him, facing him with blank features. She no longer holds the light blue eyes that he's become familiar with. Everything is completely wiped clean. Only her skin is left covering the area where her features had been, with her light brown hair hanging around the blank skin.

"You know her?" The Inspector asks from behind him.

"Know her? She's..." His voice breaks off, staring at his friend in disbelief.

"I recognise her, Detective Inspector. Been snooping around and making a fuss." Crabtree says. His words sound faint, the underwater kind of sound. "They found her in the street, apparently, down by Damascus Road."

The Inspector's reply fades into the background as the Doctor moves a trembling hand towards Kathy's blank face. He gently brushes a lock of hair out of her blank face. Fury boils up within him. He grits his teeth, glaring darkly.

He glances over to Rose, sees her tear-stained cheeks and the sheer horror on her face and he knows he needs to calm down otherwise he'll begin yelling at her. Something for which she doesn't deserve. She cares for Kathy just as much as he does. He knows that.

"Are you all right?" He asks her kindly.

"Yeah." Rose answers, nodding and wiping away her tears.

"What happened?" The Doctor questions.

"We went to Magpie's to investigate." Rose explains. "She... she warned me beforehand that something was going to attack us. But I didn't think... I didn't think it would be that."

"What was it?" The Doctor asks her, feeling more urgent in finding out how to save Kathy.

"It called itself 'The Wire.' It lives inside the telly. It looked like a woman, but I'm not sure if it even was." Rose lowers her head shamefully and stares sadly at the ground. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I should have known better. She always does that. Pushing me out of the way. It should have been me. I should have—"

"No. Don't blame yourself, Rose." The Doctor insists sternly. "Kathy would never want you to get hurt. We both know that." He looks back to Kathy, fixing on one detail he'd heard the officers saying behind him earlier, discussing where they had found Kathy. But he had not caught exactly what had been said. "Where did you find her?"

"Just... in the street." The Inspector answers.

The ice-cold anger builds up again. The Doctor grits his teeth tightly. "In the street." He repeats darkly, finding those words disgusting, finding the very idea of someone doing that to Kathy infuriating. His hands tighten into fists as he gazes at the blank face of Kathy. "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... simple. Very, very simple. D'you know why?" He whips around, looking to the Detective Inspector.

"No..." The Inspector responds now looking nervous, almost scared but the Doctor doesn't find it in him to care.

"Because now, Detective Inspector Bishop, there is no power on this Earth that can stop me!" The Doctor snarls loudly. He turns, briefly squeezing Kathy's shoulder in reassurance to the woman, before walking swiftly passed her. "Come on!"

——

The Doctor marches through the early morning streets with the Inspector and Rose following behind. It is hard for them to keep up with the fast pace the Doctor is travelling. He has his long legs to give him the extra boost in hurrying through the neighbourhood. He reaches the Connolly house in no time. The Inspector and Rose come up behind him as he starts to ring the doorbell rapidly. Tommy is the one to answer this time.

"Tommy, talk to me." The Doctor says to the boy, his voice sounding so deadly earnest that it unnerves Rose slightly. "I need to know exactly what happened inside your house."

Tommy glances over his shoulder and then steps outside, closing the door behind him. But Eddie opens it back up harshly, glaring at the Doctor. "What the blazes do you think you're doing?" He growls lowly at his son.

"I want to help, dad." Tommy replies.

The Doctor stares bitterly at the man. Rose glares along with him. "Mr. Connolly." The former bites out as a warning.

Eddie steps into his face. "Shut your face, you, whoever you are." The man spits at him. "We can handle this ourselves!" Eddie turns back around to his son, getting into the boy's face now. "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 'round here respect me. It matters what people think!"

Tommy stares at the man for a moment, looking at him in question then the boy seems to realise something, his eyes lighting up when he sees the truth standing in front of him. "Is that why you did it, dad?" He asks.

Eddie moves away slightly, looking shocked by the boy's question. "What d'you mean, did what?"

"You ratted on Gran." Tommy says angrily. "How else would the police know where to look? Unless some coward told them."

"How dare you!" Eddie snarls at him, getting up into the boy's face again. "You think I fought a war just so a mouthy little scum like you could call me a coward?!"

Tommy shakes his head, narrowing his eyes. "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."

"Eddie, is that true?" Rita asks, emerging at the doorway to the scene standing outside. She stares at her husband horrified.

Eddie looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "I did it for us, Rita." He explains. "She was filthy! A filthy, disgusting thing!"

"She's my mother." Rita retorts in disbelief. "All the others... you informed on all the people in our street, our friends."

"I had to." Eddie counters, faltering. He stares around, looking at anyone as if they might defend what he did. He only receives hard stares. He looks back at Rita. "I-I did the right thing."

"The right thing for us or for you, Eddie?" Eddie looks down, shamefaced at her words. Rita turns her attention to her son. "You go, Tommy. Go with the Doctor and do some good. Get away from this house. It's poison." She glares back at her husband. "We had a ruddy monster under our roof, all right, but it weren't my mother!" Rita slams the door in Eddie's face.

"Tommy?" Rose calls gently, holding her hand out towards the boy in encouragement. He takes a last look at his father, banging on the door to get his wife to let him back inside, then takes the offered hand.

——

The foursome head down the street, going past the long tables in the streets and people running about happily, getting ready for a street party after the coronation of the Queen. Rose still holding Tommy's hand, who is staring at her as the people around them set up for the impending street party.

"Tommy tell me about that night. The night she changed." The Doctor asks, sympathetic but urgent.

"She was just watching the telly." Tommy answers.

The Doctor slows down as he spins in a circle, looking up at all the of the TV aerials on Florizel Street.

"That's what that energy came out of." Rose says. "There was this woman who talked to us, then she tried to get me, but Kathy pushed me out of the way."

"You said it." The Doctor breathes in realisation. "You guessed it straight away." He grins at her, Rose smiling widely back. "Of course you did. All these aerials in one little street. How come?"

"There's a shop up the road, Magpie. He's selling them off really cheap. She replies.

Tommy nods in agreement. "That's where we got ours from. Gran was always watching it."

"Is he now?" The Inspector remarks.

"Come on!" The Doctor cries and he races off, the others following.

——

The Doctor busts the window of the front door as soon with his elbow as they arrive at Magpie's shop. Not even bothering to use the sonic screwdriver. There are a few more things he would like to smash, but he knows he needs to keep his head level if he wants to save Kathy.

The Doctor goes up to the counter, and slams his hand repeatedly on the bell, shouting angrily for Magpie. But clearly, the man is elsewhere.

The Doctor then goes around to the back of the counter. Urgently, he rifles through drawers and papers. Instantly he found something severely wrong. Something that should not be anywhere near the era. A portable telly. Small, brown, and, after giving it a lick, he can tell it is made of iron and Bakelite. He holds it up to the light.

"Well, I know for one thing that that shouldn't be invented yet." Rose notes as the Doctor sits the device down on the counter and scans it with his sonic. "What's it doing here in 1953?"

"No idea." The Doctor mutters. His sonic starts to pulse loudly, picking up another frequency within the shop. He holds it up in the air. "It's not the only power source in this room."

Suddenly, every TV screen flickers into life. Then, images begin forming on the screen, crackling through the static. People's faces. All of them looking frightened and shouting out for help, but with no sound coming from them whatsoever. Tommy spots his Gran, looking at her face in horror.

"Doctor..." Rose gasps in horror as she stares at a screen in the bottom corner.

The Doctor walks over, crouching by the screen, gazing at her black and white face. Kathy gazes out, looking more worried than frightened. He can see her lips moving, repeating the same names over and over again. 'Doctor, Rose. Doctor, Rose.'

Tenderly, the Doctor touches his hand to the screen. "We're on our way." He whispers to the screen. Kathy simply continues to repeat the names, unknowing of his presence.

Rose kneels down to stare sadly at the screen. "I'm so sorry, Kathy." She whispers. "We'll save you. I promise."

"What do you think you're doing?"

They look over to see Magpie standing in the doorway of a back room. He looks at them in bewilderment. But he spots Rose, however, his eyes widen slightly.

The Doctor shoots up from his crouch, storming over to the man and glaring furiously at him. "I want my friend restored!" He shouts into the man's face. "And I think that's beyond a little backstreet electrician. So tell me, who is the Wire?"

"Yoo-hoo!" calls a female voice. "I think you're looking for me." The Doctor turns going over to the main centre telly to see a woman smiling wickedly back at them all. "Ohh... this one's smart as paint."

"Is she talking to us?" The Inspector asks.

"Yeah, she does that," Rose replies, backing warily away from the televisions.

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid you're brought this on yourselves." Magpie says over by the doorway, backing up as close as he can get to the wall. "May I introduce you to my new... friend."

"Jolly nice to meet you." The Wire greets pleasantly.

"Oh, my god, it's her, that woman off the telly." The Inspector says, looking alarmed by what is happening.

"No, it's just using her image." The Doctor tells him. He gazes fixedly at the woman on screen. "So, you're the Wire?"

"That is correct." The Wire speaks, giving her a wicked smile. Her image slowly blossoms into full colour. "And I will gobble you up, every last morsel. And when I have feasted, I shall regain the corporeal body, which my fellow kind denied me."

"Good Lord. Colour television!" The Inspector gasps.

"So your own people tried to stop you?" The Doctor questions.

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

"And now you're trapped in the television." The Doctor retorts.

The Wire's smile fades along with the colour, going back to black and white. "Not for much longer." She grits out.

"Doctor, is this what got my Gran?" Tommy asks.

"Yes, Tommy." The Doctor responds, his voice hard in an angry tone. "It feeds off the electrical activity of the brain, but it gorges itself, like a great overfed pig, talking people's faces, their essences. It stuffs itself."

"Oh, yes. And that lovely woman from earlier, ooh, how delicious she was. Such a mind on her. So... brimming with power." The Wire purrs wickedly, mocking. The Time Lord grits his teeth, hands tightening into fists as they shake while Rose squeezes her eyes closed to stop the tears spilling.

"But Gran never came here." Tommy argues.

"Doesn't matter. Wherever there's a TV, it can feed." The Doctor explains.

"And you let her do it, Magpie." The Inspector accuses, looking at the still cowering shop owner.

"I had to." Magpie replies pathetically. "She allowed me my face. But only if I'd serve. She's promised to release me, at the Time of Manifestation."

"What does that mean?" Tommy questions.

"The appointed time. My crowning glory!" The Wire answers slyly.

"Doctor! The Coronation!" The Inspector realises.

"Well, obviously the Coronation!" The Doctor retorts rattily. He turns to the Wire. "For the first time in history, millions gathered 'round a television set." He raises a brow at the Wire, getting closer to the screen. "But you're not strong enough yet, are you? You can't do it all from here. That's why you need this." He waves the portable television in his hand at her. "You need something more powerful. This will turn a big transmitter into a big receiver."

"What a clever thing you are." The Wire retorts sarcastically. "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."

Rose jumps back as soon as she sees the wicked smile from the Wire. The electrical tendrils miss her face by inches but it grabs onto everyone else's. The Doctor, Tommy, and the Inspector all groan in pain as their faces begin to stream towards the screen.

"Doctor!" Roses cries out in alarm as she listens to them all cry out in pain. What should she do? They are all frozen to the spot as the Wire feasts on them. She has no idea what to do! How can she save them? Then, Kathy's words float into her mind.

"Just remember. This tool, when wielded well, can become your greatest weapon. Especially against electricity."

The sonic! Of course!

Rose hurriedly pulls out Kathy's sonic from her coat pocket and jumps forward. She aims it at the Wire and lets it pulse loudly at the entity. The Wire screams in agony, immediately letting go of the Doctor, Tommy, and the Inspector. They all fall to the floor behind Rose. She stops her assault with the sonic against the Wire, opting to check up on the people who had been hurt by the electrical energy.

Rose hears Magpie rush behind her, grabbing the portable television and taking off with the Wire, who has jumped into the device. Rose wants to give chase, but she can't leave the Doctor.

She slaps the Doctor's face lightly. "Doctor, wake up. Come on! They're getting away." Rose urges.

It takes another slap, harder this time, for the Doctor to gasp and bolt upright. His eyes immediately scanning the room. "Where's Magpie?" He asks.

"He took off with the Wire in that portable telly." Rose responds.

He blinks and stares at the silver sonic still clutched in her hands complete with its red light and metal claws.

"Where did you get that?" The Doctor questions.

"Kathy gave it to me before she– well, you know," Rose explains. She stares down at the sonic, feeling a swell in her heart. "She knew this was going to happen. That's why she gave it to me. She knew I was needed here to save you." Rose beams at him. "She's amazing as ever."

"Ha! You bet she is!" The Doctor exclaims cheerfully, looking over to the screen which still has Kathy's face. She's still calling out their names, still worrying over their safety. He leans forward, giving the part of the screen where her forehead is a quick kiss before standing up. "And you are brilliant!" He kisses Rose on the forehead too. She laughs in response; simply glad to have helped the Doctor and Kathy.

They see that the Inspector had not been as lucky. The man's face is wiped away, leaving him blank. However, Tommy still has his so Rose and the Doctor quickly wake up Tommy before all three of them dash out and look frantically up and down the street.

"We don't even know where to start looking it's too late." Tommy despairs.

"It's never too late," the Doctor replies instantly, "as a wise person once said Kylie I think... But the Wire's got a big plan..." Rose can see the millions of thoughts now flashing through his mind as he rattles off new ideas while pacing, "so it'll need... yes, yes, yes, it's got to harness half the population... millions and millions of people... and where are we?"

"Muswell Hill." Tommy replies, confused as to why the Doctor doesn't know this.

"Muswell Hill?" The Doctor's eyes widened in realisation. "Muswell Hill! Which means..." He runs around Tommy, standing at the end of the street and looking out towards a large building on the horizon.

"Oh, I know this!" Rose exclaims happily. "Alexandra Palace!"

The Doctor beams at her, gesturing to the building in the distance with both hands. "Alexandra Palace." He confirms. "Biggest TV transmitter in North London! Ohh! That's why they chose this place!" He grabs Rose by the hand and pulls her back inside the shop. "Tommy?"

"What are you going to do?" Tommy asks, following them in.

"We're going shopping."

The Doctor gathers up the different electronics he needs from both Magpie's shop and the TARDIS. With all the supplies together, the group rush off to Alexandra Palace. The Doctor builds the device as Rose and Tommy run carrying it. It is difficult building on the go, but the Doctor manages.

They reach Alexandra Palace and see Magpie climbing up the main broadcasting tower. The trio speed up their pace, rushing into the building. The Doctor plugs the device into the station's systems, making sure it is functioning properly. He orders both Rose and Tommy to keep watch over it and to not let anyone stop them for anything. The Doctor then grabs a long feed of copper wiring, making sure that it is connected to the device before running out of the room with the wiring unravelling behind him as he goes.

——

Kathy gasps as her eyes shoot open. She spins on the spot, frowning at the sight of the office she is in. She feels so relieved as she reaches up, running a hand through her hair and touches her face to find a nose and mouth. Oh thank god, she's back in her body.

She sticks her head out into the hallway, seeing a man stride down it. He blinks when he sees her, he obviously recognises her but is surprised to see her.

"Hello, sorry." Kathy apologises. "I was just wondering, can you help me? I don't seem to know where I am."

——

Kathy leans up against the wall outside of the secret police house where they had been keeping the faceless people. She stares up at the golden sky. The sun is just starting to set and she lets out a relived sigh as she feels the last rays of the sun.

She hears the many people beside her rejoicing in gaining back their faces, their lives. She smiles at that. Kathy is glad they are all okay as she knows the Doctor and Rose are okay as well. She had been so worried though during her moments trapped within the Wire's system.

Kathy stares down the street when she hears Tommy running up to hug his Gran. She sees both the Doctor and Rose walking towards her. Each with the biggest smiles on their faces as they briskly walk towards her. She smiles back at them, allowing her mind to drift away from her worries and just enjoy the moment. She runs up, hugging them both in delight and laughing with them.

"Don't worry me like that!" Rose scolds her, giving her a smack on the arm.

Kathy laughs, pouting and rubbing at the spot as if it really hurt. "Sorry. But I didn't want you to get hurt, and I couldn't have you go losing your face as well." She replies.

Rose smiles softly, handing her back the sonic. "Yeah. I know that now." She says. "You really are amazing with those possibilities. You always know how to solve everything."

"Well... not everything," Kathy says quietly, thinking sadly about how lost she's felt, and will feel, when she has adventures with the Doctor in their future that she doesn't know. She shakes her head. "Anyway, how about we go enjoy that fantastic street party? I always wanted to go to one."

"Sure thing." The Doctor says brightly, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Kathy smiles at him, linking her arm with Rose's as they travel happily down the street.

——

"And then there was this bus, so I might've stolen it?" Kathy remarks conversationally as she stuffs another sandwich into her mouth.

Rose laughs. "No way! You stole a bus?!"

"I had to!" Kathy retorts once she finishes the sandwich. "The swarm was returning and I had to save everyone from choking!"

She's telling the Doctor and Rose about how she encountered the Fumifugium during 'The Great Smog' of 1952 in London while the street party is in full swing around them. Beer, sandwiches, orange squash. Kids, old people. Everyone having a whale of a time. The Doctor, Rose and Kathy are helping themselves.

Rose had spent a large portion of the journey back to Florizel Street trying to convince them to go to the Mall, where the official street party is happening, but when Kathy had declared she wanted to be at a proper street party and the Doctor retorted that this is real history, she had relented.

"A species that lived and thrived in smoke..." The Doctor muses to himself.

"I can't believe it!" Rose scoffs, laughing as she swipes up another cupcake.

"Oi!" Kathy cries but she's not offended. "It's true! Scouts honour."

"You're not a scout!" The Doctor retorts.

"And?"

Rose laughs, bending over as she does causing the Doctor and Kathy to start off as well.

The party is brilliant. People laughing and dancing all around. The best food and drinks are passed about. Kathy laughs as the Doctor keeps feeding her and Rose different sandwiches that he picked up at random and asking to decide which one is the best. Eventually, Rose decides enough is enough and responds by shoving a cake into his face, making him get covered in icing. Kathy and Rose hold onto each other as they burst with laughter at the disgruntled expression he makes with the cake all over him.

Then, as the night falls over them, and the lights people placed up overhead across the street light up, the Doctor, Rose, and Kathy enjoy dancing with everyone. Rose and Kathy have their own brief moment spinning each other around and giggling up a storm. Before the Doctor grabs Rose and they dance while Kathy has her own spin with Tommy.

Rose pulls her aside and asks, "Are you okay?"

Kathy frowns. "'Course I am. Why do you ask?"

"It's just before we went into Magpie's shop? You were a bit off." Rose explains.

Oh. Of course, she wouldn't let this go.

"Yeah, Rose. Sorry about before. I've just lost someone I've known for many decades and, well, I wanted to be able to save someone." It feels stupid now she says it out loud. Jenny's death wasn't her fault.

"Mortality's not your fault you know." The Doctor pipes up, clearly having heard the end of the conversation as he walks up to them with his glass of squash.

Kathy laughs tearfully. "I know. Just gotta get that in my head sometimes."

The Doctor nods understandingly and wraps her up in a hug. Kathy soon feels another set of arms joining them and a flash of yellow and pink out of the corner of her eye. She smiles softly and her hearts fill with love.

——

A/N:

I cut out the bit where Rose tells Tommy to go to his dad as I don't personally like the message it sends when it comes to victims and their abusers. Tommy shouldn't have to forgive his dad just because he's family.

Also, Kathy stealing a bus... 😅 and also the chapter with the longest time not from Kathy's perspective.

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

#doctor who

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