Beta-ed by the amazing NoPondInTheForest, but as apparently I can't stop editing under any circumstances, all mistakes are mine, not hers! This story was never meant to be a crossover, but I can't deny that the character of Edward de Vere is highly influenced by Roland Emmerich's fantastic film "Anonymous". Thank you guys for all your reviews & favourites & follows! Hope you won't be dissapointed.
"And why didn't you bring that girl with you?" Jack asked Clara.
"How was I supposed to do that?" she asked back, not sure whether to believe she could actually have released that poor girl from the Tower or to think she had been a perfect idiot.
"Doc never taught you to use a vortex manipulator?"
"Never had one before, and since I've had one, he's been rather busy."
"Bet he has! Anyway, I don't think he'd have explained how to use it, even if he'd had the time. Whenever I meet him he always deactivates mine," Jack complained.
"And why would he do that?" asked Clara with a frown.
"Why would he do that? Just out of pure vanity! He's not the only one who can travel in space and time, but he doesn't like being reminded 'cause he doesn't feel as special as he likes to think he is. Plus, of course, how can a vortex manipulator compete with the TARDIS?" Jack shut his eyes and exhaled before he went on. "Okay, he might have a point there, but that little thing that's wrapped around your wrist has saved the day on more than one occasion, and he knows it."
"Not today I'm afraid, Captain," said Clara. "The first time I used it, right after someone showed it to me in The Black Archive, it practically took me directly to the Doctors."
"I wouldn't say its choice of destination has been entirely random this time, Clara," Jack told her. "UNIT probably stole it from me, so it's basically come home to daddy."
"And could that be the only reason why it's led me to you instead of them?"
"Well, it might also have brought us together because of the undeniable attraction between us, Miss Oswald," answered Jack, giving her one of his seductive looks and one of his usual smiles.
In contrast, the look Clara gave Captain Jack Harkness made it absolutely clear that she was definitely not in the mood for jokes.
"What code did you use before you teleported here?" he asked, his flirtatious efforts now put on the raising of an eyebrow.
"If the Doctor doesn't let you use that thing and keeps deactivating it whenever the two of you bump into each other, what makes you think I'd give you that code?" she replied, an air of defiance about her.
"I can see you don't trust me, Miss Oswald," said Jack as he got a few steps closer to Clara, "and I can't blame you for that! The Doctor didn't trust me when we first met either, but then he changed me. And he did it for the best. That's what he does to people, and you know it. I won't deny I've done things that I'm not proud of, Clara, but I can give you a few reasons why you should trust me right now. First one is I'm good! And I mean very good. Want another one? I'm definitely on your side. And finally, in case you still think you might need another, I'm not sure if you've already noticed, but right now, I happen to be everything you've got."
"You might be everything I've got at the moment, Captain, but I'm still not giving you the code."
"Then answer this simple question. Was there a 4 somwhere? Or maybe – just maybe – a 9?"
"No... There... Wasn't...," she answered slowly as she took an instant to mentally go through it.
"I guessed so," Jack replied grimacing.
"And what exactly did you guess, Captain?" asked Clara, crossing her arms over her chest.
"There's this code – I'll call it 'indigo' – which my dear friend Martha Jones once gave me. Not only did it set that thing running, it also led me directly to the Doctor, and I deeply regret to inform you, Miss Oswald, that's not the code you have!"
"We'll find the Doctors, Captain! Never mind the code! Now please tell me, could I really have taken that girl with me?"
"Yes, you could!"
"Shit!"
"If only she had touched the strap or the flap, the two of you would've teleported out of the Tower together."
"And could I use it to go back to the Tower and get her out of there before we go looking for the Doctors?"
"I can't see why not," Jack replied. "Want me to go with you?"
"I've you've got nothing better to do," said Clara ironically.
"Actually, I do, but I guess it can wait. I'm sure Eddie here won't mind! He might even want to come with us! What do you think, Eddie?" he asked, turning to the other man who was wearing a Renaissance outfit. "Fancy a teleporting experience?"
The moment Clara Oswald had appeared, Edward de Vere had stepped behind her – at first, with the intention of admiring the face of the man whose kiss had let some sunshine get in through the countless cracks in his broken soul, making his tired heart pound with excitement like never before. Soon, however, the time travellers' conversation brought such twinkle to his eyes that it became unbelievably easy for Jack and Clara to predict his answer before he found the time to actually put it into words.
"By all the stars in heaven, indeed I would!"
But of course, he thought. He was supposed to be a genius, and how could a genius's answer ever have been any different?
Jack was briefly rejoicing in the natural yet powerful forces of human curiosity and thirst for knowledge and exploration when he was suddenly interrupted by Clara's simple yet sensible question.
"And who are you?" asked Clara in a tone of voice which hadn't sounded so much as the result of human curiosity or thirst for knowledge, but rather as a question the captain of a ship would ask a stowaway.
"Haven't really had time to introduce you two properly, have I?" Jack said ironically. Stepping towards Edward, he put a hand on his shoulder before he went on. "Miss Clara Oswald, this is Edward de Vere, the Earl of Oxford. Although…"
"I am, in fact, the Seventeenth Earl of Oxford, madam," Edward cut in.
"…although he's usually referred to by the name 'William Shakespeare'."
There was a short but awkward silence before Clara spoke.
"What do you mean, William Shakespeare?" she asked with a frown.
"I guess I meant 'William Shakespeare' as in 'the greatest writer who ever lived'," he replied, "but I just didn't think it'd be necessary to state the obvious."
"People are seldom graced with the knowledge that this gentleman and you, my lady, are now in possession of," said Edward as he bowed. "Why such knowledge was revealed to you, sir, is something I absolutely ignore, but I find myself obliged to ask both of you to address this issue with the utmost discretion."
"No offence," said Clara, "Mr…"
"De Vere, my lady."
"De Vere, right! No offence, Mr de Vere, but how can we be sure you're telling the truth?"
"No offence, Miss Oswald," interrupted Jack, "but I don't think you know your mysterious girl in the Tower any better than you know this man, but even if you don't, for some reason, you trust her, and you are determined to go and help her and nothing in the universe can stop you. Am I right?"
"That girl was a prisoner, Captain," said Clara, raising her eyebrows, "and this man is not, and I might not really know any of them but neither do you! What matters is, she might never get out of the Tower if we don't go there and help her, whereas he's a free man who could be one the Queen's most faithful servants for all we know."
"Oh! Then how terribly clever of us to be having this conversation right in front of him!" Jack exclaimed with sarcasm.
"Sir, madam," Edward cut in, "I can assure you both that I am not one of Her Majesty's spies."
"Hang on," said a now incredulous Clara. "I said 'servants', but you said 'spies'. Does Queen Elizabeth actually have spies?"
"Of course she does, my lady," Edward replied. "Any powerful King or Queen must always have spies. It would be extremely dangerous and unwise if they did not. They need eyes and ears at foreign courts."
Clara stayed silent for a moment, a faint smile on her lips.
"Basic knowledge of foreign politics then… Not bad for starters, sir, but you'll have to do better than that."
"I beg your pardon?"
"We have a friend, the Captain and I…"
"Are you referring to Lord Boeshane, my lady?"
"Yes! Lord Boeshane! Lord Boeshane and I, we have this friend,"she went on, "who said he'd once met a William Shakespeare who, oddly enough, was incapable of finishing his own verses. Our friend thought he had simply not written those plays yet but, come to think of it, now that you're here…"
"Now that he's here you can see as plainly as I do that that man was definitely not the real thing," said Jack, sounding really cross.
"I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, sir," said Clara, her eyes darting from Edward to Jack and back to Edward again. "If you're telling the truth, if that man our friend met wasn't the great playwright, I'm afraid you'll have to prove it."
She had asked that last questions taking a few steps closer to him, an air of defiance about her.
"If you wish me to prove it, my lady," Edward said in a self-assured tone while his eyes shone with bewilderment, "then prove it I shall, especially if by doing so I shall be rewarded with the honour of being allowed to partake in those events whose fascinating nature lies beyond my knowledge of this world and the stars around it."
"Good!" said Clara, taking a few steps closer to him. "This is what we'll do – you must finish each of the sentences I'm going to say, alright?"
"Oh, for goodness' sake…" Captain Jack Harkness protested right behind them.
"I shall do my best to excel, my lady," Edward gladly answered with another bow.
"Okay, here comes the first!" said Clara, who couldn't help but feel a glimmer of excitement because of what she was about to do. "If we shadows have offended…"
"…Think but this (and all is mended), that you have but slumber'd here, while these visions did appear…"
"Play?" Clara asked.
"A Midsummer Night's Dream, my lady."
"Okay," she said nodding, "here's another one. Stars, hide your fires…"
"Let no light see my dark and deep desires. That is a verse from Macbeth, my lady, although I am rather surprised that you should have had a chance to learn it, as I happen to have just finished that play. It has not even been sent to the presumed author yet."
"I can be very resourceful," she said. But far from being contented with the results she'd got by means of this little experiment of hers so far, Clara still wanted to push things a little bit further. It had suddenly hit her that the verses she had recited had one very important thing in common. Not only had they been lines from two of Shakespeare's greatest plays – they were all really well-known and extremely popular, at least in the twenty-first century, and for that very reason she now had the feeling they had been far from being good choices for their Shakespearean challenge. She couldn't keep on quoting Macbeth any longer, and Hamlet was definitely out of the question. She'd need something that wasn't as popular, and if possible, something infinitely darker.
It was at that point that memories of her childhood came to her mind. She had often been around playing with her toys or reading some of her fairy tales books while her grandparents had been watching one or other of Laurence Olivier's Shakespeare adaptations, and she could still remember how 9-year-old Clara Oswald had felt absolutely terrified when she accidentally learned the true facts regarding the mysterious disappearances behind Shakespeare's retelling of the story of one of history's greatest villains – King Richard III, the man who had killed the two young sons of his recently deceased brother so that he could become king.
"What about this one?" she asked. "Compare dead happiness with living woe…"
Edward smiled almost imperceptibly before he took over.
"Think that thy babes were sweeter than they were, and he that slew them fouler than he is. That's Richard III, my lady."
"I learned those lines by heart when I was just a child, sir, and I still remember them."
"Of course you remember them, my lady," Edward said softly. "For how could a child even start to conceive the thought that an ordinary human being could kill other children?"
Jack looked down in silence.
"Okay, here's the last one," Clara said determinedly. "Journeys end in lovers meeting…"
She finished that line and gave Edward de Vere a moment to think, but as he said nothing, she completed that verse for him. "Every wise man's son doth know…"
Still, Edward didn't say a word.
"Feste?" Clara asked frowning. "From Twelfth Night?"
"My dear madam," he said, "if making you believe that I am the author of the literary work people assume to have been written by a William Shakespeare depends upon my recognition of those verses you have recited," said Edward calmly, "then perhaps I should desist, my lady, since this man standing right before you has never written them."
It had been a trap, of course. The fact that she had unexpectedly remembered that Twelfth Night had been published in 1602 – tricks of the trade – and the suspicion that Edward might just not have written those verses yet had suddenly made them the most appealing, and Edward, she had to admit, hadn't disappointed her at all. The modesty the Earl of Oxford had made a show of in not falling into her trap made Clara start to believe that, even if he hadn't written those lines yet, one day, eventually, he would.
"Okay, so you might be the real Shakespeare after all, sir," she said, smiling at him.
"In truth, my lady, my name is Edward de Vere, and I am the Seventeenth Earl of Oxford. I would not, however, be speaking the truth if I attempted to dispute the otherwise undeniable fact that I have the honour and the shame of being the man who has most assuredly penned all the works attributed to the man called William Shakespeare."
"Why should you be ashamed of being the man who wrote those plays?" asked Clara, raising her eyebrows as she smirked.
"It is, I am afraid, a very long story, my lady, and not all of it is pleasant to recall," he answered, trying his best to pretend that his mood had not suddenly been darkened by the memories of a past which might have destroyed his life and his career as a playwright forever, but which had also been so full of bliss and delight that he had always refused to consign it to oblivion. Needless to say that, as far as Clara was concerned, he had not succeeded.
Looking at both Jack and Clara, Edward de Vere went on.
"Sir, madam, it is plainly perceptible that you are not, if I may say, of this world, and I am humbly honoured that my companionship has been accepted and I shall also be participating in those extraordinary undertakings you are here to be a part of. I have no objections to telling you the unfortunate story of Edward de Vere, in order to repay your kindness, but I also understand, judging by your conversation, that you do not let any more of your time go to waste. Did you not mention another lady who is at present in need of rescuing, my lady Clara?"
Clara smiled at Edward de Vere, her mind positively made up.
"The Tower, Captain," she said turning to Jack. "Let's go find that girl now."
Jack immediately took hold of Clara's left wrist, and pulling up the sleeve of her tunic, he lifted the flap of the vortex manipulator.
"The indigo code isn't really a code," Jack said. "You just need to make a couple of minor adjustments to this thing and then it will take you wherever it is you want to go." A quick look at his new friends' eyes left no trace of doubt that they were more than willing to go. "Ready?"
"Oh yes," replied Clara.
"Ready and waiting, sir," said Edward, who had just wrapped a hand around Clara's forearm close to her wrist. "And may I add, never have I been as willing to do anything in my entire life as I am this moment."
Jack felt so excited for the Earl of Oxford – who was probably going to live the greatest adventure of his whole life but still didn't know it – that he momentarily took his hand off the leather of the strap to squeeze Edward's long fingers. The moment he did so was also the moment Clara chose to press the final button on the vortex manipulator, and as Edward's own fingers were then curled around Jack's and not in touch with the leather anymore, it all ended up in disaster.
Jack and Edward teleported together to the same place, but Clara teleported to another.