Chapter Six: Meeting the Genius.
Series: Three.
Episode: Two - Shakespeare Code.
Part: One.
Martha woke slowly the next morning, unaccustomed to the quiet of the TARDIS, it took her a moment to realise why there wasn't any morning light or London traffic drifting through her windows. Before she remembered she'd run away with an alien with a time machine and his sort-of-human-not-girlfriend-companion.
She sat up bleary eyed, she rubbed at her eyes as she tried to focus on her surroundings. As she did so, the lights slowly lit the room in a dim glow, enough for her to see without being too bright for first thing in the morning.
The room they'd found for her was painted in the same shade of blue as her flat, it had shocked her at first and she'd asked Rose how that was possible when the blonde seemed adamant that this was ' her room'. Apparently not only could it travel through time but it was also sentient and telepathic and had known what she'd wanted in a room and had constructed it off of that.
Rose had laughed at her bewildered expression and told her that eventually you got used to it but if she ever heard the Doctor start rambling in alien technobabble that she didn't understand it was best to just nod along or she'd never escape the conversation.
Aside from the colour scheme the room was vastly different from her bedroom back home. The ensuite for starters was far more luxurious than the cupboard sized bathroom back in her apartment. Rose had told her that there should be sleepwear in the wardrobe and her outfit would be washed while she was asleep. Martha didn't ask how that would happen, content to follow Rose's advice and not ask. But there was her outfit from last night draped over the desk chair crease free and fresh smelling. And she didn't know what the mattress was made of but she wanted one for her flat because that was the best night sleep she'd had in… well ever.
Martha pushed herself up, staggering to the bathroom still not completely awake. Fresh faced and dressed she exited her room determined to hunt down the rest of the ship's occupants. But it wasn't until she was standing in the corridor that she realised she had no idea which turnings they'd taken to get here last night. Rose had seemed to lead her down corridors aimlessly while still managing to find the room they needed.
Refusing to let this ruin the good mood she'd woken up in, Martha headed down the corridor she thought they'd taken the night before. But after ten minutes of wandering and opening doors at random - Rose had mentioned that any rooms she wasn't supposed to enter would be locked so not to worry about opening the wrong door - she seemed to be no closer to finding the Doctor or Rose.
"Hey, there you are. We were wondering where you'd gotten to."
She looked up to find Rose standing there with a smile. At Martha's confused face, Rose threw an exasperated sigh at the ceiling but she didn't miss the slight amused smile on her lips.
"She been making you run in circles, has she?"
"Who? How did you find me?"
"The TARDIS. She can move corridors and rooms around. Don't worry she's just playing, you won't ever actually get lost in here. C'mon, come get some breakfast." Rose said simply before turning back the way she came as if the whole thing was completely normal, though Martha, supposed it probably was for her. And if a small wooden box could have a whole world stuffed inside of it and create rooms in under an hour to suit it's inhabitants wants and needs, of course it could also move things around.
"How come we needed to take so many turns last night then?" Martha asked catching up with her.
"She was giving me the time to explain a few things to you as well as wanting to get the room right before you found it."
"You keep saying 'she' is that like the way that blokes always call ships she or is it because of the whole sentient thing?"
"Because of the sentient thing, though now you mention it might be a bit of both. Hmm, never thought about that." She looked thoughtful for a second before shaking her head and pulling open the door in front of her to reveal… "Here we are, the kitchen, though the Doctor insists on calling it the…" She trailed off with an amused glint in her eye as someone spoke from within.
"It's a galley, this is a ship, Rose Tyler." The Doctor admonished from within.
Rose gestured with one hand to the room that lay within to prove her point, she seemed to be biting her lip to in an effort to refrain from laughing at the Doctor's supposed predictability.
She grabbed Martha's hand and tugged her inside the far too futurist galley, she wasn't sure she recognised half of the things in there. The Doctor was leaning against the counter nearest what Martha would assume was a hob judging by the frying pan of eggs resting atop it, using his sonic screwdriver to fiddle with some sort of mechanical part. Whatever it was Martha didn't recognise it.
Rose tugged her over to the circular table in the center of the room, on which a plate of pancakes was already waiting. Rose placed three plates on the table along with cutlery before she took her seat.
"Morning Martha. Sleep well?" The Doctor asked not looking up from his fiddling.
"Morning Doctor. Yes actually best sleep I've ever had - aside from those odd jolts - where do you get your mattresses?"
Rose shot the Doctor an amused smirk at that, her head propped on her hand the picture of relaxed.
"You owe me twenty quid."
The Doctor glared at her but Martha could tell it was playful.
"TARDIS grown, won't find anything else like them. And sorry about that it was Rose's fault."
"It was your driving." Rose shot back still grinning, leaving Martha to wonder just what exactly had occurred after she'd gone to bed.
"There's nothing wrong with my driving, Rose Tyler. You try piloting a transdimensional ship by yourself it's not as easy as it lo-"
"Doctor, the eggs." Rose easily interrupted what was sure to be a long ramble defending his ego.
The Doctor swivelled back around to find the eggs had burnt slightly while he'd been distracted. The Doctor muttered something under his breath that Martha didn't understand but she would assume was a curse based on the tone used.
"Can stop an alien invasion but can't cook, I'm assuming you made the pancakes then?" Martha asked Rose lightly.
Rose laughed.
"I did make the pancakes, but he's a fairly good cook when he's not getting distracted. Though it's usually safer for me to cook as that's what happens when he gets bored." She explained, pointing to a pile of disassembled parts. "I hope you don't want toast with your eggs."
"That's a toaster?" Martha exclaimed.
Rose hummed in agreement.
"The TARDIS can technically control the hob so by that logic nothing should ever burn she just likes watching me suffer, which is why Rose's food is always fine." The Doctor interjected glaring at Rose.
"She likes me better." The blonde retorted with a shrug.
"She's my ship." The Doctor muttered to himself in sulk. "And these eggs would have been fine if you didn't insist on Earth chicken eggs."
"I'm all for trying the local cuisine and even bringing some of it on board but you're not going to change my mind on Earth eggs and milk."
The Doctor continued to grumble quietly to himself even as he bought the plate of salvaged fried eggs over. Rose got up with her now empty mug to grab another from the cupboard.
"Sorry Martha forgot to ask, do you want a cup of tea? Been awhile since there's been anyone else on board but me and the Doctor, I'm a bit out of practice."
"Yes, please. But only something from Earth." Martha added in light of their last conversation.
"One earl grey coming up. Milk, sugar?"
"Yes please, just one sugar."
Rose snorted to herself.
"Don't ever accidentally mix your tea up with Doctor's."
"Why not?"
"He takes like five sugars in his. Got one hell of a sweet tooth."
"Oi, don't knock it."
Rose rolled her eyes, bringing the cup over to Martha before she started to grab some eggs and pancakes for herself.
x
When breakfast was said and done the Doctor and Rose had moved as one to clear up. So in sync in their routine that Martha was once again left wondering how long they'd been together. They left the galley through the same door they'd entered by, but instead of the corridor they found themselves back in the console room. They'd come through a side door rather than through the main one that Rose had shown her through last night.
Martha whirled back round to the door they'd just come through in confusion - because that door hadn't been there last night, she was sure of it - and sure enough it had disappeared once more after they'd gone through. Trying to keep track of the seemingly magical transdimensional time machine was going to give her a headache of that she was certain.
Not that it mattered, she reminded herself glumly, it was just one trip after all.
Unaware of the depressing turn her thoughts had taken the Doctor began making his way around the console, activating controls seemingly at random, though Martha was sure there was some logic behind it. The TARDIS bucked violently and Martha suddenly understood why Rose was clutching the railing, she had after all, mentioned the Doctor's driving at breakfast. The girl in question shot Martha an apologetic smile as the ship bucked once again.
As the TARDIS continued to jolt and throw its occupants about Martha couldn't help the questions that flittered through her mind, and needing something else to focus on other than the bruises she was sure to have, she asked.
"But how do you travel in time? What makes it go?"
"Oh, let's take the fun and mystery out of everything." Rose laughed at the Doctor's disgruntled tone from where she was now sprawled on the floor. "Martha, you don't want to know. It just does. Hold on tight."
The TARDIS came to a sudden halt throwing Martha to the floor to join the other girl who was still laughing.
"Blimey. Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?"
"Yes, and I failed it."
"Oh now he tells me. Do you actually have any sort of valid driving license?" Rose interrupted with a grumble, remembering his motorcycle driving from the wire incident, lending Martha a hand up once she'd dusted herself off.
The Doctor glared at her but continued as if she hadn't spoken.
"Now, make the most of it. I promised you one trip, and one trip only. Outside this door, brave new world."
Rose shifted uncomfortably at the reminder and for a fleeting moment Martha wondered if maybe the blonde didn't want her here after all. The thought was quickly brushed aside as the excitement of what possibly lay beyond those doors mounted. She may only get one trip but she was going to make the most of it.
Rose made her way round to the monitor and peered at it unseeingly.
"And you're sure we're in the past, yeah?"
"Yep, already double checked the coordinates and everything. The TARDIS will show you which clothes you need."
"Clothes?" Martha questioned, looking down at her own outfit.
"Yeah the TARDIS has a wardrobe of clothes from all different eras and planets to help blend in, you don't always need to bother. He certainly doesn't. But one disapproving Queen is enough for me. Wanna come take a look?" Rose asked.
Martha's head spun as she tried to make sense of everything Rose had just said. She looked at the friendly smile on the girl's face and back to the doors. It was certainly intriguing but she worried that maybe if she stalled too long the offer for even just one trip would be taken off the table. Besides, Rose had said past and she wasn't particularly eager to find out just how complex the fashion of the days gone by was to navigate.
"And risk getting lost in there? No thanks." She declined kindly, she didn't want to risk agitating the crew after all.
"Okay, I'll try be quick." Rose smiled, before pointing at the Doctor. "Don't go off without me."
"Wouldn't dream of it." The Doctor replied easily.
Rose narrowed her eyes at him once more before disappearing into the ship with a sigh. The Doctor moved towards the controls once her footsteps could no longer be heard and Martha's heart lurched as she realised that maybe she should have taken Rose's offer. If only to stay on this magnificent ship for a little longer.
"We'll probably be left waiting at least an hour if Rose is left to her own devices, but a little manipulation of the local chronon field should speed things along." He looked up at Martha as he adjusted a dial. "Don't tell Rose, she'll never let me live it down."
Some of the tension left her at that, she would still get her trip. But his comment did get Martha thinking. The two travellers were clearly close despite their protest of not being together and yet they seemed to find it so easy to keep things from each other, the big and the small. Not a particularly healthy dynamic, she'd seen first hand what hiding things could do to a relationship with her parents.
She shook her head to dismiss the thought. Where did she get off making such assumptions about practical strangers? She hadn't even known them for two days and yet here she was making judgments about their relationship! Maybe it would be best if it was just the singular trip.
It'd barely been a minute when Rose returned in a pale yellow dress with a matching lace up yellow corset adorned with embroidered flowers, big puffy white sleeves and second shorter pink skirt resting on top. Her hair had been pulled back in a simplistic updo, which Martha suspected was more for practicality than era-suited.
"Ah there you are. We've been waiting ages." The Doctor complained.
Rose gave Martha a subtle look, that the Doctor missed, as if to signify that she knew exactly what he'd done and that he had no basis for his grumbling.
"Well?" She asked instead, giving a quick twirl in the doorway as she awaited the Doctor's assessment.
Mid-twirl her skirts lifted enough for Martha to get a peek at the brown leather boots perfectly suited for running, but definitely not for whatever period they'd found themselves in. She was beautiful, Martha couldn't help herself from thinking, the Doctor was mad for not snatching her up when he had the chance.
"Will this do, seeing as we still don't know where we are?"
"Considering the strict sumptuary laws of the time she chose well." The Doctor answered absently as he grabbed his coat.
Rose rolled her eyes but her smile was fond, a smile that quickly fell when she felt Martha's eyes on her.
"What are sumptuary laws?"
"Colours belonged to certain classes, wear the wrong colour you could lose your property or title." Rose said waving her off, clearly not quite certain if she understand it completely herself.
"How'd you know that?"
"TARDIS leaves a lil fact sheet with some of the clothes sometimes. They're quite interesting." She shrugged.
The Doctor's face crumpled in almost disgust, he shot a look at the ceiling.
"Since when?"
He shook his head dispelling the thought and returning to the present.
"Now then where were we? Right! Brave new world, ready?"
Rose came to stand next to Martha.
"Where are we?"
"Take a look. After you."
Martha chanced a look back at Rose.
"Go on." Nodding to the door with an encouraging smile, Martha stumbled forward.
"Oh, you are kidding me. You are so kidding me." Rose stepped out after Martha with the Doctor shutting the door behind them with a smug smirk. "Oh, my God, we did it. We travelled in time. Where are we? No, sorry. I got to get used to this whole new language. When are we?"
"Mind out." Rose yanked Martha back as a familiar call echoed from above.
"Gardez l'eau!"
A waste bucket emptied out right where they'd stood moments before. Rose recoiled, lip curled back in disgust. She never had got used to that particular aspect of travelling to the past. And with good reason she supposed.
"Somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that." The Doctor said, responding to the medical student's earlier question.
"I've seen worse. I've worked the late night shift A+E."
Rose had to commend her on that. She'd never gotten used to it not when she'd lived on the estates and not now that she travelled in time. It just brought up the worst kind of memories for her. Memories she'd rather stay forgotten.
Rose stepped forward with the Doctor when he held out his hand to her. They began to make their way through the street when they were halted by another of Martha's questions.
"But are we safe? I mean, can we move around and stuff?"
Always asking the right questions it seemed. That was Martha Jones.
"Of course we can. Why do you ask?"
Rose slapped his arm. It was her first trip through time and all she had to base her information off of was bad sci-fi films, he could at least try being gentle.
"It's like in the films. You step on a butterfly, you change the future of the human race."
Martha, it seemed did not need someone to stick up for her, and in a way Rose was glad. Glad to know that in the other timeline she wouldn't have let the Doctor push her around.
"Tell you what then, don't step on any butterflies. What have butterflies ever done to you?"
"What if, I don't know, what if I kill my grandfather?"
"I wouldn't worry about it too much Martha. Time isn't quite as delicate as the films make it seem, you can get away with quite a bit without altering history. It's just fixed points you've got to watch out for, and the Doctor would know about them anyway."
"And this is London?"
"I think so. Round about 1599."
Rose didn't bother with a teasing remark about his driving this time. The TARDIS wouldn't have lead her to the right section of the wardrobe if she intended to ruin Martha's first trip.
"Oh, but hold on. Am I alright? I'm not going to get carted off as a slave, am I?
"Why would they do that?"
Rose and Martha both gave him a pitying look for that question. For a man who spent so much time around humans and jumping through their history he did seem to remain pretty clueless.
"Not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed."
"I'm not even human. Just walk about like you own the place. Works for me."
"Works for you because your a white male. Nobody puts a price in pigs on men." Rose pointed out, still not over that particular adventure when the Doctor had defended that she was worth more than two pigs. A right charmer that one.
"You'd be surprised. Elizabethan England, not so different from your time." The Doctor rebutted, as two black women crossed in front of them. "Look over there. They've got recycling." He pointed to a man shovelling horse manure into a bucket.
"Water cooler moment." He continued referencing the two men gathered round a water barrel deep in discussion.
"And the world will be consumed by flame." A preacher claimed dramatically.
"Global warming?" Rose asked cheekily, giving her signature tongue in cheek smile.
The Doctor laughed.
"Oh, yes, and entertainment. Popular entertainment for the masses. If I'm right, we're just down the river by Southwark, right next to…" He trailed off as he grabbed their hands and dragged them down the street. "Oh, yes, the Globe Theatre! Brand new. Just opened. Through, strictly speaking, it's not a globe, it's a tetradecagon. Fourteen sides. Containing the man himself."
Despite the Doctor's enthusiasm she was lost. She couldn't recall famous entertainers from the Elizabethan era. It had never crossed her mind as something to look up on one of her late night reading sessions in the library.
Fortunately it seemed Martha knew what the Doctor was hinting at.
"Whoa, you don't mean. Is Shakespeare in there?"
"Oh, yes. Miss Jones, will you accompany me to the theatre?"
"Mister Smith, I will." Martha answered excitedly, taking the Doctor's unoccupied arm, while Rose retained her grip on his hand.
"When you get home, you can tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare."
"Then I could get sectioned." Martha said sarcastically as they made their way to the globe.
x
They found seats in the stands once they'd gotten in with a combination of the few Elizabethan coins the Doctor had managed to dig out of his pockets and a flash of the psychic paper. Martha and the Doctor seemed to be enthralled by the play but Rose was struggling to focus. She'd never been good at the whole sitting still and listening thing at school and travelling with the Doctor had just worsened that trait. The outdated language helped none in that aspect. Not for the first time did she wish she'd paid more attention in her English classes.
Her attention had been diverted through out, focusing on the coil of conflicting emotions that didn't belong to her. She'd managed to pick up contrasting waves of excitement and fear from the TARDIS and try as she might, she couldn't seem to discern what had caused the reaction.
She was pulled from her thoughts by the sudden applause, signifying the end of the play that she hadn't been watching. Getting to her feet with the rest of the crowd she clapped half-heartedly as her gaze drifted through the audience.
"That's amazing! Just amazing. It's worth putting up with the smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah?"
"London never changes."
"Where's Shakespeare? I want to see Shakespeare. Author! Author!" Rose had to admire Martha's enthusiasm, it was infectious, even as she looked unsure of herself. "Do people shout that? Do they shout Author?"
Clearly Rose wasn't the only one who thought so, as a bloke behind them took up the chant, "Author! Author!" It wasn't long before the entire audience had taken up the chant.
"Well, they do now."
With a leap and a cocky smile the man himself stepped onto the stage. Soaking up the rapturous applause.
"He's a bit different from his portraits."
"Mmm. He's not bad looking." Rose said appreciatively, ignoring the look the Doctor shot her.
The Doctor ignored the girls' commentary, rambling about the magnificence of the playwright.
"Genius. He's a genius. The genius. The most human human there's ever been. Now we're going to hear him speak. Always he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words."
"Ah, shut your big fat mouths!" The audience laughed but the Doctor's face dropped.
"Oh, well."
"You should never meet your heroes." Martha said sympathetically.
"At least Charlie boy didn't disappoint." Rose reminded him with a playful nudge.
"You've got excellent taste, I'll give you that. Oh, that's a wig."
Rose tuned out the rest of what was going on as she felt an odd prickle run up the back of her neck. She looked about herself trying to discern the cause but once more, found nothing. Her skin felt too tight and itchy as the TARDIS attempt to translate the odd energy signals she was picking up. She rubbed at her arms trying to dismiss the feeling but it helped none.
"I know what you're all saying. Love's 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."
On the stage, Shakespeare was still playing to the audience when the peculiar energy reached it's crescendo. Shakespeare jolted upright from his bow with a jerk and in an almost trance-like state, he delivered the answer the audience was most hoping for.
"When? Tomorrow night. The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it Love's Labour's Won."
With narrowed eyes, Rose regarded the playwright skeptically. Whatever was going on she had a feeling it had something to do with him.
As they were filing out of the Globe Martha added another piece to the curious mystery.
"I'm not an expert, but I've never heard of Love's Labour's Won."
"Exactly. The lost play. It doesn't exist, only in rumours. It's mentioned in lists of his plays but never ever turns up. And no one knows why."
Rose was really beginning to wish she'd paid more attention in English. Or at least brushed up on her knowledge of famous figures.
"Have you got a mini-disc or something? We can tape it. We can flog it. Sell it when we get home and make a mint."
"Don't get a brain door." Rose muttered, remembering someone else who'd tried to use time travel for their own gain.
And judging by the Doctor's expression - a mixture of disappointed and disgusted - he was thinking similarly.
"No." He told her sharply.
"That would be bad." She said with a little self-conscious laugh.
"Yeah, yeah."
"Well, how come it disappeared in the first place?"
"Well, I was just going to give you a quick little trip in the Tardis, but I suppose we could stay a bit longer."
Martha's smile turned victorious at this declaration. She turned towards Rose, who would have shared in her excitement if she wasn't so distracted by that damn buzzing, unfortunately the young Doctor misinterpreted this reaction. Once again worried that the blonde didn't want her there.
x
It didn't take long to find out where the great genius was residing, a couple of carefully pointed questions here and there and they were on their way. The Doctor bounded up the steps of the Elephant Inn, the two girls trailing behind him at a more leisurely pace, the night was still young no point tiring themselves out so early. They didn't catch the conversation going on before the Doctor burst in on them, having still been trying to mount the stairs when he did so.
"Hello! Excuse me, not interrupting, am I? Mister Shakespeare, isn't it?" Even without seeing him they could hear his gleeful tone and knew there was likely a smile to match it.
The two girls stepped through the doorway. The wordsmith had his head in his hand as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut, the two actors looked on at the newcomers curiously.
"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-" Shakespeare trails off suddenly having spotted Martha. "Hey, nonny nonny. Sit right down here next to me. You two get sewing on them costumes. Off you go."
The playwright looked slightly entranced and if the smile upon Martha's lips was anything to go by she certainly didn't mind the attention. Rose found the whole thing rather amusing if she was being honest, the past always seeming far more foreign than any far off planets. And the Doctor's confusion only added to her amusement.
"Come on, lads. I think our William's found his new muse." The innkeeper ushered out the two actors looking amused.
"Sweet ladies."
Martha sat besides Shakespreare, grin still in place as the previous occupants of the room scappered. Rose sat across from Shakespeare, unable to shake her amusement even as the Doctor's tense form sat beside her. He was sat closer than normal not that that was particularly unusual for them but the glare he was sending the wordsmith certainly was interesting. As well as being reminiscent of the look he'd shot Jack when they'd first met.
"Such unusual clothes. So fitted." He said eyeing Martha's form with an appreciative eye.
"Er, verily, forsooth, egads."
Rose bit back a smile, reminded of her awful attempt at Scottish during the run in with Queen Victoria and felt embarrassed on Martha's behalf.
"No, no, don't do that. Don't."
The Doctor flashes the psychic paper at Shakespeare.
"I'm Sir Doctor of TARDIS and these are my companions, Dame Rose Tyler of Powell Estate and Miss Martha Jones.
"Interesting, that bit of paper. It's blank."
"Oh, that's very clever. That proves it. Absolute genius." The Doctor beamed, his earlier glare but a mere memory.
"No, it says so right there. Sir Doctor, Dame Rose, Martha Jones. It says so."
"And I say it's blank."
"Psychic paper. Er, long story. Oh, I hate starting from scratch." The Doctor grumbled tucking the wallet away.
Rose poked him the ribs.
"Being rude." She shot Martha an apologetic look across the table, mouthing her reassurances to the young student. "I'll explain later."
"Psychic? Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you exactly? More to the point, who is your golden maiden and this delicious blackamoor lady?"
"What did you say?" Martha asked stunned and barely hiding her offence under a chuckle.
"Oops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays?" He apologised not looking particularly contrite, as he listed other terms. "An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A Queen of Afric?"
"I can't believe I'm hearing this."
"And you say I'm rude." He muttered to Rose. "It's political correctness gone mad. Er, Martha's from a far-off land. Freedonia."
Rose bit back a chuckle at the Doctor's less than stellar explanation, it was practically transparent. And judging by the narrowing of Shakespeare's eyes he saw right through it. Rose bit at her thumb, worried of the consequences the playwright might wrought. They'd had many an incidence with their not so clever lies getting them into more trouble than they'd bargained for, it wouldn't be the best way to introduce Martha to life on the TARDIS.
But before her mind could wander too far and conjure all kinds of absurd fantasies, they were interrupted by the bellowing voice of a newcomer. All heads snapped towards the doorway to greet the sight of a portly man in Elizabethan finery and a severe expression.
"Excuse me! Hold hard a moment. This is abominable behaviour. A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script, Mister Shakespeare." The man in question dropped his head into his hand once more, looking far too weary for this to have been his first fun in with the bloke. "As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed."
Pretentious git, Rose thought to herself absently as she watched the scene before her unfold.
"Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it round."
"I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine. The script, now!" He demanded, Rose rolled her eyes, already fed up with the pompous prick.
"I can't." His temper showing as he spat out the words.
"Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled."
Turning away from the dramatics she noticed the serving girl disappear quietly, Rose had spotted her moments prior having been listening to the conversation with more vigor than Rose deemed necessary. She dismissed the thought, there was nothing sinister about a serving girl.
"It's all go around here, isn't it?" Martha muttered quietly.
Despite the situation Shakespeare was smiling, if looking a tad exasperated but not as worried as Rose would expect for someone who was being prohibited from their livelihood.
"I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the last thing I do, Love's Labour's Won will never be played." And as quickly as he'd arrived, he left.
Silence settled over the quartet and Dolly returned with their drinks.
"Well then, mystery solved. That's Love's Labour's Won over and done with. Thought it might be something more, you know, more mysterious."
"Famous last words." Rose muttered.
And no sooner had the words been spoken than the sound of a man's screams could be heard from the street below. The four of them were up out of their seats and crashing down the stairs to investigate before they'd even had a chance to properly consider what situation they might be walking into.
"Help me!" A woman begged.
Various voices could be heard screaming from the street below. Upon arriving at the scene they spotted Lynley violently coughing up water and Rose recognised that same tingle up her spine from the theater. As the Doctor and Martha dove into action to help the man, Rose tried to carrol the spectators from the scene while also looking about herself to try pinpoint from where the sensation had arose from. But just as before the energy continued to mount as it raced to its peak, the source out of sight.
Rose spun around in time to watch Lynley collapse. Martha knelt over the man's still form, every bit the attentive doctor.
"Got to get the heart going. Mister Lynley, come on. Can you hear me? You're going to be alright." After checking that the man was no longer breathing, she prepared to start CPR.
Only to all of their surprise, to see water bubble forth from his mouth.
"What the hell is that?"
"I've never seen a death like it. His lungs are full of water. He drowned and then, I don't know, like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow."
"Is that even possible?" Rose muttered to herself on edge, something was going on here and it was not natural.
"Must be." The Doctor answered her absent mindedly before turning back to the landlady. "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 serving girl from before offers, something about her gave Rose the chills, but she dismissed the feeling just as before, as the girl disappeared down the street.
"And why are you telling them that?
"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."
Ever the eager student, Martha asks. "Okay, what was it then?"
"Witchcraft." His expression far too severe, for either of them to question his assessment.
"Of course it was. So much for a trip to the theater." Rose commented bemusedly.
x
Once the constable was called, dealing with Mr Lynley was a rather quick, if morbid affair. His death had caused quite the stir and the authorities wanted him out of sight as quickly as possible, if only to quiet the rumours and whispering. But once that was done with the five of them trekked back up to the Elephant Inn, the atmosphere morose in light of the man's death.
"I got you a room, Sir Doctor. You and your companions are just across the landing." Dolly informed them.
Rose shot the woman a grateful smile before she disappeared. Their attention back on the wordsmith as he spoke up.
"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." Rose would not begrudge Martha her prideful tone, she was sure the woman had worked tooth and claw for that position and deserved every second of pride.
But the playwright was not done with his assessments of the travellers, not by a long shot.
"And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have eyes so old?"
"I do a lot of reading."
"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do." His tone amused, Rose wondered what it was that he had seen in them but before she could ponder it he turned his gaze on her. "And you, Dame Rose. There is something of starlight in your own eyes."
Rose swallowed fearfully, her mind replaying the golden light of Bad Wolf from the hospital. How could he know that? She was once more reminded of her dislike of prophecies as the Beast's words rang in her ears. She was shaken from her thoughts, by Shakespeare turning back to Martha.
"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."
"I think we should say goodnight."
"Think I'll join you." Rose agrees, panic still clawing at her throat as the two of them leave the room behind, as well as Shakespeare and his too knowing words.
The room Dolly had prepared for them was cramped but housing all the basics of the time period, the only shortcoming was the two small beds.
"It's not exactly five star, is it?" Martha commented, as she slung her jacket on the wooden bench in their room.
Rose laughed, lighting the handheld candle.
"This is practically luxury after you've found yourself in some of the worst dungeons the universe has to offer." She looked up at the student who was regarding her with a curious eye. "You alright? Sure this wasn't wha' the Doctor had in mind for your first trip, i's a bit much."
Martha let out a mirthless chuckle, as she stared resolutely at her shoes.
"Just a bit."
Rose smiled sympathetically, she knew that feeling. When she first started travelling with the Doctor she'd been loathed to admit whenever it got a bit too much, worried that her vulnerability would be enough to get her sent back home.
"You should get some sleep, it will help."
"Not actually that tired." Martha admitted.
"Trust me," Rose laughed. "When you travel with the Doctor you take any chance you can to get some sleep because before you know it you're running for your life and you haven't slept for nearly 30 hours."
Martha's jaw dropped a little in shock and disbelief as she considered the last part of Rose's advice while also struggling to grasp what the blonde might mean by travelling with the Doctor. Because surely she only meant it as advice for this one adventure, after all that was all she had been promised.
"That happens?"
Rose shrugged lightly.
"Sometimes, enough for me to take advantage of every second of sleep."
Rose made her way over to the bed on the furthest side of the room, closest to the window she took a seat on the edge of it. Just as the Doctor walked in.
"Slight problem though."
"What's tha'?" Rose asked as she unlaced her boots.
"I haven't even got a toothbrush."
"Doctor?"
"Hmm." The Doctor stopped his perusal of the room at the calling of his name.
"Toothbrush."
"Oh. Er." He patted down his pocket before pulling out a clear tube with bristles at one end handing it off to Martha. "Contains Venusian spearmint."
Martha took the toothbrush apprehensively, which was fair enough Rose supposed, it was rather odd to carry a toothbrush around in your suit, she didn't really think about it anymore. So very used to the weird and wonderful things the Doctor seemed to carry around all the time.
"So, who's going where? I mean, there's only two beds."
The Doctor flopped down onto the bed on the opposite side of Rose, the blonde looked slightly disgruntled about being jostled about but also very accepting of her fate, as if this was parr the course for them. Martha was really beginning to doubt their claims about not being a couple.
"Ah we'll manage, I don't need much sleep anyway."
Rose rolled her eyes and muttered something under breath that made the Doctor smirk.
"If you're going to be hogging all the space, migh' as well make yourself useful." Rose said pointedly over shoulder, where the Doctor was indeed taking up more than half the bed.
"Hmm?"
"Strings."
"Oh."
A look of understanding finally dawned on the Doctor as he propped himself up. Martha was glad at least one of them understood what was going on because she constantly felt like she was running to catch up with these two.
The Doctor's nimble fingers made quick work of Rose's corset strings. With a word of thanks she stood up making her way over to the changing screen. The one hand against her chest the only thing holding her dress in place as she moved.
Refusing to dwell on the travellers' peculiar dynamic, Martha asked the question that had been preying on her mind since Lynley's death.
"So, magic and stuff. That's a surprise. It's all a little bit Harry Potter."
"Wait till you read book seven. Oh, I cried."
"But is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic and all that, it's real?"
Rose slipped out from behind the changing screen in her slip, the rest of her ensemble draped over the top. She took her seat back besides the Doctor as she awaited his answer.
"Course it isn't!"
"Well, how am I supposed to know? I've only just started believing in time travel. Give me a break."
Rose elbowed the Doctor in the ribs with a scowl.
"Don't be rude. If werewolves can be aliens, why can't witches? It's a fair question."
"Oi. Looks like witchcraft, but it isn't. Can't be." He turned back to Martha. "Are you going to stand there all night?"
Rose rolled her eyes at him, and sent an apologetic smile Martha's way. Martha got the feeling that the blonde was constantly apologising for the Doctor's rudeness. But she sat on the other bed regardless despite feeling slightly disgruntled by the order.
"So? What is it? Any ideas." Rose asked once Martha was settled.
"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. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it."
"Who says it's human? And to be fair you did miss the London eye, and knowing our luck it'd be linked to the Globe. Got a habit of London landmarks being used for nefarious schemes." She teased, tongue between cheek, hoping the uncomfortable sensations she'd experienced earlier would at least be useful and not completely obvious.
"Oi, that happened once!" The Doctor argued indignantly, causing Rose to smirk. "And besides, most of the species capable of channeling psychic energy without such a large generator have died out or never existed. I suppose we'll find out tomorrow and then I'll take you back home, Martha."
Rose's face dropped at the last bit, she cast a furtive glance at the other girl, to see that her face had crumpled under the weight of crushed hope that she hid carefully behind a mask of disgust.
"Great." Martha said harshly, blowing out the candle plunging the room into darkness.
She'd allowed herself to hope that maybe her trip could be extended what with all of Rose's pointed advice but it seemed she'd gotten ahead of herself, and they didn't want her with them after all.
x
With the room shrouded in darkness Rose attempted to take her own advice and get some sleep. Nudging the Doctor over she laid down, hoping that sleep would come to her. But just as she began to doze off a prickling sensation started at the base of her neck.
Intent on ignoring it, she tried to bury her face in the pillow but still the sensation grew, pulling her further from unconsciousness in the process. And as she returned to the land of the living she remembered what had happened the last time she'd felt the peculiar sensation that the Doctor had suggested was psychic energy. And just like that the drowsiness disappeared.
At the same time a scream echoed down the corridor.
She launched herself out of bed just a second after the Doctor and the two of them flew through the Inn, as their companion struggled to grasp the situation having been awoken so suddenly.
The Doctor burst into the room in which they first met Shakespeare, startling him from where he slept on his desk. Rose noted absently that he'd managed to sleep through the scream that had roused them on the other side of the Inn.
The Doctor bent down to check on Dolly, while Rose casted her eyes about the room trying to note anything out of place. Martha wandered over to the now open window.
"What? What was that?" Shakespeare asked weakly, his voice still thick with sleep.
"Her heart gave out. She died of fright."
"Doctor?" Martha called their attention from her place by the window.
The two travellers quickly made their way across the room to join her. But upon arriving they saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"What did you see?"
"A witch."
x
By the time a constable had arrived and his questions answered - after all they'd been at two crime scenes now - morning had broke. Rose had returned to their room to slip back into her Elizabethan garb, not much fancying the idea of confronting the constable in this era's equivalent of underwear, sometime in between.
The Doctor was deep in thought, eager to get to the root of the mystery as the body count piled up.
"Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey. She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place when 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 spoke for the first time in hours, aptly quoting Dylan Thomas, as he lowered his hand from his face.
"I might use that."
"You can't. It's someone else's."
In any other scenario Rose might have laughed at the absurdity of the Doctor giving Shakespeare some of his most famous quotes but today was not any other day.
"But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright, and they were both connected to you."
"Sounds right ou' of a play." Rose remarked absently, upon the strange deaths.
"You're accusing me?"
"No, but I saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches."
Rose wasn't ignorant enough to not recognise the famous Scottish play when referenced. It was perhaps the first play she'd recognised on this particular excursion.
"I have? When was that?"
"Not, not quite yet."
"Peter Streete spoke of witches." Shakespeare eyed the Doctor suspiciously, at his none too subtle reference to time travel.
"Who's Peter Streete?"
"Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe."
"Of course he did." Rose muttered, it was always the landmarks.
Rose regarded the Doctor quietly, he was deep in thought again. She knew that face, any moment now he'd started shouting as the pieces slowly fell into place in that big old brain of his, even while he was still left scrambling trying to understand why those pieces made up the picture.
"The architect. Hold on. The architect! The architect! The Globe! Come on!" Slapping the table and shouting, he leapt from the room as they trailed after him.
x
The Doctor paced in the saw dust of the pit, Shakespeare and Martha stood above him on the stage while Rose sat on the edge, her feet dangling down into the pit below, watching the Doctor curiously.
"The columns there, right? Fourteen sides. I've always wondered, but I never asked. Tell me, Will. Why fourteen sides?"
"It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all. Said it carried the sound well." The playwright answered dismissing the question.
"Fourteen. Why does that ring a bell? Fourteen."
"There's fourteen lines in a sonnet." Martha inputted carefully, worried of embarrassment after his dismissal of witches.
"So there is. Good point."
"If its psychic energy, wouldn't they need the generator or whatever to match the rhythm of the words to amplify their power?" Rose asked, following on from Martha's point and her own point about the globe from last night's discussion.
"Another good point. Words and shapes following the same design. Fourteen lines, fourteen sides, fourteen facets. Oh, my head. Tetradecagon. Think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!" Smacking his head as he tried to make sense of the picture.
"This is just a theatre."
The wordsmith clearly thought they were at least a bit barmy, and wasn't ready to play along just yet.
The Doctor came to stand next to Rose as he addressed Shakespeare's skepticism.
Rose watched him closely, already prepared for the inevitable ramble, and wanting to catch that sparkle in his eyes when it happened.
"Oh yeah, but a theatre's magic, isn't it? You should know. Stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis at 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. But if you exaggerate that." He trailed off wandering back into the pit, and Rose knew that the picture was beginning to become clearer.
"It's like your police box. Small wooden box with all that power inside."
Rose smirked to herself, one way to get on the Doctor's good side? Compliment the TARDIS, which was fair she supposed it was rather impressive.
"Oh. Oh, Martha Jones, I like you. Tell you what, though. Peter Streete would know. Can I talk to him?"
"You won't get an answer. A month after finishing this place, lost his mind."
That didn't seem coincidental to Rose, something was going on with the Globe and the fact the architect had lost his mind cemented that theory in her mind. A glance at the Doctor confirmed her thoughts.
"Why? What happened?"
"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled."
Okay definitely not unconnected then.
"Where is he now?"
"Bedlam."
"What's Bedlam?"
"Bethlem Hospital. The madhouse."
Already knowing where this was going, Rose hopped off of the stage coming to stand next to the Doctor.
"We're going to go there. Right now. Come on." And once more the Doctor strode off leaving everyone else scrambling after him, he caught Rose's hand on his way out.
"Wait! I'm coming with you. I want to witness this first hand." Shakespeare marched after them pausing only to deliver the script, before catching up with Martha. "So, tell me of Freedonia, where women can be doctors, writers, actors."
"This country's ruled by a woman."
"Ah, she's royal. That's God's business. Though you are a royal beauty." The cheesy one-liner easily slipped into conversation.
The pair of them came to a stop as Martha confronted him.
"Whoa, Nelly. I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country."
"But Martha, this is Town." He flirtily rebuked, as if it was obvious.
The Doctor spun back around to gather the other half of their quartet, dragging an amused Rose with him.
"Come on. We can all have a good flirt later."
"Is that a promise, Doctor?" Shakespeare eyed the Doctor up and down, his gaze far from innocent.
"Oh, fifty seven academics just punched the air. Now move!"
Rose laughed, "Doesn't he sort of remind you of a Renaissance era Jack?"
"Oh, as if one Jack wasn't bad enough."
A/N: TO BE CONTINUED! So you've probably guessed by now my updating schedule is erratic, I had a week off from college so I tried to get this finished then but did not succeed, this story has been kicking my ass, I did lots of complaining on tumblr about it. Anyway! First part of Martha's trip what do we think? Also you guys seemed to like last chapter so there'll definitely be more like that in future, if you have ideas for those extra chapters let me know
Anyway let me know your thoughts in the comments :)
Dreamcatcher56:
Ahh glad you enjoyed itthere will be more chapters like last. I agree that rose was more in her element and she may seem a lil out of it for a bit as acclimatises to having martha on board, to her mum being gone and bad wolf
httydfangirl123:
Thank you hope i can keep you hooked. Bad wolf is central to the plot so hopefully i can do it justice
debygoebel:
glad you enjoyed it
Ace of Spies:
So i chose for the tardis to appear as a female because the tardis is referred to as she so it would be what Rose is expecting as well as the fact that she has just lost her mother she'd be more desperate for a maternal figure and more likely to heed the tardis' warning but i agree. Rose and Martha are different in so many ways that i'm glad they at least have one thing in common XD
Thanks for your comments guys, they make my day
