Expelliarmus?
oooh another chapter quickly. i'm trying to do one a week. i've decided that i'm not going to do every episode,
just certain scenes, like in this one, and concentrate more on my own story and the bits inbetween. this is not
and 'series 3 with rose' series, so ... we might deviate from the track a little, but i still want to do some episodes.
and i know what sex the baby is going to be, but i haven't decided on a name yet. drop some reviews with any
suggestions for names for any sex (coz i ain't telling you!) and i'll love you forever. picking a name is really hard.
It was 1599 and there was poo in the streets.
They had just witnessed the death of Linley, and they were still puzzled by it. The Doctor had spent half an hour pulling his hair out over it, until Rose had to physically stop him saying that she was quite attached to his hair and it wouldn't quite be the same with him bald. Dolly had shown them to a double room, apologising profusely as it was the only one they had at such short notice.
Rose sat on the bed, legs dangling off the side, while the Doctor was perched in a chair beside it - he had taken to liberty of putting his feet on Rose's lap, and after several pokes in a useless attempt to move them, she gave up and settled for tickling his ankle instead. Martha was sleeping soundly in the bed as well, beside Rose. The Doctor, being a perfect gentleman, had offered that the two girls take the bed while he take the chair. Neither had protested.
"Martha's taking it well, isn't she? If I recall, you were still up 36 hours after meeting the Nestene."
"Well, you were the one that suggested coffee," Rose reasoned, as the Doctor laughed silently. "And yeah, she is, I guess," she added, looking over at the sleeping woman.
"She's the first one to suggest we record something and sell it, I'll give her that," he said, smirking slightly at the memory.
Rose gasped. "I know! I almost died laughing right there. That never ever even went through my head, to be honest," she said, contemplating. "Nah, I never thought that. Was too busy seeing the beauty of the Earth being destroyed," - a little bit of sarcasm slipped into her voice - "to be too bothered about recording it."
"I'm glad. Otherwise, I would be taking Jack with me, not you," he teased, nudging her knee with his foot.
"So you're telling me if I had said 'wait, let me go get my camcorder' when you were picking me up outside the London Eye beside Mickey in your other body, then you would have went 'Nah, just forget about coming with me then' and slammed the door in my face?" Instead of being angry, Rose just looked amused.
"Something along those lines," he said nonchalantly, sniffing.
"What about my camera?" Rose said, tongue poking out of her teeth in her smile.
"You can keep that. I would have let you keep the camcorder as well if you had let me keep Arthur," he said, looking slightly put out.
"Oh, for the love of God, give it up about Arthur! He's a horse, horses can't live on the TARDIS!" she said, before wincing and turned around to see if she'd awoken Martha; the woman in question just snored on.
"Horses could so live in the TARDIS," the Doctor whispered loudly, so loud it was almost a stage whisper. "You didn't want all the pet food being used, that was your problem. Instead you wasted it on Mickey-the-Idiot."
"One, you bet me a tenner to feed that to Mickey and two, don't go comparing them … oh, my god, Mickey!" Rose said, bringing both hands to her mouth in a gasp. "He just wandered off and we left him! Oh, he'll think we're really awful now."
The Doctor huffed. "Don't go worry about Our Lord Mickey. He'll coming running as soon as he hears the TARDIS, he always does. We'll go back and try and make it right. Maybe introduce him to Martha. They could keep each other company on Earth," the Doctor said, looking proud of his (if he does say so himself) stupendous idea.
"Yeah. He can say 'I've met Madame de Pompadour' and she can say 'I've met Shakespeare'. Like me and Sarah-Jane; who's met the most monsters?"
"I can't believe we met Shakespeare, though. That is something to tell your mother," the Doctor said, as Rose beamed.
"I know! I had to study Love's Labour's Lost in school, it was so boring, but seeing it live made it so much easier to understand, somehow," she mused. "Wait, was the TARDIS translating?"
"Not exactly. She may have made certain words easier for us to understand; like archaic sayings they said that we wouldn't even know what they meant. But I think it was just your ape brain actually working for once that let you understand." His comment was met with the sharp kick in the shin.
Someone screamed, and it wasn't the Doctor.
(He had let out an unmanly yelp, though.)
The Doctor and Rose were out the door before it had ended; Martha had awoken, mumbling 'whazzat?' before stumbling out the bed, ten steps behind them.
Dolly Bailey was lying on the ground, evidently dead. "She died of fright!" Martha said, coming to her senses on sight of the dead body and starting checking Dolly with the Doctor. Rose was over at the window, staring at the figure which was rapidly turning into a black dot.
"What is it, Rose? What did you see?" the Doctor said, rushing over to her.
"A witch," she said bluntly, looking at him with slight fear.
"Are you sure?" he said, although his eyes told her he knew the answer. He truly believed her.
"Totally," she said, "She was cackling and everything. Straight out of Macbeth," she said, dropping her voice so only the Doctor could hear the last part.
"Witchcraft … I think that's what's causing the deaths," he said, as Martha was still trying to revive Dolly behind them.
"Witchcraft? As in spells or as in voodoo?" Rose said sarcastically, but the Doctor stared at her, then starting beaming like a loon.
"Are you smiling because I made a fool of myself, or because I got something right?" Rose said, smirking. She didn't mind either way.
"Because you're a genius," he said, giving her a small kiss before speaking again. "Voodoo. Of course! A voodoo doll and a bucket of water - dry land drowning!"
"So the witch dunked the Linley doll in water and it killed the real Linley?" Rose said, dumbfounded.
The Doctor nodded. "I think so."
"Wow, that's some powerful magic," she said, looking a little bit fearful as she gazed into the night.
After visiting the architect, Peter Streete and realising the creatures that were masquerading as witches were actually Carrionites, the Doctor, Rose, Martha and Shakespeare were back in the latter's room discussing the recent events. Peter had also died, bringing the tally of the dead up to three, which was too high a number for the Doctor's liking; or for anyone's liking, really.
"The Carrionites disappeared way back at the dawn of the universe," the Doctor said, pacing up and down as he ran a hand through his hair. Rose sat on the desk, swinging her legs back and forth, one hand resting on her stomach, while Martha leant against a bureau on the other side of the small room. Shakespeare was … doing whatever Shakespeare does. "No-one was really sure if they were real or just legend."
"I'm going for real," Shakespeare said, and earned a nod from Martha. Shakespeare brightened; he'd taken quite a shine to Martha, and had done to Rose, before the Doctor made it very clear that Shakespeare could have Martha all he liked, but Rose was his. He hadn't made a move since, because even Shakespeare knew the Doctor could probably be a dangerous man when riled.
"What do they want, Doctor? Invasion like the Daleks, or the planet itself like the Slitheen? They said there was a whole race," Rose said, remembering the Carrionites word's.
"They want a new empire on Earth," he said, leaning against the desk Rose was perched on and turned his head slightly to see her. "A world of bones and blood and witchcraft," he spat, almost bursting the 'b's.
"But how will they get that? There is only three of them against what, six billion? Or something," Martha said.
"I'm looking at the man with the words."
The Doctor, Martha and Rose all turned to Shakespeare.
He looked back, dumbfounded. "But I've done nothing."
"Hold on; what were you doing last night, when that Carrionite I saw was in the room?" Rose asked.
"Finishing the play," he replied, as if this was the most obvious answer ever to a question.
"What happens on the last page?" the Doctor asked, his eyes going wide. Rose smirked inwardly; this meant his fantastic brain had clicked everything together and more likely than not had come to the right conclusion. Now all that was left was for their slower, human brains (because Rose was part-Time Lord physically, not mentally) to catch up with his. Rose didn't think it would take a brilliant mind like Shakespeare's, whose mind only paled in comparison to the Doctor's, to long to work it out.
"The boys get the girls, they all have bit of a dance," Shakespeare replied; Rose and Martha shared a look. Pity they probably wouldn't get to see it. "It's all as funny and thought-provoking as usual ..." he trailed off, looking down. When he looked up again, his eyes were also wide in enlightenment, and Rose knew he'd realised whatever the Doctor had realised ten seconds ago. "Except those last few lines. Funny thing is … I don't actually remember writing them."
"They used you," the Doctor said, pushing off the desk and walking over to Shakespeare. "They gave you the final words. Likea spell, like a code. 'Love's Labours Won' — it's a weapon! The right combination of words, spoken at the right place with the shape of the Globe as an energy converter! The play's the thing!" he said, turning back to Rose before whirling around and facing Shakespeare again. "And yes, you can have that." Everyone laughed, despite the solemn atmosphere.
"Stop the play! Yeah, I think that's what I said, stop the play!" the Doctor yelled, as they rushed from All Hallows Street (after a rather unfriendly encounter with the youngest Carrionite) to the Globe only to find Shakespeare semi-concious amongst the hay rubbing his head. After a quick rekkie, it was clear he was at the side of the stage and the play was still running.
"I hit my head," Shakespeare said, pointing to his head. Clearly the Doctor did not know where Shakespeare's head was.
The Doctor looked as if he was about to rip Shakespeare's head off. A few deep breaths and he was calm, but still was about to let rip. "Yeah, don't rub it, you'll go bald," he said, before a scream echoed from the stage. "And I think that's our cue!" he said, grabbing Rose's hand and bursting through the doors; Martha did the same with Shakespeare.
The Carrionites were clearly winning, as the whole Globe was overcome with red light and lightening. Thunder rumbled somewhere. "So begins the Millennium of Blood!" they called, holding some sort of crystal ball up into the sky. They began to cackle, and the remaining Carrionites were freed from the ball and flew around the Globe. The audience were screaming, clearly terrified.
"Come on, Will! History needs you!" the Doctor grabbed Shakespeare and pulled him forward; there was a strong wind that begged to push them back, but the four held firm.
"But what can I do?"
"Reverse it, goddamnit!" Rose said impatiently, struggling not to fall backwards into the stage wall. She braced herself against it, one hand over her stomach and the other in Martha's, trying to anchor herself.
"And how am I supposed to do that?"
"The shape of the Globe gives the words power, but you're the wordsmith!" the Doctor yelled above the din of cackling Carrionites, screaming showgoers and the inpossibly strong wind. "The one true genius! The only man clever enough to do it!"
"But what words? I have none ready!"
The Doctor huffed. "You're William Shakespeare!" he said, hitting him lightly on the chest.
"But these … Carrionite phrases, they need such … precision!"
"Trust yourself. When you're locked away in your room, the words just come, don't they? Like magic. Words of the right sound, the right shape, the right rhythm — words that last forever! That's what you do, Will! You choose perfect words. Do it. Improvise!" the Doctor said, before standing back beside Rose, who quickly clasped his hand not only for comfort but also for support; she was quickly getting tired struggling against the gale.
"Close up this den of hateful, dire decay! Decomposition of your witches' plot! You thieve my brains, consider me your toy. My doting Doctor tells me I am not!" Shakespeare started, and with a glance upwards Rose smiled; the Carrionites were screaming. "Foul Carrionite spectres, cease your show! Between the points … "
He looked to the Doctor. The Doctor thought for a moment, only a few seconds at the most. "7-6-1-3-9-0!"
"7-6-1-3-9-0!" Shakespeare repeated, throwing a hand towards the Carrionites. "And banished like a tinker's cuss, I say to thee … " Again, he seemed to be lost for words. He looked to the Doctor, who looked to Rose, who looked to Martha.
"Expelliarmus!" Martha yelled, and Rose beamed. The Doctor was grinning widely too.
"Expelliarmus!" Rose yelled, glee lighting her features.
"Expelliarmus!" the Doctor bellowed back to Shakespeare.
"Expelliarmus!" Shakespeare shouted the word, and the Carrionites screamed long and loud, high-pitched wailing filling the Globe.
"Good old JK!" the Doctor added, and Rose whooped loudly as paper started flying around everywhere.
"Love's Labour's Won?" Rose asked.
"Love's Labour's Won," the Doctor confirmed, as it all went up with the Carrionites; back to deep dark space where they belonged.
The TARDIS door closed with a snap, the arrow making a twang sound as it embedded itself into the door. It materialised away, the pilot putting the ship into the Vortex.
All three occupants were silent.
One, the oldest female, coughed after about five minutes of staring at the glowing rotor, moving up and and down in tandem. She didn't move her eyes from the rotor. "Was that Queen Elizabeth I?"
"Yep," the male said, also keeping his eyes glued to the same spot.
"And she tried to shoot us?" the youngest female added, disbelief evident in her tone.
"With a bow and arrow," the Doctor confirmed.
Rose was the first one to tear her eyes away from the green glow, and instead snapped onto the Doctor's figure. "I can't believe she tried to shoot us."
"Ah," he said, now looking at her. "At least we get to meet Queen Elizabeth I!"
Rose matched his exuberance. "I know! And we manage, somehow, to piss her off."
"Maybe we ask her, politely if I do so add, if she was a werewolf."
Rose nodded. "Mental note made to ask her."
Martha snapped out of her trance. "Wait, don't you not want to ask her?"
"No, we want to ask her. Because it's an event. We obviously are her 'sworn enemies'," Rose said, making air quotes with her first two fingers. "And timelines and stuff … we have to stick to them or the universe will implode, according to him. A big ball of Timey wimey stuff." Him, confirmed by a throw of a thumb over her shoulder, indicted to the Doctor.
Who, incidentally, was looking at Rose with such pride that Martha was scared that he'd initiate a snogging session. Again.
Martha coughed, although she was actually coughing rather than clearing her throat. Rose smiled, and rubbed her back, trying to ease her coughs. "Anyone for tea?"
"Thought you'd never ask," the Doctor said, rubbing his hands together. "And Martha, an impromptu tour of the TARDIS!"
"Do you get that a lot?" Martha asked, as she and Rose walked leisurely to the kitchen; the Doctor had bounded on ahead, gibbering nonsense about the kettle and short-circulating the heltic regulator. Or something like that.
"Not really," Rose said, pointing to the living room. "Sometimes. Like, odd times. Once, someone came up to me, thanking me profusely for something. I had no idea what it was. Two weeks later, met the same woman, but she didn't have a clue who I was. Like he said - big ball of timey wimey stuff. Time ain't a straight line and all that."
Martha nodded, but looked confused. She looked at Rose and laughed, her female friend joining in. "Right. I understood nothing of that."
Rose stopped outside a room; judging from the whistling coming within it (Britney Spears' 'Hit Me Baby Once More Time' if Martha's ears were in prime condition), it was the kitchen. "If I'm honest," Rose said, leaning towards Martha as if she didn't want the Doctor to hear, "I don't either. He says it so much that it lodges itself in there!" She pointed to her brain.
Martha giggled, and pushed open the door to the sight of the Doctor, eyes closed, singing Britney Spears - Martha did know her pop music, thanks very much - and battering a spoon against the mugs, counter and cupboard alternatively in time with the music. His head was bopping along to the music, and his singing really was loud. And bad. Dreadfully off-key, as a matter of fact. And then he started dancing, wiggling his bum in time with his singing. Needless to say, his dancing was like your dad's dancing after a one or ten drinks at a family wedding that everyone laughs at on the camcorder a week later. Embarrassing for him, cringe-worthy for everyone.
Rose had her bottom lip trapped in between her teeth, in a vain attempt to stifle the laugh; Martha had her fist wedged in her mouth. Rose, apparently unable to take the sight anymore, released her bottom lip and her laughter was let out in a bark, before collapsing in hysterics. That set Martha off, and soon they were both hugging each other, leaning against the door.
The Doctor had turned around swiftly at Rose's bark, his cheeks the name colour as Rose's name, and was now looking at the two as if they really didn't have to do this. It wasn't necessary, any other time would do to laugh at his expense.
"T-Tea ready?" Rose said, after a good few minutes. She was struggling to catch her breath, gasping for air in between the streaks of tears streaming down her face. Thank God for waterproof mascara.
"Yes," he said promptly, putting three cups of tea down on the table, leaving the sugar and milk out for Martha's benefit. He knew what Rose liked in her tea so he would be able to do it blindfolded if he ever felt the desire to.
Martha pulled out a seat, dunking a sugar and a lot of milk into her tea before stirring it thoughtfully. Taking a sip, she asked, "Did Shakespeare just recite 'Shall I Compare Thee' to me?"
The Doctor, who thankfully had swallowed his sip of tea, nodded and laughed. "I don't think he just recited it, Martha … I think he made it for you. Sonnet 18."
Martha spluttered. "No … no he did not!"
"Your his Dark Lady," the Doctor said, quite matter-of-factly, teasing her.
"That has got to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Martha replied, accepting the offer of a chocolate biscuit and dunked it into her tea.
Rose, meanwhile, had passed on chocolate biscuits and had instead grabbed a bag-of-five doughnuts (jam, of course) and had opened the bag and bit into one before she'd even sat down.
"Hungry, Rose?" Martha said, gesturing to the doughnuts.
"Craving," Rose replied through a mouthful of jam, sugar coating her lips before she swiped them clean with a quick dart of her tongue.
The Doctor looked on, amused. "I know, why don't you tell Martha how you got the doughnuts, Rose? I'm sure she's in the mood for a lau- blimey, I was only suggesting!" the Doctor said, rubbing his shin where he was sure a bruise was appearing after Rose had kicked him with her perfect aim. Or at least it was perfect when it came to violence towards him, anyway.
"There's a story there," Martha said.
"Okay, so I pushed a fat fifty-year-old woman to the ground to get them, so what? Makes them taste better," Rose huffed, as Martha gasped.
"You did not!" was her response, gaping at the younger woman.
"She did. It was hilarious," the Doctor said, leaning away with a shout as Rose aimed another kick at him. "Okay, new moral: don't get in the way of pregnant women when they're craving something."
"I think it's more: don't get in the way of any woman when she's craving something."
"Exactly, Martha," Rose said in agreement, raising her mug to Martha, who responded with a clink from her mug.
"I guess … " the Doctor said aloud, and two heads whipped towards him.
"That Newton's Three Laws of Motion are incorrect? Again?" Rose asked, amused. Earlier, the Doctor had proclaimed that he believed that Newton was incorrect.
"No," he said, sticking his tongue out at her, "I was thinking, I offered you one trip, Martha, to say thanks. But … how about one trip in the past and one trip into the future? It's still technically one trip, just in each direction."
"Oh, my God … 'kay! The future? Do we all have like silver jumpsuits and hoverboards and stuff?" Martha asked, face alight at the prospect of another trip.
Rose looked equally as excited to have a friend on board. "I've not seen any silver jumpsuits in the future unless your a cyberman … oh, we'll have to find you a room to stay the night in, c'mon, let's see if the TARDIS has a spare … well, obviously she will, but we'll have to find it first … " Rose pulled a enthusastic Martha out of the kitchen and into the corridor, blabbing all the way about the future, leaving the Doctor alone in the kitchen with three lukewarm teas, realising that he now had not one woman on board, but two. And one was pregnant.
What had he just gotten himself into?