The Dread of Tomorrow and Yesterday – Chapter 23
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, if I did, we'd be able to see how exactly Mickey and Martha got together.
A/N: I am back. Finally! I'm kind of frustrated at myself actually. But the past three weeks have allowed me to write five more chapters (which isn't that great), but it's the best I can do under the circumstances. Okay, this is another 10th Doctor episode, but the next one (so Chapter 25) will be a 11th Doctor episode and Rhea will get to meet Amy and Rory. I promise. This is also the second time Rhea meets Martha, as she met her in The Sontaran Stratagem/The Poison Sky, so it should be interesting. And what will the Doctor do if Shakespeare shows an interest in Rhea?
Notes on Reviews:
Crazy. PLEASE: Sorry, I couldn't send you a PM with my reply :( I'm so glad you like the story and thank you, I do hope I do justice to the Doctor and the companions. I know, not enough 11, but like the note above, Chapter 25 and on will feature the Eleventh Doctor, Amy and Rory, I promise, I'm getting kind of anxious to get to them as well.
Tayla: I'm so glad you like the story. I love it how Rhea makes the Doctor blush. She really does it to get a rise out of him, but sometimes their flirting is intentional. I'm glad you like her and I'm sure she'd love to get to know you too, to be honest, she's 50-50 with anyone. You should see how she'll act towards River. Her past is quite complicated. There are a few things that have compounded to turn her into the person she is now. The Doctor is quite understanding with her, he knows what kind of person she is and he's pretty used to it, but he still gets angry when she gets overly violent. They'll be little hints to where her walls start breaking down. They both do have a darkness in them, I think it does add a different dynamic to their relationship. There are certain situations where the Doctor's morality conflicts with Rhea's decisions and others where Rhea's humanity affects her relationship with the Doctor.
Warnings: Swearing, sexual innuendo.
The Shakespeare Code: Witches of London
"Where are we going now?" Donna asked, walking into the console room, having changed back into her purple shirt and jeans.
Rhea took a sip of her burning coffee. She looked at the Doctor, who was pressing a random button on the console. "Yeah, where?"
"How about we put her on random? Let her decide where to take us." The Doctor asked, smiling, a long slow, stretch of his mouth.
Rhea grinned at him and then looked at Donna. "That sounds like fun." She took a long, deep swig of her drink, draining the cup. She hummed when she actually felt better. When she screamed, the cup fell to the floor. Donna's eyes widened and she rushed over to her, the Doctor barely an inch behind.
Rhea's hands and nails dug into her hair, gripping her skull, as waves of sharp pain assaulted her. She shuddered and her hands clenched, involuntarily, due to the pain. The Doctor tightened his arms around her and forced her to look at him.
"Rhea," The Doctor began, soothingly. "Rhea, look at me." He said, his hands clutching her face, hating seeing her in pain, but ultimately couldn't stop it. "Everything is going to be fine."
Donna had tears in her eyes as she watched one of the strongest women she had ever met practically tearing her hair out in pain. "What's happening to her?" She cried out.
"She's leaving." The Doctor answered, grimly, not taking his eyes off Rhea for a second.
Donna looked at him, shocked and confused. "What do you mean, 'leaving'?"
"She's going to a different time in my life." The Doctor explained, stroking her hair as her head lolled onto his shoulder. He pressed his lips to her temple, rubbing her shoulder. "She'll appear in a different point in my timeline." He turned his attention back to Rhea. "It's alright, Rhea." He reared back when he saw the white glow, emanating from her fingertips and spreading across her body. He pulled Donna along with him as Rhea began to fade into the white light, disappearing, and soon after that, the white light itself was gone, leaving nothing behind.
When Rhea opened her eyes, she was still in the TARDIS, a little dimmer than she was used to, and the time machine was in flight. Rhea shrieked as she struggled to keep a hold of the railing, despite her weariness, familiar hands wrapping around her waist to keep her steady. She looked back to see the Doctor keeping a tight hold of her and a familiar dark-skinned woman grasping onto a strut for dear life.
"Oh, wonderful." Rhea deadpanned. "This is going to be a bumpy ride." She mimicked the voice of the shrunken head from Prisoner of Azkaban.
When the rattling of the TARDIS stopped, Rhea sighed with relief, closing her eyes.
"See, this is why you shouldn't drive." Rhea grumbled.
The Doctor gave her a wounded look. "I drive just fine, thank you very much." He said, turning a wheel on the console, while Martha held onto the console to remain steady herself.
"Wait, is anyone going to explain how she did that?" Martha asked, gesturing at Rhea.
Rhea frowned and her eyes widened. "Oh, you mean the whole appearing in a bright white light thing?" At Martha's obvious nod, Rhea continued. "I get pulled through time and space at random moments." She said, casually, as if she were explaining how to make tea. "I don't understand it myself."
Martha nodded and swallowed, deciding to just go with her explanation. She turned her attention back to the Doctor. "But how do you travel in time? What makes it go?"
The Doctor grimaced and Rhea hid her smile. "Oh, let's take the fun and mystery out of everything." He said, sarcastically. "Martha, you don't wanna know. It just does. Hold on tight!" He suggested, practically climbing onto the console. The two women were knocked to the floor, Martha lying in shock and Rhea glaring up at the Doctor, promising him pain, as he fell off the console.
Martha stood up, shakily. "Blimey! Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?"
"Yes, and he failed it." Rhea said, ignoring the Doctor's glare. "Oh, don't look at me like that, the TARDIS told me everything." She grinned, waggling her eyebrows.
The Doctor stroked the TARDIS. "Figures you'd give her more ammunition against me." The Doctor muttered to the TARDIS. Rhea laughed at the answering hum, feeling as though the TARDIS was laughing at the Doctor as well.
"Let's make the most of it." The Doctor said, handing Martha a maroon leather jacket. "I promised you one trip and one trip only. Outside this door..." He stopped at the door, dramatically, and faced her. "Brave new world." He murmured, with a knowing look in his eyes.
Martha smiled, excitedly. "Where are we?"
"Take a look." He opened the door. "After you, ladies."
With an intake of breath, Martha and Rhea walked outside and onto an Elizabethan street at night, with people milling about all over the place. Rhea's eyes widened and a smile stretched across her face and she looked back at the Doctor with an excited expression on her face.
"Oh, you are kidding me." Martha said, her jaw gaping. "You are so kidding me. Oh, my God! We did it. We travelled in time. Where are we?" Martha shook her head. "No, sorry. I gotta get used to this whole new language. When are we?"
Rhea bounded back over and threw herself into the Doctor's arms, who caught her with a surprised laugh. She threw her arms around his waist and stood on her toes so that she could press her lips to his scruffy cheek. "Thank you." She murmured against his cheek, nuzzling the roughness. She pulled back and smiled at him. "I dig the scruffiness, by the way." She rubbed his cheek with her hand.
He grinned at her, wrapping an arm loosely around her waist and she curled into his side. Suddenly, he looked up and his hand reached out to pull Martha back towards them, just as a man dumped the contents of a bucket from a first-floor window. Rhea grimaced as the contents hit the ground and curled even tighter into the Doctor to protect herself.
"Mind the loo!" She heard the man saying.
"Somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that." The Doctor said, answering Martha's question.
"I've seen worse. I've worked the late night shift at A&E." Martha said.
The Doctor started to walk, pulling Rhea along with him.
"But are we safe? I mean, can we move around and stuff?" Martha asked, hesitating as she took a few steps forward.
The Doctor frowned, confused. "Of course we can. Why do you ask?"
"It's like in the films. You step on a butterfly; you change the future of the human race." Martha said.
"You mean like in Back to the Future 2." Rhea said and Martha nodded. "It's called 'The Butterfly Effect'. Good question, is it real?" She looked up at the Doctor, inquisitively.
"Well, tell you what then, don't step on any butterflies." He looked back at them. "What have butterflies ever done to you two?"
Rhea rolled her eyes. "Ignore him, Martha, he likes insulting people, but he doesn't really think it's insulting." He's kind of like Sheldon Cooper. She would have mentioned that to Martha but she guessed it was somewhere between 2005, when she had met Rose and Biker Boy, and 2009, when they had been on the Titanic. She didn't know if The Big Bang Theory had even come out yet for Martha.
They continued walking.
"What if, I dunno, what if I kill my grandfather?" Martha asked.
The Doctor's eyebrows furrowed. "You planning to?"
"No."
"Well, then."
Martha looked around. "This is London."
"I think so. Right about 1599." The Doctor guessed.
Rhea's face fell in her disappointment. "I wanted to meet Anne Boleyn." She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging her arms.
"I'll take you to see her one day." The Doctor promised and was awarded with a beaming smile.
"Oh, but hold on. Am I all right? I'm not gonna get carted off as a slave, am I?" Martha asked, worriedly.
Rhea grimaced. "Yeah, good point. What about me?"
The Doctor looked very confused. "Why would they do that?"
Rhea raised an eyebrow and pointed to herself and Martha. "We're not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed."
The Doctor shrugged. "I'm not even human. Just walk about like you own the place."
"It works for him." Rhea interjected, ignoring the Doctor's glare.
"Besides, you'd be surprised. Elizabethan England, not so different from your time. Look over there." He pointed at a man shovelling manure. "Recycling. Water cooler moment." He said, as they passed by two men conversing at a water barrel. Rhea snickered. They walked past a man preaching about the end of the world.
"... and the world will be consumed by flame!" The preacher shouted.
"Global warming." The Doctor commented and suddenly threw himself in front of the two women in a sudden burst of energy. "Oh, yes, and... entertainment! Popular entertainment for the masses. If I'm right, we're just down the river by Southwark right next to..." The Doctor grabbed their hands and they ran around a corner. "Oh, yes, the Globe Theatre!" He exclaimed, gesturing to a massive round structure, with no ceiling, in the distance. "Brand new. Just opened. Through, strictly speaking, it's not a globe; it's a tetradecagon, 14 sides, containing the man himself."
Martha's eyes widened. "Whoa, you don't mean... is Shakespeare in there?"
"Oh," Rhea rubbed her hands together, gleefully. "Let's go!" She smiled wide and gave the Doctor her widest puppy-dog eyes.
The Doctor grinned, fondly, at her and held out both of his arms for the two women to take. "Miss Jones, Miss Adwani, will you accompany me to the theatre?"
Martha linked her arm in his. "Yes, Mr. Smith, I will."
Rhea raised an eyebrow as she, too, linked her arm with his. "You sweet-talker you." She grinned, nuzzling into his shoulder as they walked down the unpaved street.
"When you get home, you can tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare." The Doctor told Martha.
"Then I could get sectioned!" Martha exaggerated, grinning.
They walked in the Globe Theatre and shuffled into one of the stands, each stand packed to the inch with people, the rich in the higher ones and the poor in the lower ones. The people around them were applauding and cheering as the actors on the stage were taking their bows.
"I wonder what play was on tonight." Rhea murmured.
"That's amazing! Just amazing. It's worth putting up with the smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah." Martha exclaimed.
"London never changes." The Doctor deadpanned and Rhea nudged him lightly in the stomach, making him laugh. The Doctor looked down at her, wanting her approval. "Well?"
Rhea grinned up at him and pressed her lips to his cheek, the second show of affection on that very day, which was incredibly odd for her. "Thank you," She whispered, but Martha was entranced by her experience. "This is wonderful." She said, meaning every word.
"Where's Shakespeare?" Martha eyes peered over the people standing in front of them. "Where's Shakespeare? I wanna see Shakespeare. Author! Author!" She started chanting with her fist in the air.
Rhea's nose crinkled and the Doctor looked at Martha, slightly embarrassed.
Martha paused and looked at them. "Do people shout that? Do they shout "Author"?"
A man next to her picked up the chant and soon it spread across all of the stands.
"Well, they do now." Rhea looked around at everyone. She smirked at Martha. "Looks like you've started a new fad."
A handsome man, with brown hair and short beard, strode outside and took an exaggerated bow, blowing kisses at the crowd. The audience went wild and cheered even louder. Rhea was reminded of her last time at a rock concert.
"He's a bit different from his portraits." Martha commented.
"He's a bit hot." Rhea corrected, eyeing the man up and down with appreciation. She shrieked when she felt a stinging pain on her side and glared at the Doctor, when she realised he had pinched her. She rolled her eyes at his obvious jealousy and bopped his hip with hers. She wrapped his arm around her waist, nestling into his chest from the back. "Don't worry, honey, you're still my favourite guy in the whole wide world." She smirked when he tightened his hold around her.
"Genius. He's a genius, the genius." The Doctor commented, after he got over his brief jealousy. "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." The Doctor gushed.
Rhea shook her head. "You are such a fanboy."
"Shut your big fat mouths!" Shakespeare shouted.
Rhea started laughing madly when she saw the disappointed look on the Doctor's face. She held onto him for stability as her body shook with her snickers.
"Oh, well." The Doctor said, lamely, his face falling.
"You should never meet your heroes." Martha said.
"You have excellent taste! I'll give you that." Shakespeare said, smugly. He pointed to a man in the front of the audience. "Oh, that's a wig!" He paused for dramatic effect. "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 laughed and then bowed. Suddenly, he jerked upright in a very strange motion. "When? Tomorrow night."
The audience cheered, despite the stunned expressions on the cast's faces.
"The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it 'Loves Labour's Won'!"
The audience applauded loudly and the Doctor remained deathly still.
The Doctor, Rhea and Martha left the theatre with the rest of the crowd.
"I'm not an expert, but I've never heard of 'Loves Labour's Won'." Martha said, as they walked outside the theatre.
"It was said to be the sequel to 'Love Labour's Lost', but no copies survived. Apparently, it doesn't exist…" Rhea trailed off.
"…only in rumours." The Doctor finished. "It's mentioned in lists of his plays but never ever turns up. No one knows why."
"Have you got a mini-disk or something?" Martha asked, excitedly. "We could tape it. We can flog it. Sell it when we get home and make a mint."
The Doctor and Rhea looked at her. "No." They said, simultaneously.
"That would we bad?" Martha asked, knowing the answer.
"Yeah." The Doctor and Rhea said, simultaneously, again, their eyebrows arching at the same time.
"Well, how come it disappeared in the first place?" Martha asked, changing the subject.
"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 said, his excitement clear in his voice.
"Such a fanboy." Rhea muttered.
They had followed Shakespeare and his troupe back to the Elephant inn. They came to an open room, where Shakespeare sat with two other men at the table, a barmaid and a maid.
The Doctor knocked on the door. "Hello! Excuse me! I'm not interrupting, am I? Mr. Shakespeare, isn't it?" The Doctor said, excitedly.
Shakespeare looked annoyed and his head hung. "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-" He noticed Rhea and Martha standing behind the Doctor. More specifically, he noticed Rhea's hourglass frame and exotic features outlined in her dark makeup and tight leather pants and jacket, as well as, Martha's smooth, dark skin and slender figure in her maroon leather jacket and slim-fitting jeans. "Hey, nonny nonny. Sit right down here next to me." He leered at the two women. He turned to the two men sitting next to him. "You two get sewing on them costumes. Off you go."
The barmaid eyed Shakespeare's countenance and smiled knowingly. "Come on, lads. I think our William's found his new muse. Or muses."
"Sweet ladies." Shakespeare gestured to the now empty seats next to him.
Martha and Rhea sat at the table, the Doctor standing behind the latter, his hands on her shoulders in a proprietary manner. Rhea rolled her eyes and one of her hands went to his on her shoulders, covering it in a comforting manner. Oh, please, honey, nothing's going to happen between me and William Shakespeare.
"Such unusual clothes. So... fitted." Shakespeare eyed the tightness of their clothing.
"Um, verily, forsooth, egads." Martha stammered.
The Doctor shook his head, resisting the urge to face-palm. "No, no, don't do that. Don't." He held out his psychic paper to Shakespeare. "I'm Sir Doctor of TARDIS and this is my wife," He stressed the word to Shakespeare, narrowing his eyes at the man. "Begum Sunehri. And this is our companion, Miss Martha Jones." The Doctor introduced each of them, nonchalantly, completely missing Rhea's wide eyes and absolutely still frame.
"Interesting," Shakespeare frowned at the psychic paper, pointing. "That bit of paper. It's blank."
The Doctor looked impressed. "Oh, that's... very clever. That proves it. Absolute genius." He said, happily, forgetting his ire towards the man for a moment as he lowered the psychic paper.
Rhea took a look at the paper herself. "It just sort of shimmers for me. I can see what you just said," She looked at the Doctor. "Like one of those motion cards you get in snack boxes. I used to collect them when I was a little girl."
"That's because you've trained yourself to see past an illusion." The Doctor told her. Rhea frowned and was about to ask him to elaborate but he continued.
Martha peered at the paper herself. "No, it says so right there. Sir Doctor, Begum Sunehri, Martha Jones. It says so." She turned to the Doctor. "What's a begum?"
"And I say it's blank." Shakespeare said.
"Psychic paper." The Doctor muttered to Martha. "Um, long story. Oh, I hate starting from scratch." He put the psychic paper away.
"Psychic. Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you exactly? More's the point, who is your delicious blackamoor lady and your delightful eastern Scheherazade?"
"What did you just say?" Rhea and Martha both asked at the same time, sharply, offended.
"Oops." Shakespeare said, smiling a little sheepishly. "Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A Queen of Afric..." He turned to Rhea, who was barely resisting the urge to strangle him. "An Arabian sultana? A Mediterranean queen? A gypsy of Egypt?"
"I can't believe I'm actually hearing this." Martha said, bemused, letting out a shocked laugh.
The Doctor blew out a breath. "It's political correctness gone mad." The Doctor rubbed Rhea's arm, soothingly, seeing the fury in her eyes.
"I should punch him in the face on principle." Rhea muttered to the Doctor. "I'm not even Muslim!" Not that I have a problem with Muslims. But they probably don't have a word for half-Indian, half-Italian in 1599, even so, it's the principle of the thing. I'm not a fucking gypsy!
"Um, Martha and Rhea are from a far-off land. Freedonia." The Doctor explained the two women's reactions to Shakespeare's slurs.
Rhea rolled her eyes. "Freedonia?" Rhea hissed at him. He shrugged, having made it up on the spot.
A middle-aged man in livery, with a large curly beard, stormed into the room. "Excuse me!" The man scowled, interrupting them. "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." The man spat, the vein in his forehead bulging.
"Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it 'round." Shakespeare placated, sighing.
But it didn't stall the Master of the Revels. He shook his head. "I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine. The script, now!"
Shakespeare shook his head. "I can't." He said, sharply.
"Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled." The man said, smirking.
"It's all go, 'round here, isn't it?" Martha muttered to Rhea, who snorted in amusement.
"I'm returning to my office for a banning order." He turned back to face them once he was at the door. "If it's the last thing I do, 'Love's Labours Won' will never be played." The man growled, before walking out of the door in a huff.
"Well, then... mystery solved. That's 'Love's Labours Won' over and done with. Thought it might be something more, you know... more mysterious." Martha commented, taking a sip of her drink.
As if someone had heard Martha's words, they heard a scream coming from outside.
"And there's the cue." Rhea sighed and the Doctor and Rhea were on their feet, rushing in that direction, Martha close behind them.
They came out into the street to see the same man in livery who had just left, spitting up water as if he were choking.
"It's that Lynley bloke." Martha murmured.
"What's wrong with him?" The Doctor murmured. "Leave it to us, we're doctors." The Doctor shouted and went over to Lynley's side.
Rhea rushed after him, joining the Doctor beside the man as he coughed out jets of water. Rhea frowned when she looked at him, eyeing him from head to toe. The way he was coughing…
"So am I, near enough." She heard Martha say as she ran over to them.
"Doctor, he's not choking. I think he's drowning." Rhea called out to the Doctor just as Lynley fell to the ground. The Doctor stood and ran to look down the street, searching for something suspicious.
Martha rested her head on the man's chest, listening for a heartbeat and the state of his breathing. "Gotta get the heart going. Mr Lynley, c'mon, can you hear me? You're gonna be all right." She was just about to start resuscitating him when a final spurt of water gushed from his mouth and Rhea pulled her back. The Doctor returned and rejoined them at the prone figure.
"What the hell is that?" Martha asked, slightly afraid, looking between the two.
"He drowned." Rhea peered at the man. "His lungs were full of water." But he's on land?
"I've never seen a death like it. He drowned and then… I dunno, like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow." He stood and addressed the woman from the inn, in a serious tone. "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."
A young, blonde woman joined them. "I'll do it, ma'am." She murmured.
The Doctor crouched back down beside the body.
Martha frowned. "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." The Doctor whispered furiously.
"They'll think it was witchcraft." Rhea told Martha, quietly.
"Okay, what was it then?" Martha asked.
"Witchcraft." The Doctor said, lowly, staring at Rhea, each giving the other a dark look.
"I got you a room, Sir Doctor." The innkeeper told them. "You and Lady Sunehri are just across the landing and Miss Jones is in the room next to yours." She left the room.
"Poor Lynley. So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?" Shakespeare said, looking up at Rhea and Martha.
"Where a woman can be whatever she wants to be." Martha said, defensively, crossing her arms.
"And you, Sir Doctor." Shakespeare said, turning to the man in the pinstripe suit, his face hard and one of his hands resting on the small of Rhea's back, stroking lightly. "How can a man so young have eyes so old?"
"I do a lot of reading." The Doctor said, seriously.
"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do." He turned to Martha. "And you, you look at them like you're surprised they exist. They're as much of a puzzle to you as they are to me."
Martha stared at nothing in particular, awkwardly. "I should say goodnight." She gave Shakespeare a tight smile before walking out the door.
"And your lovely wife," He turned to Rhea. "Your eyes glow with distrust and look so tormented for someone so young, but you trust him." Shakespeare looked at the Doctor. Rhea tightened her hold on the Doctor's suit, pursing her lips.
"Okay, then!" Rhea drawled, clapping her hands after the awkwardness had passed slightly. "I think it's time for bed, don't you?" She said, looking meaningfully at the Doctor. When she was at the door, she turned back to face the Doctor. "Husband," She said, darkly. "If you know what's good for you, you'll join me." She purred, a dangerous smile that promised so much pain spreading across her face.
"I must work. I have a play to complete. But I'll get my answers tomorrow, Doctor, and I'll discover more about you and why this constant performance of yours." Shakespeare murmured.
The Doctor turned back at the doorway to look at Shakespeare. "All the world's a stage."
"Hm, I might use that. Good night, Doctor."
"Now!" The Doctor heard Rhea's sharp voice from the doorway of their room.
He sighed. "Coming, dear." He turned to Shakespeare briefly. "Nighty-night, Shakespeare."
When he arrived at the room he was sharing with Rhea, he was surprised when Rhea yanked him in by the lapels of his suit jacket and shut the door behind her, plastering her back against the door.
"You have one minute to answer all of my questions." Rhea began, dangerously, glaring at him.
The Doctor held his hands out in a surrender. "All right, calm down." He soothed.
"First question," Rhea carried on, as if she hadn't heard the Doctor. "Wife? You want to tell me when we got married?" Rhea said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Spoilers?" He tried, but he slammed his mouth shut when Rhea narrowed her eyes.
"Don't be smart with me, time boy." She said, sternly. "Give me a proper answer."
"Fine!" The Doctor let out an exasperated growl. "I didn't like the way Shakespeare was looking at you."
Rhea softened and then grinned widely. "You were jealous." She teased.
"I don't get jealous." The Doctor said, gruffly.
She moved closer to him, so that she was standing right in front of him, barely any space left between them. "You are such a liar." She whispered, patting him on the cheek, affectionately.
She looked around, examining their room, as the Doctor dropped his coat on a random chair.
"It's not very five-star, don't you think?" Rhea commented, her nose scrunching up as she stared at dirty walls and gritty furniture.
"Oh, it'll do. We've seen worse." The Doctor said, looking around himself.
Rhea raised an eyebrow and turned to him. "Well, I know I have. Where have you seen worse?"
"Spoilers."
"Shut up." Rhea muttered. She paused. "I don't have a toothbrush."
"Oh." The Doctor exclaimed, patting down his pockets and pulling out a toothbrush. "Contains Venusian spearmint." The Doctor smirked at her as he tossed her the brush.
"You think you're so impressive." Rhea rolled her eyes. She turned her attention back to the bed. The one bed. Big enough for two. The things we could get up to… shut up, Rhea.
"Are you going to sleep on the floor? 'Cause there's only one bed." Rhea said.
"Yeah, right." The Doctor rolled his eyes. "We'll manage. C'mon." He threw himself onto the bed.
"So, witchcraft, huh?" Rhea said, matter-of-factly, still standing as she glared at the Doctor, who was lounging on the bed, happily. "Isn't it very Harry Potter?"
"Have you read Book Seven? I cried." The Doctor said.
"Of course I read Book Seven." Rhea said. "Watched the movie too. Wasn't too bad. I loved the line, "Not my daughter, you bitch". It was very Sigourney Weaver."
"But could it be real? Could it actually be witches behind all of this?"
"'Course it isn't!" The Doctor scoffed.
Oh, no, you don't, time boy. "Oh, yeah, because it's not like I live in a fucked up version of reality or anything. It's not like I'm in a bedroom in 1599 with a 900-year-old, time-and-space travelling alien, who I travel out of order with, who has three different faces, one of whom is incredibly insulting and has a penchant for the same two suits." She glared at him.
"Ten different faces." The Doctor corrected, then he looked guilty. "Sorry." He muttered.
"Eleven different faces." Rhea corrected, and then smiled, letting him know that she hadn't taken his condescension to heart. "Spoilers." She thought of something. "You are sexy, though."
The Doctor gave her a pleased smile. "It looks like witchcraft, but it isn't. Can't be. Are you gonna stand there all night?" He said, suddenly, breaking her away from her thoughts.
Rhea sighed and walked over to the bed. "Move over, then." Rhea gave him a look. He shuffled across the bed, leaving one half open to her. She settled herself against the headboard, comfortably, her legs stretched across the bed. "There isn't much room. Although…tongues would wag if there was a lot of room. We are a married couple."
But the Doctor was oblivious to her teasing. "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." He shifted so that he was on his side, facing her. "What do you think?"
Rhea shrugged as best as she could in her position. "Maybe it's an alien that operates like a witch."
The Doctor frowned. He raised himself onto his elbow that he could look down at her. "What makes you say that?"
Rhea rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, everything that we've been through had to do with aliens somehow. We went to 1953 and the Queen's coronation and were confronted with a face-stealing alien in a television set. It always has to do with aliens."
"There's something I'm missing, Rhea." Rhea slid down the bed, so that they were the same height, and turned onto her hip, so that she was facing him as well. "Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it." He looked her in the eye and brushed a lock of her hair away from her face.
"Although…" Rhea trailed off, making the Doctor look at her. "Did you notice something? Why would Shakespeare announce to the crowd that Love's Labours Won was going to be performed tomorrow if he hadn't even finished the play? And isn't it suspicious that Lynley died just after he said that Love's Labours Won would never be performed?
"I think you may be right." He moved onto his back, breaking their eye contact. "Still, can't be helped. I'll take Martha back home tomorrow."
"Don't be so mean to Martha." Rhea said, sternly. "She's doing fine for her first trip and a fresh set of eyes might just be what you need." She paused and moved closer to him, placing a warm hand on his hip. "I know you've just lost Rose, but don't show it on Martha. She could be good for you."
The Doctor's eyebrows furrowed. "I have you, though."
"Oh, honey, of course you do, but I'm not always there and I'm not always the same. Martha can be more of a constant for you than I am, just like Rose was." She paused, then smiled at him. "You know, you didn't finish answering my questions. Why am I a begum? How do you even know what a begum is? And why are you 'Sir Doctor of TARDIS'?" She asked, mocking his title.
"You're a begum, because you felt being a Dame was too imperialist. As for how you became a begum and why I am 'Sir Doctor of TARDIS', spoilers." He said, cheekily. "Of course I know what a begum is. I know everything."
Rhea shrugged. "That does sound like me." She smiled, satisfied. "I kind of like the idea of being a begum. It sounds very Persian." She paused. "My grandmother is probably rolling around in her grave this very moment. Why does the psychic paper shimmer when I look at it?" She slid closer to him, resting her head on her arm.
"You don't believe in illusions." The Doctor said, bluntly. "You've trained yourself to look past illusions and see the truth of a situation. You're a warrior. That's why you can tell the difference between psychic paper and real paper. You're not a genius, like Shakespeare, that's why you can't just see blank paper."
"Oh, well, thanks." Rhea said, sarcastically. She snuggled into his side and shifted around, so that her back was pressed against his chest. "Put one of your arms around my waist." She ordered.
"What? Why?" The Doctor asked, confused.
"You're my husband." She purred. "You have to cuddle me when we sleep." She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, only half-joking.
The Doctor sighed and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. She rolled her eyes. She wasn't a cuddler, to be honest. She had never been cuddled in bed before. It felt nice. She wasn't a warm kind of person anyway. She was the kind of girl who put the air-conditioning on at night in the middle of winter. Her hand covered his hand over her waist and she burrowed into the pillow.
Hours had passed, and the Doctor remained wide awake, thinking about the events that had occurred during the day, specifically the questions Rhea had raised before she had fallen asleep. The woman, herself, had shifted in her sleep, facing him now instead of away. During her slumber, she had thrown her arm across his waist and nuzzled into his shoulder, humming with a soft smile, her head lying on his chest. Her legs had ended up entwined with his, her ankles locked around his, so that she was practically lying on top of him. One of his hands absently stroked up and down Rhea's spine and the other hand toyed with her hair, twisting her curls in his fingers. His lips pressed against the top of her head in a kiss, smiling down at her.
Rhea woke up, slowly, bleary-eyed. She narrowed her eyes at her surroundings and even more at the fact that she was currently lying on top of the Doctor. She blinked furiously. "What am I lying on top of you?" She asked, carefully, using her hand on his chest to push herself into a seating position.
"Um, well, you fell asleep and you sort of…" The Doctor motioned in a way that finished his explanation without any more words.
"Ah!" Rhea nodded. Well, it does feel good when I'm close to him… don't you dare. Flashes of claustrophobia singed her hands, forcing her to recoil away from the Doctor, from anyone who might try and touch her at a vulnerable time like when she was tired.
And, suddenly, it was awkward between them.
They both jumped up and were at the door the minute they heard a woman scream. When they rushed out the door, Rhea saw Martha coming out of her own room, no longer wearing her leather jacket, and following the Doctor and Rhea to where the scream had come from.
Shakespeare woke with a start when the three entered and they all stopped to examine the innkeeper's, Dolly's, body.
"Wha'? What was that?" Shakespeare asked, groggily.
Rhea and Martha ran to the window where they saw a silhouette of a woman on a broom flying in the sky.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." Rhea moaned, running her hands through her hair, gripping the strands tightly in a fit of stress and annoyance.
"Her heart gave out. She died of fright." The Doctor said.
"Doctor?" Martha called out and the Doctor joined the two women at the window.
"What did you see?" The Doctor asked, looking between the two.
"A witch." Rhea and Martha said, simultaneously.
The three of them sat opposite Shakespeare at his desk.
"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." Shakespeare said, mournfully, his grief for the woman clear in his voice.
"'Rage, rage against the dying of the light.'" The Doctor quoted.
"I might use that." Shakespeare said.
Rhea sighed, looking up at the playwright. "You can't. It's someone else's."
"But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright and they were both connected to you." Martha said, looking at Shakespeare.
Shakespeare raised an eyebrow, his hackles rising. "You're accusing me?"
"No, I don't think so. I don't think it has to do with you, specifically, I think it has to do with your play. This all started with 'Love's Labours Won'." Rhea mused.
"But I saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches." Martha said, looking at Shakespeare.
"I have?" Shakespeare's eyebrows furrowed. "When was that?"
"Not, not quite yet." The Doctor said, in a low voice.
"Peter Streete spoke of witches." Shakespeare suddenly said.
"Who's Peter Streete?" Martha asked.
"Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe."
"The architect. Hold on." The Doctor's eyes widened. He looked at Rhea, who was simply staring at him, bemused. "The architect! The architect!" He slammed his fist on the table, making all of them jump. "The Globe! Come on!"
He rushed off and Rhea gave the other two an apologetic look. "He does this a lot. They're like Eureka moments for him." Rhea was attempting to explain when the Doctor rushed back and grabbed her hand, pulling her along with him, forcing her to yelp, Martha and Shakespeare following them. "I'm coming! Calm down!"
The Doctor stood in the pit, while Martha, Shakespeare and Rhea were on the stage, the latter sitting on the edge and looking around, suspiciously.
"The columns there, right? 14 sides. I've always wondered but I never asked... tell me, Will, why 14 sides?" The Doctor asked, turning to look back at Shakespeare.
"It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all. Said it carried the sound well." Shakespeare said.
"Why does that ring a bell? 14…"
"There are 14 lines in a sonnet." Martha supplied.
The Doctor gave her a proud look. "So there is. Good point. Words and shapes following the same design." He started pacing. "14 lines, 14 sides, 14 facets…Oh, my head. Tetradecagon... think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!"
"This is just a theatre." Shakespeare said, defensively.
"Oh, but a theatre's magic, isn't it? You should know. Stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis a the right time... Oh, you can make men weep, or cry with joy, change them. You can change people's minds just with words in this place." The Doctor said, coming up and standing next to where Rhea's legs swung.
"And if you exaggerate that..." Rhea murmured.
"It's like you're police box. Small wooden box with all that power inside." Martha said.
"Oh, I like her." Rhea told the Doctor, pointing back at Martha. She, then, looked back herself. "Very much."
"Tell you what, though. Peter Streete would know. Can I talk to him?" The Doctor asked Shakespeare.
"You won't get an answer. A month after finishing this place... lost his mind."
"Why?" Rhea asked, her curiosity peaked. "What happened?" She threw herself down into the pit and turned to face Shakespeare, standing side-by-side with the Doctor.
"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled."
"Now that is interesting." Rhea said to the Doctor.
The Doctor nodded. "Where is he now?"
"Bedlam."
Rhea tensed. "Oh, wonderful." She said, sarcastically, running her hand through her hair in agitation. She cooled down after the Doctor squeezed her knee, looking at her in worry. She gave him a weary smile, letting him know she was alright.
"What's Bedlam?" Martha asked, looking between Rhea and Shakespeare.
"Bethlem Hospital. The madhouse."
"We're gonna go there. Right now. Come on." The Doctor said, heading out of the theatre, with Rhea at his side.
Martha followed, as did Shakespeare. "Wait! I'm coming with you. I want to witness this at first hand!"
Two young actors entered the theatre just as they were leaving. "Ralph, the last scene as promised. Copy it, hand it round. Learn it. Speak it. Back before curtain up. Remember, kid, project. Eyes and teeth. You never know, the Queen might turn up." Shakespeare told the actor, patting him on the back. "As if. She never does." He muttered on his way out.
"So, tell me of Freedonia, where women can be doctors, writers, actors." Shakespeare said to Martha, as they followed the Doctor and Rhea.
"This country's ruled by a woman." Martha said.
"Ah, she's royal. That's God's business." He eyed her. "Though you are a royal beauty." He leered.
Martha stopped, a bit flattered but a bit confused. "Whoa, Nelly! I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country."
"But Martha, this is Town." He said, cheekily.
"Come on. We can all have a good flirt later." The Doctor huffed. Rhea laughed and wrapped an arm around his waist.
"Is that a promise, Doctor?" Shakespeare grinned.
"Oh, 57 academics just punched the air." Rhea muttered to the Doctor, making him smirk at her.
"Move!" The Doctor ordered.
A/N: And that was the end of the first chapter of The Shakespeare Code. I hope you liked the chapter. And, by the way, I'm so glad you all seemed to like the sneak preview of Bad Moon Rising. Bad Moon Rising will actually be the second story in the series, my version of Season 2. But the actual series will start off in Dalek and continue through the rest of Season 1 and on. The first story will be called Dream Weaver and please don't ask me when it will be up, I have no idea yet.
This chapter brought out a few things about the Doctor's and Rhea's relationship and about Rhea herself. First of all, the title, it's a pun on the movie, The Witches of Eastwick, starring Jack Nicholson, Michelle Pfeiffer, Cher and Susan Sarandon. I thought it would be fitting for this episode.
I always thought that Rhea might feel that way in Shakespeare's London, because she isn't white. She does have a similar problem to Martha in the sense that they wouldn't exactly fit in. And there was some jealousy in this chapter, Rhea would never go for Shakespeare, so, don't worry. And it was sweet how she told the Doctor he was her favourite guy in the world.
There was a lot of cultural stuff in this chapter as well, especially in that first scene between Shakespeare, the Doctor, Rhea and Martha. The Doctor called Rhea his wife! Is that a hint to something or is he just jealous? As for why he called her Begum, instead of Dame or Lady, Begum is a title given to women, at least since the 18th century, of aristocratic rank, like a knight's wife. The British Empire did used to give out that title and I felt it would be appropriate for Rhea in that situation. Rhea will have some problems in Tooth and Claw, she won't be able to adapt as quickly as the Doctor and Rose did, mainly because she is part Indian. As an Indian, I am aware that the British occupation of India is a very sore concept for a lot of Indians in today's day as well and I thought it would be interesting to add that dynamic. Rhea will show that more in Tooth and Claw, but I thought it would be nice if I gave you a little sneak preview.
As for what Shakespeare called Rhea, India didn't really have a lot of place in Shakespeare's time, so I decided to go with a Persian kind of influence with what he said, like "sultana", "Mediterranean" and "gypsy of Egypt", because at that time India was heavily influenced by Persia. And please don't take Rhea's comment about not being Muslim to heart, she has no problem with Muslims and neither do I, she's just pointing out the complete inaccuracy with what Shakespeare's calling her.
And there was a nice scene between Rhea and the Doctor in the bedroom, don't you think? There was a lot of flirting. And she doesn't take any crap from him, she gives it right back and she told him to be nicer to Martha. Rhea hasn't had the chance to get close to Rose yet, so she's not feeling the loss yet. There was a nice scene between the Doctor and Rhea will she was sleeping as well. And I hope you thought the psychic paper explanation believable. I didn't want her to be a genius and just see blank paper, but I wanted her to be able to see the difference between real and psychic paper. More about Rhea's "training" will come through in later chapters. And I think "warrior" sort of sums up Rhea at the moment. And Bedlam. Bedlam is going to affect Rhea in quite a few ways. Stick around and find out!
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