As the Doctor galloped about, he suddenly realised something.
Clara was looking at him, concerned.
"Firstly," she said, "while it's nice to see you back to normal, why are you behaving in such a peculiar way? Secondly, if your mind is back in your head, does that mean Peter is at the mercy of that chicken creature?"
"Am I not giving Peter a ride on my back?"
The Doctor looked up. Peter seemed to have a wispy, insubstantial way about him.
Sort of like a ghost.
Meanwhile, the Scorchies approached the young Peter. Of course, he hadn't heard any Big Finish plays, and just thought these were some friendly animal creatures - and in the realm of Omega, anything remotedly friendly was a bonus. He smiled, and held out his hands to them.
A TARDIS is designed to be piloted by several people; not just one Time Lord single-handed, with one hand. So, perhaps almost inevitably, it spun out of control, and instead of arriving in Omega's realm, materialised - where else? - but B
"I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy I need somebody to heal Somebody to know Somebody to have Somebody to hold It's easy to say But it's never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain"
Peter started screaming. "This is awful, I don't want anything to do with you!"
The Scorchies were a bit offended, especially a little plastic duck called Lewis, who had long dreamed of stealing a human body and becoming a pop star.
"Maybe he'll like *my* song better," suggested a sort of hairy tomato-shaped creature - perhaps a talking cushion or some such. "Oh, she played the fiddle in an Irish band / But she fell in love with an English-"
The song was cut off, as Ed the tomato was dragged away by a pair of Gell Guards.
"What are you Sea Devils doing here?" the Doctor demanded. "Frightening everybody. They don't know you exist!"
"We heard that it was all right now," protested one Sea Devil, holding up a sodden newspaper with the headline "ICS to replace UNIT, General Lethbridge-Stewart says 'We Share World with Lizard-Men'".
The Doctor snatched it out of the Sea Devil's hands; it fell to bits in his. "'The Times', 9th December 2004'," he was able to make out. "Sorry, that's not a fixed point in time, it's all been erased."
"Oh dear," said the spokesdevil. "We were hoping to go to the theatre. Umokal has gone ahead to buy tickets."
"Right, let's find your friend and put you all back in the sea to sleep for another thousand years," the Doctor snapped, setting off.
"Don't we get any say in the matter?"
They soon arrived at the Theatre Royal. The Doctor examined some posters outside. "'Iris Wildthyme in - Pandamonium!' Sounds good!"
"Nah, mate," interjected a man who had a roll of paper under one arm, a ladder slung over the other, and was carrying a bucket of paste and a brush. He proceeded to put up a new poster, saying, "that closed last week."
The new poster declared that the theatre was now playing host to "Henry Gordon Jago III and His All-Scorchie Review!"
"Henry Gordon Jago the third?" asked the Doctor excitedly. "Not the grandson of my old friend the London theatrical impresario and infernal investigator?"
"How the bleedin' heck should I know that?" asked the workman. "I just works 'ere."
"Out of my way," the Doctor demanded, pushing past. "I need to get it."
The workman watched amazed as the Doctor was followed by a young woman, a second young woman made out of water, and several fish monsters. He fell to his knees and began to scream.
Meanwhile poor little puppet Peter was waiting in a cage the other scorchies had placed him in. A single sequin tear ran down his felt cheek. Would the Doctor and Clara ever come back for him? Would he ever get to become a real boy again and go back home to Glasgow?
Meanwhile 12, Clara, and the Sea Devils were about ready to sit down for the show when 12’s mobile rung again.
It was Eve.
“Hi Dad” Eve said shakily.
“Hi Rainbow is everything okay?” 12 said concerned
“I don’t feel so good Dad.” Eve said panicking.
“Oh no” thought 12. That’s right the chameleon arch would be wearing off on his and Clara’s children as well. He and Clara weren’t ordinary humans after all, which meant neither where their two children.
“Listen this is very important Eve, have you talked to your brother about this?” 12 said urgently to Eve as several other audience members glared at him.
"Right," said the Doctor decisevly. "Get him, and that Margaret friend of yours, and go and sit in the gazebo at the bottom of the garden. Send your boyfriend round the shops or something. Your mother and I will be there in a second."
Eve's voice was cut off as the Doctor flipped the phone shut and sat back in his seat, his arms folded behind his head. "Remind me... I've got to bury an anti-weird stuff machine in our garden."
Clara was horrified. "Anything could be happening to our children, and you're just going to watch the show?"
"Anything could be happening to our children seventeen years in the future," the Doctor corrected her. "When did I put in that gazebo?"
"You didn't," Clara said icily. "You decided you could pay for it by busking, and *I* put it up in 2009."
"Well, there you are," replied the Doctor. "Eve's perfectly safe for the next five years. Now, let's just sit here quietly, yes?"
"Too bloody right!" yelled somebody else in the theatre.
"My apologies," cried the Doctor, standing up, "my wife gets a bit hysterical some times. I do my best to calm her down, but-"
"Sit down and shut up!"
Clara dragged the Doctor back into his seat. She glared at him, and tried not to catch Bill's eye.
The Sea Devils thought it all very odd. In underwater theatres one is quiet and sits still.
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