Cass shook her head when she felt the TARDIS shaking roughly, barely managing to grab ahold of a chest of drawers to keep from stumbling to the floor.
The Doctor was piloting the clever girl on his own today, seeing as she'd been hit with the urge to dress appropriately for the era they were visiting, an impulse that didn't strike her all that much, but that she always fully enjoyed when it did nonetheless.
Tying the ribbons on the corset she donned, she blushed lightly, remembering what had occurred the last time she'd worn one of these, before bunching her hair into an elaborate up-do, pinning it in place, with only a few, wayward curls framing her face.
But when she felt the machine jolting again, she rolled her eyes, a small, fond smile painting itself on her face as she picked up her hem, hurrying through the corridors and reaching the main console right as Martha asked, "Blimey! Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?"
"Yep," Cass chuckled, enjoying the flash of surprise and desire she felt coursing through her when her tether noticed her appearance, but ignoring him for the moment, choosing to focus on the human instead, smirking happily as she reached his side, "And Mister Big-Head over here failed it. Catastrophically."
Martha chuckled, the sound rising in volume when she realised the awe-struck look the Doctor had on his face, as he stared at his wife.
Blimey, she looked...divine. Her hair was up in some kind of braided bun, with enough strands hanging around her face to tease him, and the rest of her...his tether really enjoyed teasing him, didn't she?
She'd dressed in a white and green gown, the colours suiting her perfectly, the billowing white sleeves and overlaid corseted top making her look near-angelic in nature, while her exposed neck and collarbones teased him mercilessly.
Wrapping a hand around her waist, he pulled her closer, fingers reaching for the strings of the garment and tugging on them lightly, murmuring flirtatiously, "Corsets again? I thought you'd sworn no more after last time?"
Her skin flushed delightfully, and he'd had to physically withhold the groan he wanted to let out when she bit her lip, memories of the last time she'd worn such a thing flooding his head when she simply snarked back, "Well this time, I've got you to take it off for me."
Grinning, he shivered lightly at her own bolt of desire as she remembered, before reaching down to her hand, the one now bearing his ring proudly, and lifting it to his lips, whispering, "impossible, wicked creature," into it as he kissed it.
Cass smiled happily, cupping his cheek, "jealous, possessive Time Lord."
Grabbing his coat off one of the corals, he watched as she threw Martha her jacket, before beginning to lead them to the door, continuing what he'd been about to say to the human, before his tether had fried his thoughts, "Now, make the most of it. We promised you one trip and one trip only. Outside this door..." he stopped at the door, turning to face the excited human with a mischievous grin, "Brave new world."
"Where are we?"
The redhead reached behind her, brushing a light finger over the door, grinning smugly at her tether when it gently opened, before waving her free arm, smirking, "After you, m'lady," As Martha walked out, they both followed, the Doc immediately placing his hand around Cass' waist the instant he noticed a couple of men straying their gazes to her.
"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?"
Both aliens chuckled at her enthusiasm, before Cass quickly reached for her arm, tugging her aside right as someone emptied a chamber pot from a window, yelling, "Mind the loo!"
"Somewhere before the invention of the toilet." The Doctor mumbled, smiling sheepishly, "Sorry about that."
Martha shrugged, "I've seen worse. I've worked the late night shift at A&E." She watched as he quickly tugged Cass back into his grasp, smirking at his narrow-eyed glare to any man that watched her for a second too long, before following after them as they walked, asking, "But are we safe? I mean, can we move around and stuff?"
"'Course we can," he shrugged, confused, "Why do you ask?"
Cass though, understood. After all, she'd had some of the same fears when she'd first landed here. Turning her head, she hooked her elbow through Martha's happily, before quickly explaining, "The Butterly Effect is mainly literary theoretical, a tool used by philosophers and thinkers to try and explain the potential effects of time travel. In reality, Time rewrites itself constantly. Things will shift and move to ensure that certain events in history, ones our people referred to as 'Fixed Points' in time will always occur, no matter what little details change, so don't worry about that." Noticing her mouth opening to cut her off, she shot her a knowing smirk, adding, "And don't worry about inadvertently changing one of those either, we'd both know and stop you."
Martha nodded, smiling as the Doc added jokingly, "And tell you what then, don't step on any butterflies. What have butterflies ever done to you?"
Looking at his tether, he spoke into her mind, you're good at this bit. The explaining in a way they'd understand.
I get it. I was terrified of changing things when I first got here, remember? Plus, I've spent so much time in human academic circles that I just learned how to pass the knowledge on. She replied happily, smile growing when he pressed a small kiss to the top of her head, sighing somewhat into it when Martha asked again, "What if, I dunno, what if I kill my grandfather?"
The redhead turned to her with a small smile, as he raised his brows, "You planning to?"
"No."
"Well, then."
She nodded, looking around excitedly, "This is London."
"I think so. Right about 1599."
"'98," his tether corrected quickly, smirking when she realised that her time-senses had righted themselves again. She'd always been very good at this, realising where in time she was, what year exactly.
"Oh, but hold on. Am I all right? I'm not gonna get carted off as a slave, am I?" The human questioned in a panic.
The Time Lord looked at her, confused, "Why would they do that?"
"Not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed." She gestured to her face.
Cass chuckled, "Martha, we're not even human. Just walk around like you own the place, and everyone around you will assume you do."
"Besides, you'd be surprised." The Doc added, "Elizabethan England, not so different from your time. Look over there." He pointed towards a man shovelling what looked and smelled like manure. "They've got recycling."
Cass titled her head towards a group of men talking animatedly beside a water barrel, "Water-cooler moment."
"... and the world will be consumed by flame!" A preacher yelled as they walked back, the Doctor nodding towards him and whispering, "Global warming."
When they finally came to a stop, it was in front of a large building with fourteen sides, and Cass couldn't contain her squeal of excitement anymore, a large, very happy grin painting itself on her face, "And entertainment. Aka, the thing I'm most excited about and the reason my husband is getting laid tonight, because he knew I'd adore this..." she smirked smugly when she heard Martha laugh, and felt the shock and bashfulness radiate from him, but she gestured towards the building, babbling excitedly, "The Globe Theatre. Built in a tetradecagon formation; fourteen sides. Just opened, brand, spanking new, and containing the man, the myth, the legend himself!"
The human's eyes widened, "Whoa, you don't mean... is Shakespeare in there?"
Cass nodded, grinning widely, jumping up and down lightly on her toes, and the Doctor's smile softened, this was what he always wanted for her. To see her eyes lit up with happiness, her excitement and joy thrumming through their veins.
He'd meant what he'd thought earlier. His tether, she'd suffered enough in her life. Now, he'd make damn sure all she felt was happiness. He'd give her everything she wanted, make every dream he could come true.
Starting with this one, because he'd remembered how much she'd spoken about Shakespeare when he'd been in his regenerative coma.
Raising her left hand to his lips, he kissed it tenderly, asking, "Now, Mrs Smith," he glanced up at Martha, grinning when he noticed her elbow already hooked through Cass, "Miss Jones. Will you both accompany me to the theatre?"
"Certainly, Mr Smith," his tether smiled, finger running over his knuckles tenderly, as Martha giggled, nodding, "Yes, Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith, I do believe I will."
"When you get home, you can tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare."
The redhead snorted, "Sure, if she wants to be checked into the nearest hospital for a psychiatric evaluation!"
—
They stood in the middle of a packed house, everyone applauding and cheering as the actors onstage took their bows.
"That's amazing! Just amazing." Martha gasped happily, "It's worth putting up with the smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah?"
"London never changes," The Doctor mused happily, the smile not leaving his face for an instant as he kept feeling the joy and excitement thrumming through his tether.
"Where's Shakespeare? I wanna see Shakespeare." The human stated, raising her fist in the air and crying, "Author! Author!"
When they both looked at her, she added, somewhat meekly, "Do people shout that? Do they shout 'Author'?"
Before either of them could answer, however, the crowd around them picked up the chant, fists rising in the air, crying for the masterful playwright to make his presence known.
Cass grinned, winking at Martha happily, "Well if they didn't, they certainly do now. Look at you, you trend-setter!"
Just then, a man jumped on stage, giving an exaggerated bow and blowing kisses left and right to the boisterous crowd.
The redhead squealed happily, jumping in place at the sight, as Martha remarked casually, smiling at the wonder in the alien's eyes as she looked at Shakespeare, "He's a bit different from his portraits."
"He's a genius!" Cass gasped, "THE literary genius. Writes the greatest words with such mastery that they hit you exactly in the hearts. He's the reason I fell in love with books and literature in the first place."
Her tether nodded, tugging her back to his chest, arms wrapping happily around her middle as he nuzzled her temples, "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."
"Shut your big fat mouths!" Shakespeare cried smugly, and the Time Lord defeated, sighing, "Oh well," as Cass turned to shoot him a knowing grin, "They do say 'never meet your heroes', don't they honey?"
"You have excellent taste! I'll give you that." The playwright continued, pointing to a man in the audience, "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 began bowing, only to straighten up again suddenly, adding, in a nearly robotic voice, "When? Tomorrow night. The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it 'Loves Labour's Won'!"
In the audience, the Doc frowned, as in his head, Cass sighed in amusement, Something always has to go wrong when we're around, doesn't it?
I'm sorry love. He whispered back, slightly disheartened by the turn of events, fearing her disappointment, only to look at her strangely when he felt a hum of excitement thrumming through him.
Cass grinned, shaking her head, I'm not. I get Shakespeare and an adventure. You're getting rewarded handsomely tonight, Time Lord. Hope you know that.
—
"I'm not an expert," Martha commented as they left the theatre, "but I've never heard of 'Loves Labour's Won'."
"That's because it doesn't exist," Cass explained, "It's been called 'the lost play' in academic circles. Appears on a couple of lists, but no manuscripts have ever been found."
"And no one knows why." The Doctor finished.
The human perked up, turning to them with wide eyes, though her voice had a joking tone to it,"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 looked at her, aghast as he shook his head.
"That would be bad?"
"Oh, totally." Cass grinned, having noticed the amusement in the other woman's eyes, "And then you can have the entirety of the internet up your ass for faking a Shakespeare play."
They laughed, as Martha asked, "Well, how come it disappeared in the first place?"
"Well, I was just gonna give you a quick little trip in the TARDIS but I suppose we could stay a bit longer." The Doctor hummed thoughtfully, and Cass grinned, "This day is the best! I get Shakespeare and a mystery to solve!"
—
They headed off to the Elephant Inn, where the Doctor had heard Shakespeare was staying.
Arriving at the room pointed to them, they knocked, opening the door right as the playwright was muttering, "I've just got the final scene to go. You'll get it by morning."
"Hello," the Doctor grinned, knocking merrily once more, before stepping into the room, both women following behind him, "Excuse me! I'm not interrupting, am I? Mr. Shakespeare, isn't it?"
William looked up at him, before sighing tiredly, beginning to shake 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..." His eyes moved sideways, to both Cass and Martha, who'd moved from behind the Time Lord to beside him, and they widened nearly comically, moving from one woman to the next quickly as he breathed, voice suddenly inviting, "Hey, nonny nonny. Sit right down here next to me." Looking at the two actors beside him, he waved them off, "You two get sewing on them costumes. Off you go."
"Come on lads," Dolly, the woman who'd led them in grinned knowingly, "I think our William's found his new muses."
Cass chuckled when she felt a flare of possessiveness from her tether, but couldn't help but smile somewhat charmingly, giggling when she noticed a similar grin on Martha's face.
He patted the chairs beside him, inviting the group of three to join, but as Cass was about to sit, she found herself pulled into her tether's lap, the Time Lord glaring meaningfully at him, his hand coming to rest on the now smirking redhead's stomach with possessive intent.
You don't need too scare him within an inch of his life honey. I think he gets that we're together now, she laughed in his head, biting into her lip when he growled back, every time. Every single time, it happens. What do I have to do, walk around with you in my arms?
Cass turned her head lightly, pressing a small kiss to his cheek, making sure her left hand was in full view, jealous, possessive Time Lord.
William raised his hands innocently, understanding the situation when he gleamed the shining diamond on the redheaded beauty's hand, and turned his full attention on Martha, smiling, "Sweet lady. Such unusual clothes. So... fitted."
"Err..." the human began, flustered, "verily, forsooth, egads."
"No, don't do that," the Doc whispered, shaking his head furtively, as Cass giggled in his arms. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the psychic paper, flashing it at the man confidently, "We're Sir Doctor and Lady Cassandra of TARDIS and this is our companion, Miss Martha Jones."
"Interesting, that bit of paper." Shakespeare murmured, eyeing it with interest, "It's blank."
Cass grinned happily, nodding, "Finally, someone else who can't see it! If anything, that's foul-proof proof that he's an absolute genius."
"No, it says so right there." Martha shook her head, leaning over to read the paper, "Sir Doctor, Lady Cassandra, Martha Jones. It says so."
"And I say it's blank." William said.
The redhead leaned closer to her, murmuring, "Psychic paper. Shows the person whatever you want them to see, except some minds are able to naturally see through the deception."
"Ahh," she nodded in understanding, as Shakespeare tilted his head curiously, "Psychic. Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you exactly? More's the point," he looked at the human, grinning lasciviously, "who is your delicious blackamoor lady?"
Martha's eyes widened in shock, "What did you say?" as Cass groaned, "Fuck me, I forgot about this..."
"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."
The Doctor sighed, nuzzling into his tether's neck, lips pressing a soft kiss to the skin there, as he mumbled, "It's political correctness gone mad." Looking up, he quickly explained, "Um, Martha's from a far-off land. Freedonia."
"Excuse me!" An older-looking man barged into the room, heading straight for the playwright and hissing furiously, "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."
William rolled his eyes, waving the man off, "Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it 'round."
"I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine. The script, now!"
"I can't."
"Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled."
"It's all go, 'round here, isn't it?" Martha hummed, as the man growled angrily, "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." Before turning on his heels and leaving the room.
"Well, then... mystery solved. That's 'Love's Labours Won' over and done with. Thought it might be something more, you know... more mysterious." The human murmured.
Cass groaned, shaking her head, "Fuck's sake, not you too! Now you've jinxed it. Every time, every single time anyone says something along those lines, disaster strikes."
And just like that, screams erupted from outside, propelling all four of them to rise and run towards them, the redhead breathing, "Like that!"
Exiting the inn, they found the older man from earlier, heaving water on the pavement.
"It's that Lynley bloke!" Martha yelled.
The Doctor ran towards him, yelling, "What's wrong with him? Leave it to me. I'm a doctor."
"So am I, near enough!" The human cried, running behind him, Cass following at a more measured pace, mumbling, "Double, double, toil and trouble."
Just as they'd reached him though, he'd collapsed to the ground, chest still. The Time Lord ran around the street to look around, as Martha and cass knelt beside the prone man, the former placing her ears to his chest, whilst the latter put two fingers on his neck, checking for his pulse.
"Gotta get the heart going. Mr Lynley, c'mon, can you hear me? You're gonna be all right." Martha huffed, inhaling deeply before leaning down to administer mouth-to-mouth, only for cass to pull her upright a second before water began gushing through the man's lips.
"What the hell is that?"
"I've never seen a death like it." The Doctor said as he rejoined them, pulling his tether into his side, "His lungs are full of water, he drowned and then... I dunno, like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow." Turning to Dolly, he stated, "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." She nodded, about to leave, only for a maid to stop her, saying, "I'll do it, ma'am."
Cass crouched back beside the body, eyes moving over it curiously as the events to come played over in her mind. From beside her, she could hear Martha asking indignantly, "And why are you telling them that?"
"Medicinal advances are still in the dark ages right now," she explained, "If we were to tell them the truth, they'd panic."
Her tether pulled her up, eyes staring into her own as he questioned softly, "And the truth is..."
"Spoiler: it's witchcraft."
—
"I got you a room, Sir Doctor." Dolly announced as they all stood in Shakespeare's room, "You, your lady and Miss Jones are just across the landing."
They nodded as she left, and the author sighed pitifully, "Poor Lynley. So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?"
Martha raised her chin proudly, "Where a woman can do what she likes."
He hummed, before turning to look at the Doctor, "And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have eyes so old?"
"I do a lot of reading." He replied back, tensing when the astute man turned his gaze to his tether, murmuring softly, "And you, Lady Cassandra. Your eyes tell me you have such knowledge, yet seem to be haunted by shadows."
The redhead swallowed, shooting the man a soft smile, "I have nightmares."
"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do." He grinned knowingly, before looking at Martha again, "And you, you look at them like you're surprised they exists. They're as much of a puzzle to you as they are to me."
The human bit her lip, beginning to head to the door, the other two following. "I think we should say good night."
As she left, Shakespeare nodded, "I must work. I have a play to complete. But I'll get my answers tomorrow, Doctor, Cassandra, and I'll discover more about you and why this constant performance of yours."
Unable to help herself, Cass smirked from the doorway, breathing, "All the world's a stage."
"Hm, I might use that. Good night."
"Nighty-night, Shakespeare." The Doctor murmured, exiting the room, the door closing behind them as he looked down at his Luna, asking, what did you mean, witchcraft? Witches don't exist.
Not all magic is glowing eyes and cauldrons Theta, she murmured back, try to remember some of the older lessons from the Academy.
—
Martha was examining the room when they entered.
"It's not exactly five-star, is it?" She chuckled, turning to them.
Cass smiled, shrugging, "It's not bad at all. Trust me, I've seen worse."
And she had. After all, her own room in the council's quarters had been smaller, at least towards the latter years.
"I haven't even got a toothbrush." The human shook her head in wonder.
The Doctor reached into his pocket, ruffling around, before pulling a toothbrush out victoriously, and handing it to her with a winning smile, "Ooh! Contains Venusian spearmint."
"So, who's going where? I mean, there's only one bed."
"We'll manage," he assured her, Cass nodding, "We'll squeeze in. I doubt we'll be getting a full night's sleep anyway, so no point for anyone to take the floor and have severe back pains after."
"But for now," he threw himself back on the mattress, smiling as his Luna squealed with surprise when he pulled her with him, dropping her on his chest. Snuggling deeper into him, she pressed a small kiss to his neck, her hand laying between his hearts, feeling the twin beats.
From her spot, Martha couldn't help but smile softly at the sight. These two...they really seemed to be made for each other. From what she'd witnessed so far, they complimented and completed each other in ways she didn't really understand just yet. And they just, exuded so much love for each other that you couldn't help but bask in its warmth whenever they were around.
In a way, she found herself feeling a sight twinge of jealousy.
Not because of who they were with respectively, she respected the fact that they were very clearly together and married, but rather, that they had each other, had that once-in-a-lifetime, read-about-it-only-in-fairytales and watch-it-in-movies love.
"So, magic and stuff. That's a surprise." She said, snapping them out of their haze, smirking when she noticed both of their cheeks flushing lightly, "It's a little bit 'Harry Potter'."
"Oh wait until you get to book seven," Cass groaned, "I sobbed. Actual, dry-heaving sobs. J.K Rowling is evil."
"But is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic and all that, it's real?"
"'Course it isn't," the Doctor huffed impatiently, only to look contrite when Cass turned to look at him with narrowed eyes, drawling sarcastically, "Well how should she know, honey? She's a human being, travelling with two aliens through time and space, in a tiny, bigger-on-the-inside 1960's phone box. It's a little magical in and of itself."
"Exactly!" Martha cried, smiling gratefully at the redhead.
She had a feeling she and Cass would wind up being great, great friends.
"Looks like witchcraft, but it isn't. Can't be." The Doctor murmured thoughtfully, tugging his tether back into his chest, before raising an innocently curious brow at their companion, "Are you gonna stand there all night?"
"Well, budge up then," she shrugged, smirking as she took a seat, and Cass asked him, "Are you gonna let me go at any point? Or am I sleeping on top of you?"
"Nope."
The Time Lady rolled her eyes, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and turning to lay her head over his chest, smirking at Martha, "I swear to you, if he could physically deposit me inside his chest cavity so I'd never leave his side, I firmly believe he would."
The human giggled, slipping into bed beside them, and joking, "Us three in here, tongues will wag."
"Oh yeah, we're the really kinky married couple who likes company in bed." Cass wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, giggling along with Martha at the prospect, "The shame of it all!"
Her tether thought out loud, oblivious to their jokes, "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 we're missing, Martha. Something really close, staring us right in the face and we can't see it. Rose would know. A friend of ours, Rose. Right now, she'd say exactly the right thing. Still, can't be helped. You're a novice, never mind. We'll take you back home tomorrow."
Cass rolled her eyes at his obliviousness, especially when she spotted the hurt look on Martha's face, before saying, "I disagree. There's no guarantee that Rose would have known anything. As much as I love my little sister, she was human, and she was young. Martha's a doctor, older...I have a feeling it won't be long before she shows us just how incredible she is!"
The other woman smiled softly at the words, touched by Cass' faith in her, before murmuring a soft "thank you," and closing her eyes, sleep overtaking her.
Inside her head, the redhead heard the Doctor ask, do you really think so?
Theta, she sighed softly, I know so. Humans are all guns a'blazing and incredible, but time travel, it takes experience, and Rosie, she was just as reckless as you. Martha's more cautious, thinks before she acts, likely because she's older. Trust me, it'll be good to have someone like that around. Peering up at him, she grinned lightly, adding in a joking tone, I can't be expected to keep you safe all by myself, you're a full-time job honey.
His hand reached for her hair, tugging the pins holding it up out, and running through the strands until they tumbled down her back, wrapping around his wrist like silk. Softly stroking her scalp, he sighed, I suppose you're right, though I still don't want a companion right now. I'd rather it just be you and me. A wicked smirk painted itself on his lips, as he said in a seductive voice, I still haven't bent you over the console. Or the Time Rotor, or even the jump-seat.
Chuckling lightly when he heard her muffled groan at the images he'd painted, he pressed his lips to the top of her head when she huffed, You're evil, Theta. I was hoping from some sleep, and now that won't happen.
Patience, Luna. I'll tire you out eventually.
—
They'd been talking to each other through their bond peacefully, revelling in those moments where they didn't have to run or save the day, but could just simply exist together. Lay in each other's arms in the dark, Cass nestled into the crook of his neck, the Doctor's hands weaving through her hair, just being.
Unfortunately though, their moments of peace never seemed to last very long, when someone screamed very loudly, right outside their room.
Immediately, the couple jumped up, running towards the door, both aware that Martha had followed after them, hurrying down the stairs and barging loudly into the playwright's room, waking him when the door banged.
"Wha'? What was that?" He slurred in surprise, quieting when he noticed them kneeling by the innkeeper, Dolly Bailey's prone body, Martha standing wide-eyed by the window.
"Her heart gave out. She died of fright." Cass muttered solemnly, reaching down to gently close the woman eyes.
From her perch by the window, Martha called, "Doctor? Cass?"
"What did you see?" He asked as he joined her, still keeping an eye on his tether by the body.
"A witch."
—
The three were sitting by Shakespeare's desk, listening as he lamented the most recent death mournfully, "Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey. 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, smiling lightly when he heard Cass snort from beside him.
The writer's brows rose in intrigue, and he hummed, "I might use that."
"You can't," the redhead smirked slyly, "It's someone else's."
Martha shook her head, bringing them all back to the topic at hand, looking at William curiously, "But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright and they were both connected to you."
"You're accusing me?!"
"No, but I saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches." She huffed in exasperation.
Cass shook her head quickly, murmuring, "He hasn't, not yet at least." Right as the writer whispered, "I have? When was that?"
Shaking his head, he moved past that comment, saying instead, "Peter Streete spoke of witches."
"Who's Peter Streete?" Martha questioned, as Cass' eyes grew in realisation.
Looking at her tether, she murmured into his mind, Peter Streete was credited as being the Globe's original creator. He sketched out the original plans before succumbing to madness.
His own jaw dropped slightly, and he stood up, pulling the redhead with him, muttering manically, "The architect. Hold on. The architect! The architect!" Slamming his fist on the table, he ran to the door, yelling to the other two, "The Globe! Come on!"
—
The couple stood in the theatre's pit, while Will and Martha were onstage.
"The columns there, right? 14 sides." The Doctor pointed, "I've always wondered but I never asked..." looking at the writer, he asked, "tell me, Will, why 14 sides?"
"It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all." The man shrugged, "Said it carried the sound well."
"Why does that ring a bell? 14..." the Time Lord murmured thoughtfully.
"There are 14 lines in a sonnet." Martha suggested helpfully.
He nodded, "So there is. Good point. Words and shapes following the same design." He began to pace, mumbling under his breath, "14 lines, 14 sides, 14 facets...Oh, my head. Tetradecagon... think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!"
Cass' head tilted curiously, eyes narrowed in thought, as Shakespeare said, "This is just a theatre."
The redhead's eyes widened in realisation, and she gasped, "But that's exactly it! A theatre, a place where words become magic! 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..." the Doc murmured, looking at her in slight awe as her thought process filtered into his own head, realising the idea she'd been harbouring.
Martha gasped, "It's like your police box. Small wooden box with all that power inside."
"Exactly!" The Time Lady smiled proudly, as beside her, her tether nodded, grinning, "Oh, Martha Jones, I like you. Tell you what, though. Peter Streete would know." Turning his eyes to Shakespeare, he continued, weaving his fingers through his wife's, "Can we talk to him?"
The playwright visibly deflated, shaking his head, as a pang of pity ran through Cass, "You won't get an answer. A month after finishing this place... lost his mind."
"Why? What happened?" The human questioned softly.
"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled."
"Where is he now?"
"Bedlam."
"What's Bedlam?"
Cass swallowed, "Formerly Bethlem Royal Hospital. It's London's most horrifying and torturous insane asylum."
Her heart had dropped at the mention, pity crashing through her for the man. She'd never been put in an asylum, per-say, but her little room back on Gallifrey wasn't much better, nor more humane in any way. Cass had been locked up and tortured for the things she saw and heard, she'd be damned if she allowed the fate to fall on another and not help, especially when Peter Streete's insanity was a direct result of extraterrestrial influence.
Turning to her tether, she steeled her shoulders, muttering angrily, "We're going there, right now. I don't care what else happens, we're not leaving that man in there because of whatever forces played with his mind, no fucking way in hell."
He nodded, jaw tensing in anger when her memories and reason filtered through him, before following after her, both aware of Martha's running footsteps, and William's yell of, "We're gonna go there. Right now. Come on."
