Hey, look! It's chapter 5!

So, I'm really nervous about this chapter. There's a bit of Kylie's story, mainly her 'species'. Tell me what you think? Does it fit? Should I rewrite it? Do you even understand what's going on?

Also, a question. Would you prefer:
A) Short chapters but frequent updates, or
B) Long chapters that may take more time to write

I want to thank all of you awesome reviewers! Thank you, thank you, thank you. You have no idea how happy you make me:)

FirePheonix15: Oh. My. God. My head just exploded. I think I would have never thought of that! I'm going to seriously consider it, see if it fits with the other ideas I have. Seriously you just- I don't- ugh you left me speechless for a while there hahaha
Nights Eternal Dream: Thank you! That's a HUGE relief. And yeah, Kylie's got some thing up her sleeve and who know how the Doctor will react after he finds out;)
Idonthaveaccount: Thank you!
Flower: Thank you, too!
Ruby: Really? hahaha that's good:)

One last thing. I'd like to warn you that English is NOT my first language. But I'm trying, guys. I'm really sorry if something doesn't really make sense. My head keeps translating from spanish to english and some things just don't sound the same.

Anyway, here we go!

We landed, and the Doctor opened the door for us. His eyes were trained on Martha's face, and I could see why. Time and space traveling wasn't anything particularly new to me (though traveling with the last Time Lord on his TARDIS was a completely new experience.) But for Martha? This was momentous. Life changing. Her life had changed forever from this point on.

I wasn't surprised to hear the Doctor had failed the test to fly the TARDIS. Sure, it was much smoother than the Timepiece's journey, and infinitely safer, but nevertheless, the way the Doctor jumped and twirled around the console made me think that there was probably a much more graceful way of flying the spaceship, than bumbling about and pressing whichever button looked like it needed pressing.

The street we found ourselves in was cobbled and lit with torchlight. Women in dresses and men with hats hurried by. Human fashion was a mystery to me, but I knew enough to know we had traveled back, not forwards.

"Mind the loo!"

A hand grabbed the back of my shirt and I flew back into the Doctor's chest. Just in time. A woman from the second floor tipped a bucket out the window, and the contests splashed a few feet away from me.

I stepped away form the Doctor's arms, pulling a face as the smell of the contents reached me.

"Somewhere before the invention of the toilet," The Doctor was telling Martha. Then, he turned to me. "Sorry about that."

I waved if off, mumbling a thank you.

"But are we safe?" Martha asked as we strolled around. "I mean, can we move around and stuff?"

"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."

I stared at Martha, perplexed. A butterfly?

The Doctor stopped, shooting Martha a look and rolling his eyes. "Well, tell you what then, don't step on any butterflies," He frowned. "What have butterflies ever done to you?"

"What if, I dunno," she continued. "What if I kill my grandfather?"

I eyed her. "What exactly are you planning, Martha?" I asked, amused.

"What? No! I'm not planning anything. Oh, bullocks. What, and, well, when are we?"

"London," the Doctor considered. "Right about 1599."

"Oh, but hold on," Martha stopped, with a hand on each of our shoulders. "Am I all right? I'm not gonna get carted off as a slave, am I?"

Something clicked in my head, a reminder of one of my previous trips to Earth. "Oh, I actually know what you're talking about!" I exclaimed.

Martha looked at me strangely. "What?" She asked before understanding dawned on her. She ran a hand over her face, continuing speaking without giving me a chance to respond. "I almost forget you're alien sometimes, Kylie. Him?" She signaled the Doctor. "He acts and talks all weird sometimes. If it weren't for the strange thing in your arm, I would immediately assume you're human. And it even looks like a wristwatch so it would be a complete lucky guess."

She sighed again.

I smiled, meeting the Doctor's eyes for a second. "What can I say? We Osirien look a lot like you humans."

"Osirien?" she asked. "Is that what you are?"

I nodded.

The Doctor strode forward, taking the spotlight. And so easily, I might add. "Quite an interesting story. A traveling human was completely taken in with a siren. One with legs, mind you. Next thing you know, everyone's doing it and BAM! You got the Osirien."

"Wait, so you're part human? Human and siren? A siren?" Martha asked, bewildered.

"Physically, she looks like a human, I suppose," the Doctor said, quickly walking around me like he was inspecting me. I followed his movements with my eyes. "But Osirien are much tougher. Skin, hair, health, they're all much more stronger than humans'."

"And age." I added.

"Oh, yes. They live almost - nine, was it? - Yes, nine times more than humans. Yes, a human and a siren. Much more further into your future, when humans have already traveled out of this galaxy. She's the only Osirien existing right this moment. And yes, sirens." He rambled on. "Kinda like mermaids, I suppose. Only some can shift their tails into legs. And they sing rather beatifically. Oh, and Osirien, they're quite good at swimming."

Martha met my eyes, and I laughed when I noticed how hers had widened incredulously.

"He pretty much just summed my entire species up." I told her. "And about your question, I doubt they will do anything to you."

"Why would they do that?" the Doctor asked, perplexed.

"Not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed." She said.

"Well, we're not even human. Just walk about like you own the place. Works for me." We continued walking. "Besides, you'd be surprised. Elizabethan England, not so different from your time. Look over there," he pointed at a pile of hay and manure being scooped up into a bucket, "They've got recycling," Then to a group of men conversing at a water barrel, "Water cooler moment," and then to a man, preaching about the world's end in fire. "Global warming."

Then he jumped in front of us, walking backwards as he smile stretched. "And of course!" he continued. "Entertainment." We crossed a corner and he stopped, spreading his arms wide. "Ladies, I present you, the newly opened, Globe Theater!" he paused. "Though, strictly speaking, it's not a globe; it's a tetradecagon – 14 sides – containing the man himself."

"You don't mean," Martha started, awed. "Is Shakespeare in there?"

"Oh, yes," He let out, relishing the syllable. He held out his arms, one to each of us. "Miss Jones, Miss Reynolds, will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the theatre?"

We linked our arms in his.

"Yes, Mr. Smith, I will," Martha said.

I grinned at him. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The Globe Theater was packed, and for good reason.

The actors were bowing onstage, over and over, as the audience went wild with their applause and cheers. The play had been fantastic.

"That's amazing!" Martha yelled over the crowd's noise. "Just amazing! It's worth putting up with the smell. And those men dressed as women, yeah."

"London never changes," The Doctor said.

I looked over at him, intrigued. "What?"

He laughed. "I'll explain later."

"Where's Shakespeare? I wanna see Shakespeare." Martha said. Then she started chanting, "Author! Author! Do people even say that?"

The Doctor and I exchanged glances, but we were surprised when suddenly the crowd took up the chant and spread, until the whole theater was shouting Author!

Shakespeare finally made his appearance. He was a handsome man, with wavy brown hair and a bit of a beard on his jaw. He had a dark jacket, open to reveal a loose white shirt and a bit of skin. Definitely attractive.

He stands near the stage's end, bowing exaggeratedly and blowing kisses.

"He's a bit different from his portraits," Martha commented.

"How so?" I asked her.

"He's, oh, compared to his portrait his utterly-"

"Handsome?" I interrupted.

She grinned. "Yes."

We shared a chuckle and I could almost feel the Doctor rolling his eyes.

"Genius," He said. "He's a genius. The genius. The most human Human that's ever been. Now we're gonna hear him speak. Always, he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words."

Shakespeare took a breath, and we watched, awed.

"Shut your big fat mouths!"

I was taken aback. Maybe the Doctor had confused this man. Perhaps, that's why he didn't look like the man in the portraits.

The audience didn't seem to have a problem with his words. They burst in laughter.

The Doctor looked disappointed. "Oh, well."

"You should never meet your heroes," Martha interjected, also looking a bit let down.

"You have excellent taste!" Shakespeare said. "I'll give you that." Then he pointed to a man in the audience. "Oh, that's a wig!"

The audience laughed, and even Martha cracked a grin.

"I know what you're all saying," he continued. "'Loves Labour's Lost', that's a funny ending, isn't it? It just stops! Will the boys get the girls?" He paused, smiling slowly as he enjoyed the crowd's attention. "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 winked at the audience.

Suddenly, in a move almost unnatural, he snapped right out of his relaxed pose, instantaneously jerking upright.

"When?" He told the audience, after a brief gap of stunned silence. "Tomorrow night!"

The audience cheered even louder.

"That was weird," I muttered under my breath, eyeing the cast members, who seemed stunned.

"The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it 'Loves Labour's Won!'"

Even Martha had joined in with the cheering. The Doctor, however, remained noticeably silent.

Something was not right – it was evident on his stance alone. It took me one look at his face to know.

He wasn't going to let this one go.