Season Three "The Shakespeare Code"
The Doctor turned a wheeled control while Martha held on to the console to remain steady. From a door somewhere to the right, Rose comes out with what looked like a bag of biscuits. Martha stared at her incredulously.
"Are you eating?" she asked in shock.
Rose nodded. "I'm hungry. Spent all day with hospital food, didn't I?"
"But… but the bumping and tipping…?"
The other woman shrugged. "Get used to it, really. But I bet she'd fly nicer, if a certain Doctor acted nicer."
He grinned at her, not answering the old argument, and she made her way to him, popping a biscuit in his mouth.
"But how do you travel in time? What makes it go?" Martha queried then.
He chewed and swallowed before saying in a slightly reprimanding tone, "Oh, let's take the fun and mystery out of everything. Martha, you don't wanna know. It just does. Hold on tight!"
He practically climbed onto the console. There was a vicious thump of a landing, that knocked Martha to the floor and caused the Doctor to fall off the console. Only Rose remained standing, braced against the rail with one foot on the console and the bag of snacks in her hand.
Martha climbed to her feet. "Blimey! Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?"
"Yes, and I failed it," he said cheerfully. He grabbed his coat. "Now, make the most of it. I promised you one trip and one trip only. Outside this door... Brave new world."
Rose closed the bag and set it on the console, moving to grab Martha's jacket and one for herself.
"Where are we?" the new traveler asked excitedly, slipping her jacket on as the Doctor stood by the door.
"Take a look," he told her, opening the door. "After you."
He stopped Rose for a kiss, still amazed that he was allowed to do that whenever he wanted, and they followed Martha outside and onto an Elizabethan street at night with people milling about.
Their new friend was amazed. "Oh, you are kidding me. You are so kidding me. Oh, my God! We did it. We travelled in time. Where are we? No, sorry. I gotta get used to this whole new language. When are we?"
The Doctor looked up and tugged the excited woman back as from a first floor window and man dumped the contents of a bucket. Rose wrinkled her nose.
"Mind the loo!" the man yelled.
"Somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that," the Doctor grimaced.
Undaunted by the near soiling, Martha shrugged. "I've seen worse. I've worked the late night shift at A&E. But are we safe? I mean, can we move around and stuff?"
Rose tipped her head. "Of course we can. We do it all the time. Why do you ask?"
The black woman shrugged. "It's like in the films. You step on a butterfly; you change the future of the human race."
The Doctor looked highly amused. "Well, tell you what then, don't step on any butterflies. What have butterflies ever done to you?"
Rose smacked his arm. "Don't tease her."
They started walking down the street.
"What if, I dunno, what if I kill my grandfather?"
"You planning to?" the Doctor teased further.
"No."
"Well, then," he looked at Rose, squeezing her hand slightly as they walked along. "We're traveling with a hypothetical murderer. Butterflies and old men be warned."
Rose laughed. "I better keep an eye on you, then. You're the oldest man I know."
He gave her a playfully dark look.
"This is London," Martha exclaimed.
The Doctor nodded in agreement. "I think so. Right about 1599."
Martha paused, looking at them with a tremor of apprehension. "Oh, but hold on. Am I all right? I'm not gonna get carted off as a slave, am I?"
Rose gave a start of surprise, asking with a frown, "Why would they do that?"
Her friend gestured to her skin. "Not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed."
The Doctor shrugged with a grin. "I'm not even human. Just walk about like you own the place. Works for me. Besides, you'd be surprised. Elizabethan England, not so different from your time. Look over there."
There was a man shoveling manure and the Doctor said, "They've got recycling."
Rose giggled and joined in, pointing at two men conversing at a water barrel. "There's a water cooler moment."
Next they walked past a man preaching about the end of the world.
"... and the world will be consumed by flame!"
Martha finally grinned as well. "Let me guess, global warming?"
The three of them laughed at their jokes.
"Oh, yes," the Doctor agreed. "And... entertainment! Popular entertainment for the masses. If I'm right, we're just down the river by Southwark right next to... Oh, yes, the Globe Theatre! Brand new. Just opened. Through, strictly speaking, it's not a globe; it's a tetradecagon — 14 sides — containing the man himself."
They rounded the corner and stood facing the most famous theater in all of London.
"Whoa, you don't mean... is Shakespeare in there?" Martha asked breathlessly.
"Oh, yes. Miss Jones, will you accompany us to the theatre?"
"Yes, Mr. Smith, I will," she beamed.
Rose mirrored her smile, leaning against the Doctor happily. "When you get home, you can tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare."
The other woman laughed. "Then I could get sectioned!"
"Well, so long as you have a plan," the blonde chuckled as they entered the building.
The performance was amazing, the actors having a cadence and comfort with the formal stanzas as was rarely seen in modern times. The house was packed, everyone applauding and cheering as the actors were onstage taking their bows.
Martha was chattering about the experience. "That's amazing! Just amazing. It's worth putting up with the smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah."
"London never changes," the Doctor commented, innocently smiling when Rose turned a look at him.
The woman next to them could hardly contain herself. "Where's Shakespeare? I wanna see Shakespeare. Author! Author!"
The Doctor and Rose looked at her.
Worried she'd done something wrong, she asked, "Do people shout that? Do they shout "Author"?"
Another man in the crowd near them picked up the chant and it soon spread.
"Well... they do now."
Shakespeare came out and took an exaggerated bow, blowing kisses to the crowd. Naturally, the audience went wild and cheered even louder.
"He's a bit different from his portraits," Martha said, staring at the man on the stage.
The Doctor began talking to Rose about the man before them, getting a bit carried away, as always. "Genius. He's a genius - THE genius. The most human Human that's ever been. Now we're gonna hear him speak. Always, he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words."
To their surprise, the laughing words from the wordsmith were, "Shut your big fat mouths!"
The audience laughed, obviously this was a normal thing to hear from the bard.
The crestfallen face of the Doctor reminded Rose of a little boy who lost his puppy. He simply said, "Oh, well."
"You should never meet your heroes," Martha nodded solemnly.
It appeared the playwright wasn't done showing off for the audience, as he said arrogantly, "You have excellent taste! I'll give you that. Oh, that's a wig! I know what you're all saying. 'Loves Labour's Lost', that's a funny ending, isn't it? It just stops! Will the boys get the girls? Well, don't get your hose in a tangle, you'll find out soon. Yeah, yeah. All in good time. You don't rush a genius." He bowed. "When? Tomorrow night. The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it 'Loves Labour's Won'!"
The audience applauded loudly and the Doctor frowned. The three of them left the theatre with the rest of the crowd. Rose kept glancing at him in concern.
"I'm not an expert, but I've never heard of 'Loves Labour's Won'," Martha said, looking at them.
Thoughtfully, the Doctor said, "Exactly — the lost play. It doesn't exist — only in rumours. It's mentioned in lists of his plays but never ever turns up. No one knows why."
Martha grinned, not quite serious. "Have you got a mini-disk or something? We could tape it. We can flog it. Sell it when we get home and make a mint."
"No," the Doctor said instantly, exchanging a look with Rose.
Rose shook her head. "Definitely not."
"That would be bad?" the woman guessed.
"Very bad," Rose assured her.
"Well, how come it disappeared in the first place?" she wanted to know.
"Well, I was just gonna give you a quick little trip in the TARDIS but I suppose we could stay a bit longer."
His love grabbed his arm, eyes shining. "Oh, yes, Doctor. Let's find out what happened to it!"
Bowing with a dramatic flourish, he assured her, "If that is what milady wishes, that is what milady shall have!"
Rose shook her head. "Oh dear. Perhaps not, if it's going to do that to you."
Martha couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out at the insulted look on the Doctor's face, and Rose grinned.
"Gotcha."
He shook his head, pulling her to his side. "Too late now, you're stuck with me!"
They laughed merrily as they moved out to find out about their new mystery.
A bit later, the Doctor knocked on a door, letting himself into a room where Shakespeare sat talking to two men. "Hello! Excuse me! I'm not interrupting, am I? Mr. Shakespeare, isn't it?"
The author shook his head. "Oh no, no, no, no. Who let you in? No autographs. No, you can't have yourself sketched with me. And please don't ask where I get my ideas from. Thanks for the interest. Now be a good boy and shove-"
Martha and Rose peeked out from behind the doctor, looking around the room.
The man brightened, "Hey, nonny nonny. Sit right down here next to me. You two get sewing on them costumes. Off you go."
The barmaid grinned and shook her head. "Come on, lads. I think our William's found his new muse, or muses in this case."
Martha and Rose scooted around the Doctor, the latter winking at him.
The author grinned at the ladies as they sat at the table, "Sweet ladies. Such unusual clothes. So... fitted."
Unsure how she was supposed to talk to a man from the 16th century, Martha stumbled, "Um, verily, forsooth, egads."
Cringing, the Doctor said, "No, no, don't do that. Don't." He held out the psychic paper to Shakespeare. "I'm Sir Doctor of TARDIS and this is my wife, Rose, and her companion, Miss Martha Jones."
Rose beamed at him when he said wife, and his hearts jumped a bit. What if he… no, it would be silly of him to think that. But what if it wasn't silly? Would she…? The words of the Bard shook him back to reality.
"Interesting, that bit of paper. It's blank."
"Oh, that's... very clever. That proves it. Absolute genius," the Doctor said, impressed.
Martha looked at the paper. "No, it says so right there. Sir Doctor, Dame Rose, Martha Jones. It says so."
Shakespeare smirked at her. "And I say it's blank."
"Psychic paper. It says whatever the holder wants the other person to see," Rose explained to their friend.
The Doctor put the psychic paper away.
"Psychic," Shakespeare repeated. "Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you exactly? More's the point, since the golden beauty is obviously spoken for, who is your delicious blackamoor lady?"
Martha tensed. "What did you say?"
Obviously not feeling he's really misspoken, he continues, "Oops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A Queen of Afric..."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this."
Rose patted Martha's arm, an understanding smile on her face.
"It's political correctness gone mad," the Doctor said, trying to defuse the culture clash. "Um, Martha's from a far-off land. Freedonia."
A man burst into the room. "Excuse me! Hold hard a moment. This is abominable behaviour. 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 at my office and examined by me before it can be performed."
Easily, the author promised, "Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it 'round."
The Master of Revels puffed up in his annoyance. "I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine. The script, now!"
Maintaining an even tone, the writer simply said, "I can't."
"Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled!" the man before them announced.
"It's all go, 'round here, isn't it?" Martha murmured.
"I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the last thing I do, 'Love's Labours Won' will never be played."
The man left, as abruptly as he came.
A bit sad that their mystery is so easily and quickly solved, Martha said, "Well, then... mystery solved. That's 'Love's Labours Won' over and done with. Thought it might be something more, you know... more mysterious."
They heard screaming from outside rushed out to the street where Lynley is spitting up water.
"It's that Lynley bloke," Rose said.
"What's wrong with him? Leave it to me— I'm a doctor," the Doctor announced, striding toward the man.
Martha gaped. "So am I – near enough."
Rose hung back a bit with Shakespeare. Down in the street, Lynley fell to the ground. The Doctor stood and ran to look down the street.
Martha listened for heartbeat and breathing. "Gotta get the heart going. Mr Lynley, c'mon, can you hear me? You're gonna be all right."
She prepared to start mouth-to-mouth as the Doctor returned and water gushed from Lynley's mouth.
"What the hell is that?" Martha gasped, jerking back.
The Doctor frowned. "I've never seen a death like it. His lungs are full of water — he drowned and then... I dunno, like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow." He stood and addressed the barmaid from earlier. "Good mistress, this poor fellow has died from a sudden imbalance of the humours. A natural if unfortunate demise. Call a constable and have him taken away."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll do it, ma'am," the maid said.
The Doctor crouched back down beside the body.
"And why are you telling them that?" Martha asked him, scowling at the ridiculous diagnosis.
The Doctor answered as Rose moved to his side. "This lot still have got one foot in the Dark Ages. If I tell them the truth, they'll panic and think it was witchcraft."
"What was it then?" Rose asked him.
"Witchcraft."
Martha and Rose shared a look of disbelief. After the excitement in the street, the returned to the inn, deciding it was better if they stayed close to whatever was happening rather than return to the TARDIS for the evening. The barmaid who'd been helping them was also the housekeeper for the inn. "I got you and your lady wife a room, Sir Doctor. Miss Jones, you are just across the landing."
"Thank you, Dolly," Rose said, having gotten the woman's name.
Dolly smiled and bobbed a quick curtsey, heading back downstairs.
Shakespeare, who hadn't left them just yet, sighed. "Poor Lynley. So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?"
"Where a woman can do what she likes," Martha corrected a bit smugly.
Rose winked at her, holding up a fist and mouthing "girl power" to her friend who returned the gesture with a wink of her own.
The author turned. "And you, Sir Doctor. How can a happily married man so young have eyes so old? Surely your Rose doesn't have you so beleaguered?"
"Quite the opposite, I assure you, friend," the Doctor said lightly, hugging Rose to him. "I do a lot of reading."
Rose snuggled into his arms, quite liking any reason to be held against him.
"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do." He looked at Martha. "And you, you look at him like you're surprised he exists. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me. At least his lady is at ease with him. Really though, the golden aura behind her eyes is just as puzzling as anything else I've seen this day."
"I think we should say good night," Martha said slowly, seeing the alarm in Rose's eyes.
The black woman headed into her room at this.
Staring after her a moment, the Bard nodded. "I must work. I have a play to complete. But I'll get my answers tomorrow, Doctor, and I'll discover more about you and why this constant performance of yours."
Pausing at the doorway, after ushering Rose inside, the Doctor said, "All the world's a stage."
"Hm, I might use that. Good night, Doctor."
"Nighty-night, Shakespeare."
Rose was examining their room when the Doctor entered.
"It's not exactly the TARDIS, is it?"
"Oh, it'll do. I've seen worse. At least we're here together."
She beamed at him again, moving to hug him. "So, who's going where? I mean, there's only one bed."
"We'll manage. C'mon," he said easily, flopping onto the bed.
"So, magic and stuff. That's a surprise. Usually it's some kind of alien technology we're up against," she said slowly, considering this new development. "But is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic and all that, it's real?"
"'Course it isn't!" he said, looking surprised she even asked. "Looks like witchcraft, but it isn't. Can't be. Are you gonna stand there all night?"
Rose shook herself and sat on the bed next to him. "Budge up a bit, then. Sorry, there's not much room. Us two here, same bed. Tongues will wag."
"Of course they won't, we're meant to be married," the Doctor said as she lay down. "There's such a thing as psychic energy but a human couldn't channel it like that. Not without a generator the size of Taunton and I think we'd have spotted that. No. There's something I'm missing, Rose. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it."
She turned to face him, their faces only inches away. "Well, how can we open your eyes?"
He grinned at her. "I've been a bit distracted lately."
Rose blinked coyly. "Really? What could possibly be distracting you?"
He pulled her to him, kissing her fiercely and she melted into his embrace. Needing air after a bit, she pulled back.
"That's not going to figure out our mystery," she teased quietly.
"Still fun," he whispered, pulling her close again.
They were pleasantly engaged for quite some time, and when Rose finally fell asleep, she was wrapped in the Doctor's arms curled on his chest. He never slept much, but he lay there smiling happily as he watched her. He'd just about made up his mind that he was going to propose to this beautiful woman. After all, they lived together in the TARDIS, she gave up everything just to be with him, they had proven they were willing to lay down their lives for each other, and he had absolutely no intention of ever letting her go again… not to mention that he loved her, and she loved him. The way she'd lit up when he called her his wife made him wish in that moment it had been true. He stroked her hair hours after her breathing had evened out.
When a scream ripped through the quiet early morning, her hazel eyes flew open and they only stared at each other breathlessly for a half second before scurrying out of bed and running toward the scream. They were followed closely by Martha who noticed their rumpled appearance, but chose not to comment. The doctor was missing his overcoat, and suit coat, and tie, which didn't seem to phase him, and Rose was in a tank top, her jacket lying somewhere in their room.
They burst into Shakespeare's room, waking him when they entered and stopped to examine Dolly's body.
"Wha'? What was that?" he asked, mind still foggy.
Martha ran to the window where she saw the silhouette of a witch on a broom flying in the sky.
"Her heart gave out. She literally died of fright," the Doctor said grimly. That was two deaths now.
"Doctor? Rose?" Martha said, voice trembling.
Rose moved to the woman's side at the window. "What did you see?"
"A witch," she said, not even believing herself.
The group didn't leave the room until dawn was beginning to break. When the cock crowed that morning, Martha and Shakespeare sat at the author's desk, while the Doctor sat holding Rose on a small sofa opposite.
"Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey," Shakespeare lamented. "She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place. We all ran like rats. But what could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit."
"Rage, rage against the dying of the light," the Doctor murmured.
"I might use that," the wordsmith said softly.
"You can't. It's someone else's," he said.
Rose smiled up at him. He was always the same, her Doctor.
Martha was trying to work out why two people had died that night. "But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright and they were both connected to you."
The author looked at her, surprised. "You're accusing me?"
She shook her head. "No, but I saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches."
"I have? When was that?"
The Doctor looked up at her sharply and spoke in a low, warning tone, "Not, not quite yet."
"Peter Streete spoke of witches," Shakespeare said thoughtfully.
"Who's Peter Streete?" Martha asked, grateful for the slight change in the conversation.
The author looked surprised that they didn't know. "Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe."
"The architect. Hold on. The architect! The architect!" the Doctor jumped to his feet, startling everyone. "The Globe! Come on!"
He rushed off, pausing only to grab Rose's hand. Martha and Shakespeare rushed after them. When they arrived, the Doctor left the three of them on the stage and jumped into the pit. He looked around, pointing out various things, mostly to Rose who had been with him long enough to learn something of the universe and had been his sounding board for several years now.
"The columns there, right? 14 sides. I've always wondered but I never asked... tell me, Will, why 14 sides?"
The man shrugged his shoulders, at a loss to the true reason. "It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all. Said it carried the sound well."
The Doctor paced. "Why does that ring a bell? 14…"
"There are 14 lines in a sonnet," Martha suggested helpfully.
Rose tipped her head thoughtfully, trying to remember where she'd heard the number recently.
"So there is. Good point. Words and shapes following the same design. Fourteen lines, 14 sides, 14 facets…Oh, my head. Tetradecagon... think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!"
"This is just a theatre," Shakespeare said lamely, wondering if that was even true.
"Oh, but a theatre's magic, isn't it?" the Doctor asked him with a grin. "You should know. Stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis a the right time... Oh, you can make men weep, or cry with joy, change them. You can change people's minds just with words in this place. And if you exaggerate that..."
"It's like you're police box. Small wooden box with all that POWER inside," Martha mused.
"Oh. Oh, Martha Jones, I like you," Rose beamed at the other woman. "Doctor, she's good!"
He grinned. "Tell you what, though. Peter Streete would know. Can we talk to him?"
The bard hesitated. "You won't get an answer. A month after finishing this place... lost his mind."
"Why? What happened?" Rose asked, immediately concerned for the well being of a stranger.
"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled."
The Doctor leapt back onto the stage, looking at Shakespeare. "Where is he now?"
"Bedlam."
Martha shook her head. "What's Bedlam?"
The writer stared at them, not quite as shocked by their lack of knowledge as he'd been before. "Bethlem Hospital. The madhouse."
"We're gonna go there. Right now. Come on," the Doctor declared, grabbing Rose's hand.
Their traveling partner had begun to associate his taking her hand like that as the sign they'd be off an moving soon, and usually at a quick pace. She wasn't disappointed this time, and Martha followed the quick step of the Doctor as did Shakespeare after a moment.
"Wait!" he called. "I'm coming with you. I want to witness this at first hand!"
In the street, Martha and Shakespeare fell into step together behind Rose and the Doctor.
Rose glanced back at them before speaking to the Doctor. "He seems quite taken with her."
The Doctor nodded. "Too bad he's married. Martha wouldn't care for being a mistress."
"He's married?!" Rose hissed. "Then why's he flirting with everyone else? Don't men take their vows seriously?!"
"Some do," he said, oddly serious at that. "I would..."
He stopped, seeing Martha getting upset with the playwright.
"Come on. We can all have a good flirt later," he said, urging the other two forward.
The Bard gave him a suggestive look. "Is that a promise, Doctor?"
"Oh, 57 academics just punched the air. Now move!"
Rose fell into step with him again and sighed. "I miss Jack."
The Doctor shot a look at her and turned away again. One of these days he was going to have to tell her...
They found Bedlam easy enough, and with the psychic paper, were soon on their way to speak with the architect. Loud screams and moans filled the air as the little group was led through through the corridor.
The Jailer seemed eager to please the Doctor, and offered him the sort of service he usually offered men of high station who found their way into the halls. "Does my lord, Doctor, wish some entertainment while he waits? I'd whip these madmen. They'll put on a good show for ya. Bandog and Bedlam!"
The Doctor was horrified by the mental image and snapped, "No, I don't!"
As though sensing that mistake, he bowed a bit. "Wait here, my lords, while I make him decent for the ladies, if they insist on entering."
He walked away, trying to make up for his slip.
Martha snarled at the treatment of the patients. All her medical training cringed at the treatment of the patients. "So this is what you call a hospital, yeah? Where the patients are whipped to entertain the gentry? And you put your friend in here?"
"Oh, and it's all so different in Freedonia," the writer snapped.
"But you're clever!" she tried to reason. "Do you honestly think this place is any good?"
He shook his head with a dark expression. "I've been mad. I've lost my mind. Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose."
"Mad in what way?" Rose wondered.
"He lost his son," the Doctor told her, his tone soft and respectful.
"Oh that's awful," she cried.
The writer closed his eyes against the pain. "My only boy. The Black Death took him. I wasn't even there."
"I didn't know. I'm sorry," Martha said, fidgeting.
"It made me question everything. The futility of this fleeting existence. To be or not to be... oh, that's quite good."
"You should write that down," the Doctor told him.
"Hm, maybe not. A bit pretentious?"
The jailer called from Peter Street's cell. "This way, m'lord!"
They moved down the hall and the jailer unlocked the door, letting them in.
"They can be dangerous, m'lord. Don't know their own strength," the jailer warned. "Might not be real safe for your ladies."
The Doctor looked at him coldly. "I think it helps if you don't whip them! Now get out!"
The man scurried for the door and the Doctor approached Peter slowly.
"Peter? Peter Streete?"
"He's the same as he was. You'll get nothing out of him," Shakespeare said, saddened for his friend.
Rose moved to the man's side, and laid a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Peter?"
Peter's head jerked up and he looks between the woman and the Doctor with wild, glassy eyes and seemed like he wanted to speak.
The Doctor put his hands on either side of the man's face, glancing at Rose, who nodded at him, leaving her hand on Peter's shoulder.
He spoke, "Peter, I'm the Doctor. Go into the past, one year ago. Let your mind go back, back to when everything was fine and shining. Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A winter's tale. Let go. Listen. That's it, just let go." He lay the man down on his cot, Rose taking his hand. "Tell me the story, Peter. Tell me about the witches."
When the man began speaking, his voice was almost childlike, afraid, and trying to tell them before he couldn't. "Witches spoke to Peter. In the night, they whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design. THEIR design! The 14 walls — always 14. When the work was done they sapped poor Peter's wits."
He laughed, and the humans in the cells shivered.
The Doctor pressed on. "Where did Peter see the witches? Where in the city? Peter, tell me. You've got to tell me where were they?"
The poor man trembled. "All Hallows Street."
A wrinkled hag appeared next to the doctor, "Too many words."
He stood and pulled Rose away from the witch, his arms going around her protectively.
"What the hell?" Martha exclaimed.
"Just one touch of the heart," the hag said with a vicious grin as she reached out and touched the man's chest.
The Doctor jumped forward. "Noooo!"
"Ahhhhh!" Peter screamed out and died.
"Witch! I'm seeing a witch!" Shakespeare gasped.
"Who would be next, hmm? Just one touch. Oh, oh, I'll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals," the witch cackled, advancing on them.
"Let us out! Let us out!" Martha screamed at the door.
"That's not gonna work," Rose said quietly. "The whole building's shouting that."
"Who will die first, hmm?" the witch asked, turning toward Rose first.
The Doctor saw her intent and hurriedly stepped forward. "Well, if you're looking for volunteers."
"No! Don't!" Martha shouted at him.
The playwright asked, "Doctor, can you stop her?"
The witch scoffed. "No mortal has power over me."
The Time Lord smirked. "Oh, but there's a power in words. If I can find the right one — if I can just know you..."
"None on Earth has knowledge of us!"
"Then it's a good thing I'm here. Now think, think, think... Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy... ah, 14! That's it! 14! The 14 stars of the Rexel planetary configuration! Creature, I name you Carrionite!"
He pointed at her as he said it and the creature wailed at being thwarted before disappearing.
Martha gaped. "What did you do?"
"I named her," he answered, taking Rose into his arms again. "The power of a name. That's old magic."
"But you said there's no such thing as magic," Rose said to him, hugging him tight.
"Well, it's just a different sort of science. You lot, you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom. Carrionites use words instead."
Shakespeare stared at the body of a man who had been a friend. "Use them for what?"
"The end of the world," the Doctor replied flatly.
Later, when they had returned to the inn, the Doctor was explaining a few things to the other three as they prepared for that evening's play.
"The Carrionites disappeared way back at the dawn of the universe. Nobody was sure if they were real or legend."
The author almost laughed. "Well, I'm going for real."
Martha shook her head. "But what do they want?"
"Same thing all the alien invaders we meet want," Rose said a bit bitterly. "A new empire on Earth."
The Doctor sat next to her, taking her hand. "A world of bones and blood and witchcraft."
"But how?" the black woman asked, horrified at the mental image they provoked.
The Doctor turned to face Shakespeare, "I'm looking at the man with the words."
"Me? But I've done nothing," the playwright exclaimed.
"Hold on, though. What were you doing last night, when that Carrionite was in the room?" Rose asked, sitting up straight.
"Finishing the play."
"What happens on the last page?" the Doctor asked him, catching onto his Rose's thought.
Shakespeare shrugged. "The boys get the girls. They have a bit of a dance. It's all as funny and thought provoking as usual — except those last few lines. Funny thing is... I don't actually remember writing them."
The Doctor jumped to his feet. "That's it. They used you. They gave you the final words. Like a spell, like a code. 'Love's Labours Won' — it's a weapon! The right combination of words, spoken at the right place with the shape of the Globe as an energy converter! The play's the thing! And yes, you can have that."
Rose moves to the desk and pulled out a map, looking it over."There, All Hallows Street. Martha and I can track them down. Doctor, you get to the Globe."
"I think not," the Doctor said darkly. "You really think I'm going to let you do that?"
"We have to…"
He pulled her to his chest and kissed her possessively, leaving her knees just a bit wobbly.
"Rose, I'm going with you to confront the Carrionites. Our new friend Will can stop his own play."
The Bard nodded. "I'll do it. All these years I've been the cleverest man around. Next to you, I know nothing."
Martha teased him a bit. "Oh, don't complain."
He shook his head with a grin. "I'm not. It's marvellous. Good luck, Doctor."
The Time Lord nodded and gave the human man a small smile. "Good luck, Shakespeare. Once more unto the breach!"
The author smiled. "I like that. Wait a minute... that's one of mine."
Just before the Doctor pulled her out the door, Rose winked. "Oh, just shift!"
The three time travelers ran at full tilt through the streets until they found the one they'd been searching for.
"All Hallows Street, but which house?" the Doctor asked, looking around.
Martha shook her head, "The thing is, though... am I missing something here? The world didn't end in 1599. It just didn't. Look at me — I'm living proof."
The Doctor frowned. "Oh, how to explain the mechanics of the infinite temporal flux?"
Rose patted his arm. "No fear, love. I know! 'Back to the Future'! It's like 'Back to the Future'!"
"The film?" he blinked.
She laughed. "No, the novelisation. Yes, the film. Marty McFly goes back and changes history."
Martha grinned. "Love that film. Classic. And he starts fading away… Oh my God, am I gonna fade?"
"You and the entire future of the human race," the Doctor confirmed. "It ends right now in 1599 if we don't stop it. But which house?"
A door slowly opens.
"Make that WITCH house," Rose said, pointing.
They enter the house, finding the maid from the inn standing there.
The doctor raised an eyebrow. "I take it we're expected."
"Oh, I think Death has been waiting for you a very long time," the woman said softly.
"Right then, it's my turn," Martha said, stepping forward and pointing at the woman. I know how to do this. I name thee, Carrionite!"
The woman just stood there, tipping her head in cold amusement.
"What did I do wrong? Was it the finger?" she asked.
"The power of a name works only once. Observe," the witch said smugly, lifting her hand to point at Martha. "I gaze upon this bag of bones and now I name thee Martha Jones."
Martha collapsed instantly and the Doctor caught her and lowered her to the ground.
"What have you done?" he asked in a horrified tone.
"Only sleeping, alas. Curious, the name has less impact. She's somehow out of her time. And as for you, Sir Doctor!" She pointed, expecting a reaction. "Fascinating. There is no name. Why would a man hide his title in such despair? Oh, but look. There's still one word with the power that aches."
"The naming won't work on me."
Rose reached for him, not liking where this was going at all.
"But your heart grows cold. The north wind blows and carries down the distant... Rose," the named woman gave a soft cry and collapsed also.
The Doctor spun, his eyes glowing with a fierce fire. How DARE this creature attack his Rose?!
He turned to the witch, "Oh, big mistake 'cos that name will forever keep me fighting! The Carrionites vanished! Where did you go?"
"The Eternals found the right word to banish us into deep darkness," the Carrionite sneered.
"And how did you escape?"
"New words. New and glittering from a mind like no other," she grinned triumphantly.
"Shakespeare," he said.
Rose stirred a bit, a warmth spreading throughout her extremities.
"His son perished," the witch said. "The grief of a genius. Grief without measure. Madness enough to allow us entrance."
"How many of you?" the Doctor asked, looking for something to stop her.
"Just the three. 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 to the old ways of blood and magic."
"Hmm... busy schedule... but first you gotta get past me."
Rose opened her eyes to see the Doctor standing almost nose-to-nose with the Carrionite. Her eyes swirled with the gold of Bad Wolf.
The witch cooed seductively and trailed her fingers down the side of his face. "Oh, that should be a pleasure considering my enemy has such a handsome shape."
Rose was insanely happy when the Doctor chuckled. "Now, that's one form of magic that's definitely not gonna work on me."
The woman on the floor rolled over.
"Oh, we'll see," the Carrionite smirked as she yanked a lock of hair from his head and backed away.
"What did you do?"he asked, touching the spot.
"Souvenir."
He shook his head. "Well, give it back!"
The witch threw her arms up and the window behind her burst open. She flew out backwards, levitating outside.
The Doctor rushed to the sill and stopped. "Well, that's just cheating."
She cackled. "Behold, Doctor. Men to Carrionites are nothing but puppets."
She pulled out a doll and wrapped his hair about it. Rose pushed herself to her knees as Martha stirred a bit.
Ignoring the taunt, the Doctor said, "Now, you might call that magic... I'd call that a DNA replication module."
"What use is your science now?" the witch demanded as she stabbed the doll.
The Doctor let out a cry and fell to the floor as the Carrionite cackle and flew away. Rose gasped and scrambled to the Doctor, as Martha sat up.
"Doctor! Don't worry, I've got you," Rose said, cradling him. "You have -got- to stop doing this to me!"
Martha moves over to her friends' side. "Did she...?"
"She stabbed only once," Rose said by way of answer.
"You're making a habit of this," the Doctor grinned at his love. "Aahh! I've only got one heart working. How do you people cope? I've got to get the other one started. Hit me! Hit me on the chest!"
Martha raised a hand but Rose stopped her.
"I can do it faster," she said, an almost echo to her voice. She placed her hand on his chest and her eyes flared gold along with her hand. A shock of sorts passed into him, making him gasp and sit up.
Martha looked at Rose with wide eyes. "I thought you were human!"
"I am!" Rose said, blinking her eyes back to their normal hazel. "Well... I... was..."
"There we go! Ba-da-boom!" the Doctor smiled, reaching for Rose's hand. "She is human, Martha. Wonderfully, perfectly human. She just did something silly with a little thing called a time vortex and now her cells are mutating slightly so the bit left in her doesn't kill her in a very painful way."
Rose cringed as she stood, realizing how that must sound to Martha.
To her surprise, Martha nodded, and teased her a bit. "Oh. Well, remind me to stay away from the time vortex, then. I don't think I could explain glowing eyes and hands."
Rose laughed, relieved and hugged Martha.
"Well, what are you standing there for? Come on! The Globe!" the Doctor smiled, taking Rose's hand and rushing out of the room.
As they ran through the streets, the three of them could hear screaming, and there was a red glow of energy pouring from the Globe. The preacher from when they first arrived was there, pointing at them.
"I told thee so! I told thee!"
"Stage door!" the Doctor yelled, dragging Rose onward. Martha rushed just behind them, wondering how they managed all this running all the time.
Thunderclouds and lightening formed over the Globe mixing with the red glow, and the exits sealed themselves just after the time travelers burst in backstage to find Shakespeare nursing his head.
"Stop the play!" said the Doctor. "I think that was it. Yeah, I said, "Stop the play"!"
"I hit my head," the man on the floor winced.
"Yeah, don't rub it, you'll go bald."
Rose elbowed the Doctor as they heard screams from out front. "I think that's our cue!"
They ran out to the stage and Martha grabbed Shakespeare's hand and they followed.
"Now begins the millennium of blood!" the Carrionites cackled, holding a crystal aloft as the four rushed the stage. "The Doctor! He lives! Then watch this world become a blasted heath! They come! They come!"
The remaining Carrionites recently freed from the crystal flew about the Globe.
The Doctor spun and grabbed Shakespeare's shoulders. "Come on, Will! History needs you!"
"But what can I do?" he asked, visibly shaken.
"Reverse it!" Rose encouraged.
"Dear lady, just 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!" the Doctor shouted.
The author floundered. "But what words? I have none ready!"
"You're William Shakespeare!" Martha prodded him.
"But these Carrionite phrases, the need such precision!"
The Doctor was serioius and deadly as he looked into the other man's eyes. "Trust yourself. When you're locked away in your room, the words just come, don't they? Like magic. Words of 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!"
Taking a deep breath, he nodded and stepped forward. "Close up this den 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!"
"Doting?" Rose smirked to her Doctor.
The witch masquerading as a maid shrieked. "No! Words of power!"
He continued on, "Foul Carrionite spectres, cease your show! Between the points..."
He looked to the Doctor.
"7-6-1-3-9-0!" the Doctor supplied coordinates.
"7-6-1-3-9-0! And banished like a tinker's cuss, I say to thee..."
Again, he looked to the Doctor who was at a loss this time.
Martha shouted out. "Expelliarmus!"
Rose echoed with a grin, "Expelliarmus!"
The authot shrugged and pointed at the three witches, "Expelliarmus!"
"Good old JK!" the Doctor laughed as the Carrionites screamed.
"The deep darkness! They are consumed! Ahhh!" The wraith-like carrionites were sucked into the cloud, tornado fashion, as were copies of the play.
The Doctor moved to pull Rose safely to his side, wishing he could keep her that way always. "'Love's Labours Won'. There it goes."
The cloud dissipated and the cowering audience sighed almost as one in relief, then began applauding. The Doctor ducked out with Rose as Shakespeare, Martha and the actors take their bows.
"They think it was all special effects," Martha said in wonder.
The man next to her grinned. "Your effect is special indeed."
She shook her head at him. "It's not your best line."
Martha and Shakespeare took their bows as well. The Doctor and Rose went to the Carrionite's box where they found the crystal within which the three were trapped.
Rose looked at the crystal with a thoughtful expression.
"They can't escape," the Doctor told her softly.
"I'm not worried about that," she told him. "It's just… I really didn't like how they nearly killed you. Had she known about you having two hearts, you wouldn't have had a chance to regenerate…"
He nodded. "Have I thanked you yet for that?"
She sighed. "I don't like doing it."
"I don't like you having to," he admitted. "But it seems to be getting easier for you to call power you shouldn't be able to call, have you noticed?"
She gave him a look that said she obviously had noticed and asked him sarcastically, "No! You mean my hands don't normally glow gold and send out electrostatic pulses?"
She blinked. How had she known it was an electrostatic pulse?
"My Rose," the Doctor said softly, circling his arms around her again. "You're still my wonderful, beloved pink and yellow human, and I'm still keeping you close and as safe as I can."
She smiled up at him. "Even if I turn out as some sort of crazy brilliant glowworm?"
He laughed and kissed her. "Even then."
By the next morning, the four of them met back at the Globe, Martha and Shakespeare were chatting as they sat at the edge of the stage, while the Doctor rummaged around backstage. Rose seemed quiet and withdrawn a bit, and Martha made a mental note to talk to her later, but at that moment, Shakespeare was telling her a joke.
"…and I say, a heart for a hart and a dear for a deer."
She shook her head. "I don't get it."
"Then give me a joke from Freedonia," he laughed easily.
She shrugged. "OK, Shakespeare walks into a pub and the landlord says "oi, mate, you're bard"."
"It's brilliant! Doesn't make sense, mind you, but never mind that." He wrapped his hands about her waist. "Come here."
"I've only just met you," she said, pulling back a bit.
"The Doctor might never kiss you. Why not entertain a man who will?"
Rose looked up at that, narrowing her eyes. Did Martha want her Doctor? Had she missed that somehow?
The black woman laughed at Shakespeare's antics. "I don't know how to tell you this, oh great genius, but your breath doesn't half stink. And it's not like that with the Doctor. You saw him with Rose. That's a beautiful thing, and I'd be some kind of monster to try and get between them."
The Doctor chose that moment to emerge from backstage wearing a ruff collar and carrying an animal skull. He looked at Rose first, an eager look on his face as he tried to make her smile.
"Good props store back there! I'm not sure about this though." He held up a skull. "Remind you of a Sycorax?"
"Sycorax. Nice word. I'll have that off you as well," the Bard grinned.
"I should be on 10%. How's your head?" the doctor asked.
"Still aching."
The Doctor nodded and tossed the skull back toward the wings for someone else to put away. He moved over to Shakespeare and unclasps the collar, putting it on the playwright instead. "Here, I got you this. Neck brace. Wear that for a few days till it's better, although you might wanna keep it. It suits you."
Rose moved to his side, taking his hand. "What about the play?"
"Gone. I looked all over — every single copy of 'Love's Labours' Won went up in the sky," he gave her hand a squeeze. She'd been withdrawn since the Bad Wolf incident last night, and he wanted his Rose smiling and happy again.
"My lost masterpiece," Shakespeare lamented.
Martha nudged him with her shoulder. "You could write it up again."
"Yeah, better not, Will. There's still power in those words. Maybe it should best stay forgotten," the Doctor hedged.
The author nodded. "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 echoed.
The man nodded easily. "That's him."
The medical student clarified, "Ham-NET?"
Catching her tone, the man demanded, "What's wrong with that?"
"Anyway!" the Doctor exclaimed, changing the subject. "Time we were off. We've got a nice attic in the TARDIS where this lot can scream for all eternity and we've gotta take Martha back to Freedonia."
Shakespeare shook his head with a grin. "You mean travel on through time and space."
"You what?" Rose asked, surprised.
"The Doctor is from another world like the Carrionites and Martha is from the future. Rose, you are the only hard one to work out."
She blinked and looked at the Doctor.
He hugged her close. "That's... incredible. You are incredible."
"No fear, Rose, it matters not where you're from if you are certain where you're going. Martha, let me say goodbye to you in a new verse. A sonnet for my Dark Lady. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate—-
One of the actors rushed into the theater, crying, "Will! Will! You'll never believe it! She's here! She's turned up!"
Another actor burst in just behind him. "We're the talk of the town. She heard about last night! She wants us to perform it again."
"Who?
The second actor shouted. "Her Majesty! She's here!"
There was a flourish of fanfare as Elizabeth I entered with her guards.
The Doctor crowed, "Queen Elizabeth I!"
"Doctor!" the Queen shouted, not at all please to see him.
Martha jumped to her feet, looking at the Doctor and Rose in alarm.
The Doctor's face fell. "What?"
Rose laughed.
"My sworn enemy!" the Queen declared.
"What?" the Doctor said again.
"Love, now may not be the time," Rose said, still laughing. The Doctor couldn't help but feel better at the sound of her laughter. He missed that sound when it was gone.
Her Majesty didn't seem as impressed. "Off with his head!
"What?"
"Never mind "what", just run!" Martha shouted. "See you, Will! And thanks!"
The ran for the TARDIS, laughing about another person after the Doctor.
"Stop that pernicious Doctor!" came the cry after them.
Shakespeare laughed as they disappeared.
"Stop in the name of the Queen!" a soldier called.
"What have you done to upset her?!" Martha cried.
"How should I know?" the Doctor laughed."Haven't even met her yet. That's time travel for you! Still, can't wait to find out."
Rose grinned, pulling him into the TARDIS. "That's something to look forward to."
He ducked inside as archers fired, embedding an arrow in the door. Kissing her happily, he darted to the console and took them off to another destination.
A/N: Another episode down! For some reason this one was hard, so I hope it came out well for you all. Please leave a review letting me know how I'm doing? I'd hate to think I was disappointing all of you who are being so kind and reading my work.
