A/N: Final chapter of this episode, hope you enjoy!
"All Hallows Street," the Doctor announced as they slowed their jog to a walk. "But which house?"
"You don't reckon they'll have a carved pumpkin outside their door?" Ryan joked. The Doctor shot him an amused smirk.
"Thing is though," Martha interrupted. "Am I missing something here? The world didn't end in 1599, it just didn't. Look at me and Ryan, we're living proof."
"Oh, how to explain the mechanics of infinite temporal flux," the Doctor sighed. "I know! Back to the Future! It's like Back to the Future!"
"The film?"
"Yep! Marty McFly goes back and changes history…"
"And he starts fading away!" Martha stilled. "Oh my god, am I gonna fade?"
The Doctor grew serious and quiet. "You, Ryan, and the entire future of the human race… it ends, right now, in 1599, if we don't stop it." He refocused on their surroundings. "But which house?"
As they were cluelessly looking around the street, a door creaked open and hit a wall with a rattle as it came to a halt.
The Doctor lightly elbowed Ryan. "Make that 'witch' house," he said, too proud of himself.
Ryan sighed, albeit with a grin on his face. "Not your best," he replied, patting the Doctor on the arm.
They entered the house, pulling back a burlap curtain to reveal the main room of the house. Candles dimly illuminated the room, displayed haphazardly with no logical order to their layout. Cobwebs hung from nearly every surface. A couple of cauldrons bubbled away, amongst some of the other spooky paraphernalia. The maid (now presumed Carrionite) they had seen at the Elephant Inn stood in the middle of it all, dressed in black robes.
The Doctor stood tall, front and centre, with his hands confidently tucked into his pockets. "I take it we're expected?"
"Oh, I think death has been waiting for you a very long time," the Carrionite countered.
"Right then, it's my turn." Martha tapped the Doctor's arm, and took a step forwards. "I know how to do this." She quickly raised her right arm, pointing her index finger. "I name thee… Carrionite!"
The Carrionite gasped, but instead of disappearing in a flash of light, she just smiled slyly.
"What did I do wrong, was it the finger?" Martha asked the Doctor.
"The power of a name only works once," the Carrionite explained. "Observe. I gaze upon this bag of bones, and now I name thee Martha Jones!"
Martha promptly passed out, the Doctor catching her on the way down.
"What have you done?!"
"What the hell did you just do?!" Ryan demanded, marching towards the Carrionite. She ignored Ryan's sharp glare, gazing past him at Martha's slumped form.
"Only sleeping, alas," she observed. "It's curious, the name has less impact, she's somehow out of her time…" Her eyes snapped to Ryan. "And as for you, pretty boy…"
Ryan watched nervously as the Carrionite raised a finger to touch his face.
"Ryan, get back!" the Doctor growled. Ryan broke out of his reverie, stumbling backwards as he nearly tripped over the uneven floorboards.
The Carrionite grinned conspiratorially, as if she knew something they didn't. "You have so many names; I didn't know which to choose. The little king, the wilted flower in a bush of thorns…" She paused, before whispering. "The Bad Wolf."
Ryan swallowed sharply. "Aren't you afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level as he bluffed.
The Carrionite saw through his falsified confidence. "Not today, nor ever," She smirked, slowly raising a finger again.
"Don't you dare!" the Doctor yelled, preemptively taking hold of Ryan's upper arms.
"For I now know this outsider, and I name him Ryan Tyler!"
The Doctor felt Ryan fall limp against him, his head lolling against the Doctor's chest. He gently lowered Ryan to the floor, one hand under his head. The Doctor carefully laid Ryan's head down, tracing along his jaw with two fingers, down to his pulse point. Slower than usual, but steady. Just lost consciousness, like Martha.
He gave Ryan one final look before swivelling on his feet, letting his anger boil up inside him as he slowly stood.
"Have I struck a nerve?" the Carrionite said, mockingly.
The Doctor scowled at her. "The Carrionites vanished, where did you go?" he spat out.
The Carrionite turned, striding away from him. "The Eternals found the right word to banish us into deep darkness."
"Then how did you escape?" the Doctor demanded, allowing his fury to flow freely through him.
She faced him again. "New words, new and glittering. From a mind like no other."
"Shakespeare." A cauldron caught the Doctor's eye, an image of a grieving Shakespeare projected onto the surface of the bubbling liquid.
"His son perished. The grief of a genius; grief without measure. Madness enough to allow us entrance."
"How many of you?"
"Just the three," the Carrionite said quickly, turning away from him again. "But the play tonight shall restore the rest. Then the human race will be purged, as pestilence. And from this world, we will lead the universe back into the old ways of blood and magic."
The Doctor scoffed as he slowly approached. "You won't be getting any of that, not while I'm in your way."
The Carrionite closed the gap between them, getting far too close for the Doctor's comfort. "Removing you should be a pleasure, considering my enemy has such a handsome shape."
The Doctor shifted uncomfortably as the Carrionite stroked from his temple down to his sideburn. In that moment, the Doctor decided that no one other than Ryan was ever allowed to touch his face in such a manner. Not that Ryan ever had, but still, the Doctor would not object to any strokes of Ryan's to his face. In fact, he imagined he would quite enjoy it.
He heard a sudden snip from behind his ear, and the Carrionite backed away towards a window, with a lock of his hair in between her fingers.
"What was that for, what did you do?" the Doctor questioned.
"A souvenir…"
"Well give it back!" he demanded.
The Carrionite ignored him, dramatically throwing her arms up in the air, causing the window to swing open. She flew backwards out of the open window. The Doctor sprinted towards her.
"Well that's just cheating," he muttered, braced against the windowsill.
"I couldn't find your true name, Sir Doctor, unlike those others," the Carrionite smiled menacingly. "But see also, men, to Carrionites, are nothing but puppets." She held up a small doll, and started to wind the Doctor's hair around it.
"Now, you might call that magic, I'd call that a DNA Replication Module."
"What use is your science now?" She stabbed the doll with a needle, and the Doctor cried out in pain, dropping onto the floor.
Ryan stirred into consciousness to hear the Doctor grunting and groaning. He pushed himself upright to see Martha striking the Doctor on the back.
"What happened?"
The Doctor's eyes lit up and he bounced to his feet, then ran over to Ryan.
"Oh, one of my hearts was stopped, but Martha got it started again, so it's all fine," he grinned, then softened his gaze. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Ryan smiled back. "I'm good."
The Doctor held a hand out for Ryan to take, and helped him to his feet. They shared a brief hug, before remembering the dire situation, and the trio quickly left for the Globe.
After a couple of wrong turnings (the Doctor's fault), they could see the Globe in the distance, with fiery red smoke lighting up the night sky. People were screaming as they fled away from the theatre.
"I told thee so! I told thee!" shouted the man who had been ranting and raving about the world ending when they had first arrived in Elizabethan London. They pointedly ignored him, watching the Globe.
"Stage door!" the Doctor yelled over the commotion.
They sprinted the rest of the way to the Globe, slipping through the stage door at the back. Inside, they found Shakespeare slouched against the wall, nursing his head.
"Stop the play! I think that was it. Yeah, I said, 'Stop the play!'" the Doctor lambasted.
"I hit my head…" Shakespeare moaned.
"Yeah, well don't rub it, you'll go bald…"
A loud scream pierced the air. "I think that's my cue," the Doctor commented, before running out onto the stage. Ryan grabbed Shakespeare by the wrist, pulling him along with them.
Out on the stage, battered by wind, they watched as the three Carrionites activated a crystal ball from the gallery. Hundreds and thousands of Carrionites flew from it like birds, with a crack of vivid red lightning. The wind speed increased drastically, nearly drowning out the screams of bystanders and the cackling laughter of the Carrionites.
Shakespeare started to back away, but the Doctor took hold of him, dragging him back.
"Come on, Will! History needs you!" the Doctor shouted.
"But what can I do?" Shakespeare yelled back.
"Reverse it!"
"How am I supposed to do that?"
"The shape of the Globe gives words power, but you're the wordsmith – the one true genius, the only man clever enough to do it!"
"But what words? I have none ready."
The Doctor swatted him on the arm. "You're William Shakespeare!"
"But these Carrionite phrases, they need such precision."
"Trust yourself," the Doctor told him. "When you're locked away in your room, the words just come, don't they, they're like magic. Words, with the right sound, the right shape, the right rhythm, words that last forever! That's what you do, Will, you choose perfect words, do it! Improvise!"
The Doctor took a few steps back, to stand next to Ryan and Martha, allowing Shakespeare to take centre stage.
"Close up this din of hateful dire decay! Decomposition of your witches' plot. You thieve my brains, consider me your toy, my doting Doctor tells me I am not! Foul Carrionite spectres, cease your show between the points…" Shakespeare stalled, turning to the Doctor for the coordinates.
"Seven six one three nine o," the Doctor supplied.
"Seven six one three nine o," Shakespeare repeated. "And banished like a tinker's cuss, I say to thee…"
He turned to the Doctor for assistance again. Ryan tried to help, assuming Shakespeare wanted a word that rhymed with 'cuss', but he couldn't think of anything, nor could the Doctor, whose mouth hung open uselessly.
"Expelliarmus!" blurted out Martha.
"Expelliarmus!" repeated Shakespeare, gesticulating wildly.
This seemed to do the trick, as the Carrionites in the gallery cried in defeat, and the hundreds of Carrionites swooping in the air were sucked up into the sky like dust into a vacuum cleaner. From behind the stage, thousands of sheets of paper assaulted soared past them, following the Carrionites into the sky, all evidence of their attempt at destroying the Earth cleaned up.
"Love's Labour's Won," the Doctor mused. "There it goes."
With a final crack of lightening, the sky closed up, and the night returned to a steady black.
Gasps echoed through the audience, followed by a tentative applause, that only grew louder and louder, until the entire audience was clapping and cheering. The Doctor darted offstage, leaving Ryan and Martha to accept the audience's ovation alongside Shakespeare and a couple of actors.
"They think it was all think was all special effects," Martha breathed out.
Shakespeare turned to her. "Your effect is special indeed."
"That's not your best line."
Ryan snorted. "Not as bad as 'royal beauty', though."
Shakespeare rolled his eyes, and they all held hands and bowed to their audience.
"This is brilliant, Ryan!" the Doctor practically squealed in excitement. "How often do you get to look around the props store of the Globe Theatre?"
Ryan scrunched his face up in thought. "I dunno, as often as you like, I guess, seeing as you've got a time machine. Although… knowing your driving, we'd be lucky to even end up here again," he teased, grinning cheekily.
The Doctor sniffed. "I'd like to see you try."
Ryan laughed. "Nah, you wouldn't, cos I'd do a better job than you."
"And then you'd never shut up about it!"
They both broke out into peals of laughter, leaning on each other for support.
"Good props store, back there," the Doctor said, as they walked onto the stage, where Martha seemed to be having a moment with Shakespeare. "Not sure about this, though," the Doctor continued, looking down the at the animal's skull in his hand.
"Why, what's wrong with it?" Ryan asked.
"Doesn't it remind you of a Sycorax?"
"Oh yeah, course it does!" Ryan smiled at the memories of this new new Doctor saving the world for the first time, and the Christmas they shared together, with his mum and Mickey.
"Sycorax? Nice word," Shakespeare commented. "I'll have that off you as well."
"I should be on ten percent," the Doctor replied. "How's your head?"
"Still aching."
"'Ere. I got you this. Neck brace." The Doctor took off the neck ruff he was wearing and put it around Shakespeare's neck, fixing it at the back. He took a step back. "Wear that for a few days, till it's better. Although, you might want to keep it, suits you." Ryan agreed, Shakespeare now shared a far greater resemblance to the man who had stared back at Ryan from his sheets of photocopied poems.
"What about the play?" Martha enquired.
"We looked," Ryan replied. "No copies left."
"My lost masterpiece," Shakespeare said, solemnly.
"You could write it up again," Martha suggested.
The Doctor grimaced slightly. "Yeah, better not, Will. There's still power in those words, maybe it'd just best stay forgotten."
Shakespeare smiled. "Oh, but I've got new ideas. Perhaps it's time I wrote about fathers and sons. In memory of my boy. My precious Hamnet."
"Hamnet?" Martha frowned.
"That's him."
"Ham… net?"
"What's wrong with that?"
"Anyway," the Doctor interrupted. "Time we were off. I've got a nice attic in the TARDIS, where this lot can scream for all eternity." He picked up the crystal ball, where the three Carrionites were howling inside, clawing at the glass. "And er, we've got places to go. Things to see. People to meet."
"You mean travel on through time and space?"
Ryan's jaw dropped open.
"You what?" the Doctor uttered.
"You're from another world, like the Carrionites," Shakespeare elaborated. "Ryan and Martha are from the future. It's not that hard to work out."
The Doctor was (almost) rendered speechless. "That's… incredible. You are incredible!"
"We're alike in many ways, Doctor. Martha." Shakespeare turned back towards her. "Let me say goodbye to you with a new verse. A sonnet for my beautiful lady."
Shakespeare started reciting a sonnet, while the Doctor and Ryan watched on, with varying degrees of patience (Ryan: a lot. The Doctor: practically none). They could hear the approaching click of horse hooves in the distance.
"Will! Will! You'll never believe it!" Two actors burst into the theatre. "She's here! She's turned up!"
"We're the talk of the town," the other actor smiled proudly. "We're the talk of the town. She heard about last night, she wants us to perform it again!"
"Who's that?" Ryan asked.
"Her Majesty, she's here!"
A fanfare played, and the Queen walked in, flanked by guards.
"Queen Elizabeth the First!" the Doctor exclaimed, his voice in his excited higher pitch.
"Doctor!" she croaked.
His face started to fall. "What?"
"My sworn enemy!"
"What?"
"Doctor, what the fuck have you done?" Ryan half-yelled.
Queen Elizabeth spotted him. "And Ryan, that little sodomite!"
Ryan froze in shock. "What the fuck have I done?" he asked no one in particular, other than perhaps himself.
"Off with their heads!"
"What?!" Ryan and the Doctor both exclaimed in unison.
"Well never mind what, just run!" Martha cried. The Doctor and Ryan snapped out of their stupor and followed Martha behind the stage. "See you Will! And thanks!" Martha called out.
They ran, weaving through the streets, making a beeline to the TARDIS, ignoring the shouts of guards behind them.
"What have you two done to upset her?" Martha asked as they ran.
"How should I know; we haven't even met her yet!" the Doctor replied. "That's time travel for you! Still, can't wait to find out!" He unlocked the TARDIS, and Martha and Ryan piled in. "That's something to look forward to!"
And onwards they ran, to their next adventure.
A/N: Just in case, the name Ryan means little king.
Thanks for reading, comments are super appreciated :)