A/N: So, how do you all feel about the choice of the new Doctor? I, quite personally, don't know how I feel about a female Doctor yet. I don't think my hesitation is a 'Female Doctor' thing. It's just a 'New Regeneration' thing. What about you? Also, my tumblr has had its first few visitors! Thanks so much for that! Any requests you've sent in will be completed shortly!
Review Replies:
deathb4beauty: I like this episode too, it's one of my favorite Martha episodes (if not my favorite). And I mean, come on, Shakespeare's a babe. Of course Isla would sit on his face.
NeoMulder: I'm glad you liked it. Isla isn't really investigating so much as snooping whilst following her instincts, but yeah, lol. I'm sorry for the wait!
fangirl0012345: Hi! Welcome! I'm glad you like it! I understand screeching about fanfiction to your friend, because I do it all the time, lol. I'm honored that you're screeching about mine! :D You've read a story where the main character was bisexual? That's amazing! I wasn't sure if I was trying too hard with Isla's sexuality, so your review was very comforting, thank you. Again, I'm glad you enjoyed and I hope you continue to do so!
Brookie Twiling: Thanks! Glad you enjoyed!
-8-
"I've got you a room, Sir Doctor," the innkeeper, Dolly, said, as they shuffled back into Shakespeare's room. "You and your Ladies are just across the landing."
The Doctor nodded his thanks, and with a small smile, Dolly left.
"Poor Lynley," Shakespeare sighed heavily, "So many strange events. Not least of all this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?"
"Where a woman can be what she likes," Martha corrected, raising her chin proudly.
"And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have a eyes so old?"
"I do a lot of reading," the Doctor replied dryly.
"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do," Shakespeare observed, then turned his eyes to Isla. "And you, Miss Pierce, you carry yourself tense, as though you're ready to fight at any moment. Your eyes tell a story of great horrors and losses, but when you and Sir Doctor look at each other, it's as though you've found light in the ever-growing darkness."
Isla and the Doctor glanced at each other, neither disagreeing. He was right, after all.
"And you," Shakespeare looked back to Martha, "You look at them like you're surprised either of them exist. Fear not, Sir Doctor is almost as much a puzzle to Miss Pierce as he is to you or me."
Martha frowned and glanced up at the Doctor, "I think we should say goodnight." She left rather quickly, avoiding eye contact.
"I must work," Shakespeare hauled himself to his feet, "But I shall have my answers tomorrow, once I've finished my play. I'll figure out why you continue this performance of yours."
"All the world's a stage," the Doctor quipped, and Isla snorted, rolling her eyes at the Doctor.
"Hmm. I might use that. Goodnight, Doctor, Miss Pierce.
"Nighty-night, Shakespeare."
-8-
"It's not exactly five star, is it?" Martha joked, when Isla and the Doctor stepped over the threshold.
"It'll do," the Doctor shrugged, "I've seen worse."
"Elizabethan England," Isla sighed fondly, a grin on her face, "My mum would love this! I've got to call her and tell-" Isla stopped face blank, with her phone halfway to her ear. The Doctor and Martha exchanged concerned looks, and the Doctor had just opened his mouth to soothe Isla when she blinked and pocketed her phone again with a casual, "Oh, yeah."
Another pause, then Martha spoke up, "I haven't even got a toothbrush..."
"Oh!" the Doctor patted his sides in thought, reaching into an inside pocket and pulling out a toothbrush. "There you go! Contains Venusian spearmint."
"What else have you got in there?" Isla wondered, tilting her head. The Doctor gave her a smirk and held his pocket open.
"Stick your hand in and find out."
Isla's mouth dropped open, but her lips were in a grin. "Naughty."
Martha took the toothbrush and looked it, before looking back and forth between Isla and the Doctor. "So who's going where?" She got confused stares in response. "I mean, there's only one bed."
"Ohh," Isla nodded, eyebrows raised in realization.
"We'll manage," the Doctor threw himself on the bed, leaning against the headboard and crossing his legs. "Come on."
Martha watched as Isla pulled off her hoodie and jeans, leaving her in just a white t-shirt and her underwear. The Doctor barely took notice, staring straight ahead in thought. Isla threw Martha a wink before climbing over the Doctor to lay at his side, leaving just enough room for Martha.
"So, magic and stuff," Martha commented slowly, "That's a surprise. It's all a bit Harry Potter, isn't it?"
The Doctor looked at her with a grin, "Wait until you read book seven. Oh, I cried."
Isla snorted in amusement, "You're so lame."
"Oi!"
"But is it real, though?" Martha cut into the moment, "Witches, black magic and all that? It's really real?" She was excited. This was amazing, after all.
"Course it isn't," the Doctor mocked, looking at Isla accusingly, "Do you see what happens when you start shouting 'witchcraft' around humans? Blimey."
"Well how am I supposed to know?!" Martha demanded, "I only just started believing in time travel, you know?"
"Yeah, Doctor," Isla poked him hard in the ribs, "give her a break!"
The Doctor rolled his eyes, brooding slightly as his companions ganged up on him. "It looks like Witchcraft, but it isn't. Can't be." He noticed Martha still standing at the edge of the bed. "Are you going to stand there all night?"
Martha took a deep breath and moved to the side of the bed. "Budge up a bit, then," she ordered, causing the Doctor to frown as Isla began shuffling over, forcing him to the very edge. "Sorry. Not much room, the three of us. Tongues will wag."
"We could make it truly scandalizing," Isla suggested. Martha blushed at the implication.
"Don't you dare," the Doctor muttered. Isla pouted playfully. The Doctor ignored it in favor of continuing to brood.
"What's on your mind, then?" Martha wondered, rolling over to put her chin on Isla's shoulder. It was the only way she could see them both.
He let out a soft breath before answering, "There's such a thing as psychic energy. But a human couldn't channel it through something so small. You'd need a generator the size of taunton and I think we'd have noticed that. No," he groaned, turning and scooting down so he was facing Isla and Martha. Martha watched his face as he was deep in thought, smiling softly. "There's something I'm missing. Something really close, staring me in the face and I can't see it."
"You're surprisingly good at missing things that are right in front of you, for someone so smart," Isla teased, glancing briefly at Martha at the Doctor's confused gaze. The Doctor shook his head, eyes going distant again.
"Rose would know. Right now, she'd say exactly the right thing," he glanced up, seeing Martha's disappointed eyes, and shrugged. "Still, can't be helped. You're a novice. Nevermind. We'll take you back home tomorrow."
"Great!" Martha snapped, blowing out the candle with more force than necessary.
After a while of silence, Martha's breathing evened out, but the Doctor and Isla both remained awake. In the darkness, the Doctor looked down at her.
"Do you want to talk about earlier?" he asked, reaching for her hand. Isla turned her palm up and laced their fingers.
"It's not a big deal," she told him, being sure to keep her voice down and not wake Martha. "It's just- I forgot. It still doesn't feel real. Like I'm dreaming, almost."
The Doctor squeezed her hand. "Do you miss her?"
"Of course," Isla's voice wavered, and the Doctor could see the tears glistening in her eyes. He reached up and brushed one away with his free hand. "I miss her every second."
"Good," he wrapped his arm around her to hug her awkwardly in their limited space. "Missing her means you won't ever forget her."
Isla opened her mouth to reply, when, from across the way, a scream pierced the air.
The Doctor and Isla jumped and raced for the door, but the Doctor threw a shout of, "Isla! Trousers!" over his shoulder, which caused Isla to pivot and dive back into the room with a curse. Martha was out the door in the next instant.
In Shakespeare's room, Dolly was dead on the floor. The Doctor crouched by her, examining her, as Martha ran to the window to see if she could catch the murderer. Isla came in the room, hopping, trying to get her jeans over her hips with haste.
"What's happened?" she sounded breathless.
Shakespeare jerked awake at his desk, looking on in confusion.
"Her heart gave out," the Doctor muttered, glancing back at Isla, "She died of fright."
Isla's mouth dropped open, then she looked up at Martha, who was still staring out the window.
"Martha?" She called. The young woman didn't move. The Doctor stood and hurried to her side.
"What did you see?" he asked gently.
"A witch."
-8-
"Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey," Shakespeare moaned, staring out the window. Behind him, at his table, sat Martha, the Doctor, and Isla. The Doctor had his hands covering his face, fingers split so he could still see. "She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place, while the rest of us ran like rats. What could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit."
"Rage, rage against the dying of the light," the Doctor quoted, drawing his hands down his face tiredly.
"I might use that," Shakespeare commented. Isla sighed in response, leaning against the Doctor's chair.
"You can't," she said, "It's someone else's."
Shakespeare gave a shrug, not too bothered.
"But the thing is," Martha spoke thoughtfully, "Lynley drowned on dry land, and Dolly died of fright and they were both connected to you."
"You're accusing me?" Shakespeare didn't sound as offended as he probably should have. Martha shook her head.
"No, but I saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches!"
Shakespeare's face scrunched in confusion. "I have? When was that?"
"Not..." the Doctor gave Martha a warning look, "not quite yet."
"Peter Streete spoke about witches," Shakespeare said then.
"Who's Peter Streete?"
"The architect," Isla said, without needing to think, "for the Globe." She chose not to comment on the Doctor's surprised look this time.
"The architect." He repeated. His face lit up. "The architect! The architect!" He slapped the table excitedly as he stood. "The architect! The Globe! Oh, thank you, Isla Nicole!" He pressed a grateful kiss to the crown of her head before grabbing his jacket and exiting with a call of "Come on!"
-8-
"Let's see," The Doctor paced in front of the stage of the Globe Theatre, moving his hands as he thought out loud. Isla, Martha and Shakespeare all stood on the stage, watching him. "The columns there, right? I've always wondered, but I've never asked. Tell me, Will. Why fourteen sides?"
"It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all," Will shrugged, "He said it carried the sound well."
"Fourteen," the Doctor breathed, turning on the spot, "Why does that right a bell? Fourteen..."
"There's fourteen lines in a sonnet," Martha called out. The Doctor nodded, still turning.
"So there is, good point. Words and shapes, following the same design. Fourteen sides, fourteen lines, fourteen facets. Oh, my head. Tetradecagon." He hit himself in the head, "Think, think, think! Words, numbers, letters, lines!"
"Doctor!" Isla jumped off the stage and grabbed the lapels of his coat, shaking him. "Take a deep breath! Giving yourself a concussion isn't going to help any. Besides, you're making me dizzy."
The Doctor put his hands on her shoulders, eyes distant, still thinking.
"This is just a theatre!" Shakespeare said, exasperated. Isla let the Doctor go and spun to face the newspaper.
"It's not just a theatre. No theatre is just a theatre. And besides that, this is your theatre."
Shakespeare appeared confused, but the Doctor understood. "It's magic, isn't it?" he came up and folded his arms, resting them on the stage. "If you stand here, on this stage, and say the right words, with the right emphasis at the right time. Oh, you could make men weep, or cry with joy. Change them. You can change people's minds just with words in this place. But if you exaggerate that..." The Doctor backed away from the stage and started looking at the walls again.
"It's like your police box," Martha commented. "Small wooden box with all that power inside."
"Oh. Oh, Martha Jones, I like you," the Doctor grinned at the compliment to the TARDIS. "Tell you what, though, Peter Street would know. Can I talk to him?"
"Won't get an answer," Shakespeare warned. "A month after finishing this place, he lost his mind."
"Why do you figure that?" Isla wondered, taking up the position the Doctor had vacated, with her arms crossed on the stage. Shakespeare looked down at her.
"He started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled."
"And yet here we are, on a witch hunt with William Shakespeare. Where is he now?"
"Bedlam."
"Oh, Will!" Isla scolded.
"What?" Martha looked between Isla and Shakespeare, "Why, what's Bedlam?"
"Bethlem Royal Hospital. The Asylum."
"We're going to go there. Right now. Come on." The Doctor hurried from the theatre.
"Doctor!" Isla called, jogging after him, "Why must you always wander off?"
"Wait!" Shakespeare called after them, waving his script for Love's Labour's Won in the air, as Martha followed at healthy clip. "I'm coming with you. I want to witness this at first hand."
Two young men passed Isla and the Doctor in the doorway, and Shakespeare ran to one of them.
"Ralph!" He said, handing him the script. "The last scene, as promised. Copy it, spread it 'round, learn it, speak it. Back before curtain up, and remember, kid, project. Eyes and teeth. You never know, the Queen might turn up." He turned and went to Martha, who was waiting for him so they could follow the Doctor and Isla together. "As if. She never does."
As they hurried towards Bedlam, Shakespeare looked to Martha. "So tell me of Freedonia, where women can be doctors, writers, actors."
"This country's ruled by a woman," Martha pointed out.
"Ah, she's Royal. That's God's business. Though, you and Miss Pierce are royal beauties. The Doctor is a lucky man."
"You know," Isla slowed her pace to walk with Martha and Shakespeare, "I agree. I don't think he deserves it to be quite honest."
"Perhaps, then, you'll allow me the honor of being the lucky one?" Will smirked down at her. Isla smirked right back at him, twisting a strand of hair around her finger.
"Perhaps I will. I wonder what words you'll create between my-"
"Whoa, Nelly!" Martha stopped walking and forced herself into the quickly shrinking space between Isla and Shakespeare. "I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country."
"Oh, but Martha," Shakespeare teased, "This is Town." He smirked upon seeing the blush light up Martha's cheeks.
The Doctor suddenly backtracked, glaring at all three of them.
"Come on! We can all have a good flirt later!"
"Is that a promise, Doctor?" Shakespeare and Isla asked at the same time, before pausing and looking at each other. The Doctor's jaw dropped for an instant, and Isla added, "I can't tell you what I'm thinking right now..."
"Oh, fifty-seven academics just punched the air..." The Doctor muttered, watching Shakespeare smirk at Isla, quite pleased with himself. The Doctor rolled his eyes, "Let's go!" Martha ran after him hurriedly.
With a final smirk at one another, Shakespeare and Isla followed.