Review Replies:
Storytelling-Doll: I can't wait for Amy! I love Amy so much, and she is a flirt. Poor Mr. Pond will have his hands full with those two when they meet. I'm glad you like how Isla and 10 are with each other! I feel like he's quick to get close to her because she's a familiar face.
Wolf and Leopard: The flirtation dancing is the best dancing. Wait no more, her interactions with the Bard start here! The Doctor's reaction may not be as expected, however. Isla's interaction with the Judoon was maybe one of my favorite things in that chapter, if I'm honest.
Bumblebee1013: You're right. Nobody will survive. I predict a lot of winking and a lot of cheeky grins.
NeoMulder: I'm glad you liked it, I was cautious to switch it up, but it seemed like a pretty unique way to end it.
LadyErised: I know your pain, friendo, the same thing happens to me. I'm glad you like Isla. I'm sorry there wasn't much Rose in the story, but as I've said before, I don't like Rose all that much.
deathb4beauty: Huh. I wonder why nobody got the notification for chapter 9. It's strange. I too love that Isla flirts with everyone, and the general consensus is that everyone is excited for her to meet Jack.
Brookie Twiling: I'm glad you like Isla! I really like their relationship as well!
SimplyAWeirdo: Your wait is over :D
-8-
"But how do you travel in time?" Martha asked, having to shout over the noise of their travel, "What makes it go?"
The Doctor, with one foot hooked into the controls, cranked a winch on the side of the console, mouth open to reply.
"Don't bother trying to understand, he'll overcomplicate his explanation!" Isla cut him off, holding tight to his free arm, before smacking him in the shoulder. "She's a time machine, not a bloody playground! Stop climbing on her!"
"Ugh, hold on tight!"
The TARDIS landed with a groan, sending the three of them crashing about once more. Martha landed on the floor with a grunt, and the Doctor found himself caught between Isla and a coral pillar. He flailed wildly until Isla pushed herself away from him.
"Blimey!" Martha hauled herself back onto her feet, "Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?!"
"Yes, and I failed," the Doctor was moving again, as if the flailing hadn't happened. Martha looked to Isla, who also seemed completely unfazed, straightening her tweed hoodie out with a small smile. "Now, right out this door-" he beat the girls to it, standing in front and blocking the exit. "Brave new world."
"Where are we?" Martha asked, a cautious grin on her face.
"Take a look," the Doctor murmured, opening the door. "After you."
Martha hesitated only a moment, before running out of the TARDIS. The Doctor grinned smugly as Isla stepped out after her.
"Oh my God, you're kidding me! You're so kidding me!" Martha's excited words pleased the Doctor. "We actually did it, oh my God, we travelled in time! Where are we?" Martha jumped, realizing her slip, "Sorry, gotta get used to this. When are we?"
"Oh, gosh," Isla spied a lovely, hefty woman in a too short dress walking by. "Hello, beautiful."
"Stop it," the Doctor warned.
"Mind the Loo!" Someone cried. The Doctor grabbed the girls by the backs of their clothes and yanked them backwards, as the foul-smelling bucket of human waste was tossed out a window.
"Sometime before the invention of toilets, sorry about that." The Doctor murmured, releasing them.
"I've seen worse," Martha assured, "I worked late-night shift, A&E." She stared at Isla as the girl walked around the puddle of filth, hands in the pockets of her jeans. "Wait! Isla! Is it safe to move around?"
The Doctor snorted, and Isla replied with, "Why wouldn't it be?" her eyebrow quirked in question.
"Well, I mean, like in all the films! If you step on a butterfly, you change the future of the human race!"
"Then don't step on any butterflies." The Doctor said, then he scowled, "What have butterflies ever done for you?!" Martha chased after the Doctor as he started walking off.
"What if I kill my grandfather or something!?"
The Doctor turned an alarmed look on Isla.
"Oh, no," she laughed, "don't you look at me like that. This was your idea. You deal with it."
With a sigh, he looked over his shoulder at Martha, who had stepped in the filth in her hurry to keep up with the Time Lord and his mutant.
"Do you plan to kill your grandfather?"
"No..."
"Good. Come on!"
"And this is London?"
"Hm," Isla looked around, "I think so."
"About 1599," the Doctor added.
"Oh!" Martha reached out, and grabbed the Doctor's arm. "Am I safe? I'm not going to be carted off as a slave, am I?"
The Doctor looked horrified, "Why would they do that?"
"I'm not exactly white, in case you hadn't noticed." Martha pointed up at her face, and Isla chuckled.
"He's not even human," She threw an arm over Martha's shoulders. "Just walk around like you own the place, that's what works for him."
"You'd be surprised," he gestured to two pretty black women walking out of a shop and down the street. "Elizabethan England; not so different from your time. You've got recycling," pointing to a man shoveling manure into a bucket, "water cooler moment," to two men chatting around a barrel of water, "Global Warming," to a priest shouting about Revelations. "Not to mention, entertainment." He grabbed their hands and ran a short distance, revealing, "The Globe Theater! Brand new, just opened."
"Strictly speaking, it's not a globe," Isla cut in, "it's a tetradecagon. It's got 14 sides. 1599, you said? I wouldn't be surprised if the man himself were in there right now." The Doctor stared at Isla, wide eyed and shocked. She scoffed, "What? I read."
"The man himself..." Martha's jaw fell open, "You don't mean- is Shakespeare in there?"
"Oh yes," the Doctor nodded. He held his arms out to the girls, "Isla Pierce, Martha Jones, would you accompany me to the theatre?"
"Yes, John Smith, I will!"
"Sure, why not," Isla shrugged. Both girls looped an arm through one of his, and they proceeded with a skip in their step.
"When you get home, you can tell everyone you saw Shakespeare!" The Doctor was excited on Martha's behalf.
"And then I could get sectioned!" Martha's voice held false enthusiasm.
-8-
Isla had a scowl on her face, covering her nose with her sleeve, as everyone around her gave the Love's Labour's Lost cast a standing ovation.
The smell in the theatre was absolutely horrific, due in part to the lack of plumbing, and also to the lack of bathing.
"It's amazing! Just, amazing!" Martha cried. "It's worth putting up with the smell!"
"It absolutely is not." Isla complained. The Doctor grinned and leaned down to speak in Isla's ear.
"Did you enjoy the play?" His breath moved the hair the had fallen loose from her ponytail.
Isla lowered her sleeve with a smile.
"I enjoyed the play."
"Good."
"And those are men dressed as women, yeah?" Martha continued on, not noticing the quiet conversation.
"London never changes," the Doctor agreed.
"Where's Shakespeare, I want to see Shakespeare!" She raised a fist in the air, "Author, author!" Isla nudged her hard in the ribs, and Martha turned to her, suddenly sheepish. Isla gave a miniscule shake of the head. "Do people do that? Do they shout author?"
"Author, author!" Someone behind them took up the chant.
"Well," the Doctor muttered, as he looked around the now chanting crowd, "They do now."
Shakespeare responded to the chanting almost instantly, and as soon as he stepped on the stage, the Doctor's face split into a wide grin.
"He's a bit different to his portraits," Martha mused.
The William Shakespeare in front of them had a head full of luscious, dark hair, a handsome face, and an incredibly charming face.
"That's a face I should very much like to sit on." Isla agreed.
"Isla Nicole Pierce!"
"I could sit on your face, too, if you like."
The Doctor simply sputtered for a response, face as red as an apple.
"You can't talk about him like that!" He protested. "He's a genius! The genius. The most human Human there's ever been. Now, we're going to hear him speak. Always, he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words."
"Aww, the Doctor is in love," Isla teased.
"Shut up."
Shakespeare turned to the crowd with a grin, after blowing kisses in every direction, and shaking hands with the cast.
"Ah, shut your big, fat mouths!"
"Oh." The Doctor's jaw dropped. Isla snorted, amused.
"You should never meet your heroes," Martha commented.
"You have excellent taste, I'll give you that. Oh!" He spotted a man in the crowd, "that's a wig!" Laughter from the rest as the man covered his head. "I know what you're all saying; 'Love's Labour's Lost,' that's a funny ending! It just stops! Will the boys get the girls? Well, don't get your hose in a tangle, you'll find out soon." The crowd interrupted to complain, and Shakespeare was forced to shout over them. "Yeah, yeah. All in good time. You don't rush a genius."
Isla laughed along with the crowd, but it was cut short as a shiver ran down her spine, and on stage, Shakespeare jerked. Isla started looking around, frowning, which made the Doctor frown as well.
"Everything alright?"
"I dunno, I-" Shakespeare started speaking again, making Isla fall silent.
"When? Tomorrow night!" The crowd erupted into cheers once more, but the actors on stage looked at each other in surprise. Seemed it was the first they'd heard of it. "The premier of my brand new play, and a sequel, no less! 'Love's Labour's Won!'"
-8-
"I'm no expert," Martha murmured, as they shuffled out slowly with the crowd, "But I've never heard of Love's Labour's Won."
"It doesn't exist," the Doctor explained.
"It's a lost play," Isla added, "there's mentions of it in lists of his plays, but it never turns up. Nobody know why." Again, the Doctor was staring at her in shock. "What? Honestly, I do read."
"Have you got a mini-disc or something? We could flog it, sell it on the internet and make a mint."
The Doctor gave Martha a stern look. "No."
"That would be bad," Martha realized.
"Yeah, yeah." The Doctor grinned as Martha giggled and wrapped an arm around Isla's shoulders. She wasn't so tense anymore, but she still looked uneasy. "Alright?" He asked again. Isla nodded in response.
"How come it disappeared in the first place?" Martha asked, tucking her hands into the pockets of her red leather jacket.
"Well," the Doctor said through a sigh, "I was just going to give you a quick little trip in the TARDIS, but I suppose we could stay a bit longer."
Martha and Isla grinned at each other in response.
-8-
"Hello!" The Doctor knocked on the doorframe of William Shakespeare's office with a goofy grin. Behind him, Martha was shaking with excitement, and Isla was sending the Doctor's back a rather annoyed look. "Sorry! Not interrupting, am I?" The Doctor zeroed in on Shakespeare. "Mr. Shakespeare, wasn't it?"
"No, no, no," Shakespeare was shaking his head, "Who let you in here? No, you can't have an autograph, no, you can't have yourself sketched with me, and please don't ask where I get my ideas from." He nursed an oncoming headache. Martha and Isla peaked around opposite sides of the Doctor.
"You know," Isla spoke, as the Doctor continued to grin, and Martha stared, open mouthed, "I imagine I look quite like Shakespeare whenever you do something rude, Doctor."
"Oi!"
At the sound of her voice, Shakespeare looked up, mildly surprised. He didn't expect Martha and Isla to be behind the Doctor, and he was utterly captivated by them.
"Oh, nonny, nonny. You two can come sit here next to me. You two get sowing on them costumes, off you go," Shakespeare waved the men he was sitting with away. The innkeeper approached and placed a hand on both men's shoulders.
"Come on, lads. I think our William has found his new muse."
With rolls of their eyes, the men rose from their seats and left. The Doctor had a grin so wide that Isla feared it would split his cheeks.
"My sweet ladies, please, sit!" Shakespeare watched Isla sit, pulling the Doctor down beside her. Martha sat nervously next to them, a blush on her cheeks. "What unusual clothing you wear. So...tight fitting."
"Um...Verily forsooth egads," Martha replied, unsure of how she should speak. Isla covered her mouth as laughter threatened to bubble up her throat.
"No, no, don't do that." The Doctor pleaded. He turned to Shakespeare and held out the psychic paper. "I'm Sir Doctor of TARDIS. These are my Companions, Missus Martha Jones and Isla Pierce."
"Interesting, that bit of paper," Shakespeare mused, taking a bite of "it's blank." The Doctor dropped the paper, a tiny grin on his face.
"Oh, very clever," his voice was quiet with reverence, "That proves it. Absolute genius."
Martha looked at the paper, now sitting on the table. "No," she shook her head, "It says it, right there. Sir Doctor, Martha Jones, Isla Pierce. It says it!"
"I say it's blank."
"Wh-" Martha cut herself off, shaking her head.
"Psychic Paper," Isla whispered, but Martha was still confused. "It's a long story..."
"Blimey," the Doctor muttered, "I hate starting from scratch."
"Psychic?" Shakespeare leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. "I've never heard that word before, and words are my trade. Who are you, exactly? What's more, who are your tan goddess and this delicious blackamoor lady?"
Martha appeared scandalized. "What did you say?"
"Oops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays?" Shakespeare continued with a tiny smirk. "An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A Queen of Afric?"
"Oi!"
"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Martha said, turning towards Isla, who was frowning at the author.
The Doctor rubbed his eye, resisting the urge to flee the uncomfortable situation. "It's political correctness gone mad," he said, "Ah, Martha's from a far-off land...Fredonia."
Isla sighed, covering her face with a hand.
Shakespeare opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off then a rather large man in expensive clothing and sparkling jewels came in.
"Excuse me! Hold hard a moment!" he stormed up to the table, not giving the three strangers so much as a passing glance. "This is abominable behavior. A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script, Mr. Shakespeare! As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered by me and examined by me before it can be performed!"
Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it round," Shakespeare promised.
"I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine. The script, now."
"I can't!" Shakespeare snapped.
"Then tomorrow's performance is canceled!"
Isla frowned at the tension in the room, pulling at the collar of her jacket nervously. Martha leaned toward her to murmur, "It's all go 'round here, innit?"
"I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the last thing I do, Love's Labour's Won will never be played!" The man charged out of the room just as quickly as he'd come in.
Martha made a face as she reached for a mug of ale on the table, taking a sip. "Well, then," she sighed, "Mystery solved. That's Love's Labour's Won over and done with. I was hoping it would be more, well, mysterious."
"Martha, don't-" Isla's warning was cut short, as screaming rose from the streets below.
"Help me!" Someone cried, before shrieking shrilly once more.
"-say things like that," Isla finished, as the Doctor jumped up and ran towards the sound of Danger. The other three were quick to follow, rushing out into the courtyard.
The Master of Revels was in the center of the courtyard, hands at his throat, coughing up copious amounts of water.
"It's that man," Martha realized, as the innkeeper rushed up behind them.
"What's wrong with him?" The Doctor asked, watching with confused, narrow eyes.
"I-" Isla frowned, taking a slight step forward, "I think he's drowning!"
"Leave it to me, I'm a doctor!" The Doctor rushed forward to try and save the man.
"So am I," Martha followed, "Near enough."
"Isla," the Doctor called, looking up for a moment, "Look for what's causing this!"
The man fell over, water coming from his mouth in a torrent. Martha tried giving mouth to mouth, as Isla looked around the courtyard.
People were gathered to watch, horrified, but people always watched accidents unfold, it wasn't unusual. She began running around, looking for anything out of place. Before she got very far, she slammed into the maid that had been cleaning Shakespeare's room.
"Sorry ma'am!" The maid said, looking into Isla's eyes. A shiver went down Isla's spine, and she frowned, trying to figure out what it was about this pretty young woman that was sending her instincts into overdrive. She appeared to be a perfectly normal person.
"No," she replied slowly, "my fault."
"Excuse me, ma'am," the maid curtsied quickly, rushing towards the scene the Doctor found himself in the center of. Instead of following her, Isla made her way behind a stack of barrels, where the girl had come from. Nothing seemed out of place, except for the wet pieces of a straw doll next to a bucket of water. Isla picked the pieces up and examined them. A strand of grey hair was wrapped around the head of the doll.
"Isla!" The Doctor called. Isla looked up, seeing the Doctor gesturing her over to him as he and Martha stood over the body. She jogged over, placing the doll in her pocket for the moment. She crouched and picked up a strand of his hair, frowning thoughtfully. The same hair. The Doctor looked down at her with a frown of his own.
"What have you told them?" She asked, looking up at him, then back down at the body.
"That it was natural causes."
"Yeah, why have you done that?" Martha whispered harshly, as Isla stood and they all huddled together.
"This lot still have one foot in the Dark Ages," the Doctor explained, "If we tell them the truth they'll panic and think it was witchcraft."
"And what was it?"
Isla moved even closer, reached in her pocket and held out the doll.
"Witchcraft," she replied.
