I woke up feeling far more refreshed and despite the mental urge to stay under the covers for longer, I begrudgingly pushed myself upright and rubbed the crust from my eyes. I sat on the edge of my bed for a moment, mind not yet waking up to the fact that I'd fallen asleep on a cot in the Marshal's Office and had somehow woken up in my bed until there was the familiar hum of the Tardis. I closed my eyes again, pressing my palms to them for a moment before trying to get my slow-churning mind to work. Finally, I just got up and went toward the discus tank watching as the large, multicolored fish swam around for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"What it'd be like to be a fish, not getting jerked around all willy-nilly when you're asleep or getting ditched in the desert or imprisoned."

I sighed again and stretched before moving to take a shower and get rid of any clinging dirt from my two-day trek. Once finished I idly pulled on some jeans and a random t-shirt and hoodie before leaving my room. I wasn't sure which Doctor I was with nor did I really care at the moment. I wanted food and whatever insanity I was about to step into could wait until I had something to eat. The Tardis seemed to understand this as well and finding the kitchen wasn't difficult. I made myself a simple breakfast of eggs, chopped hotdogs, added some fruit, and made sure to pack a water bottle in my hoodie this time along with some granola bars and small snacks.

I had to resist the urge to put half the kitchen in my hoodie pocket when I realized that the items I put in seemed to disappear—much like the Doctor's coat with its infinite pockets—and only added a couple of cans of soda and energy drinks before taking the two pieces of toast left over from my breakfast and heading out into the console room. The Tenth Doctor was at the console and Martha Jones was wandering around as I stepped in and leaned on the upper railing.

"But is there a crew, like a navigator and stuff? Where is everyone?" Martha asked as the Doctor hummed.

"Just me."

"All on your own?"

"Well, sometimes I have guests. I mean some friends, traveling alongside. I had. There was recently, a friend of mine. Rose, her name was. Rose. And we were together. Anyway…" He spotted me then and cracked a smile, gesturing toward me. "Then, there's Asher of course."

I gave Martha a little wave, chewing idly at my toast that the Doctor gave a small double-take at before shaking his head.

"What happened to her?" Martha asked. "Rose?"

"With her family. Happy. She's fine. She's—Not that you're replacing her."

"Never said I was," Martha muttered as I rolled my eyes and moved down to the jumpseat on the lower level.

Always forget how awkward these two are early on. It… It is early for them, right? The Doctor confirmed that for me as he spoke.

"Just one trip to say thanks. You get one trip, then back home. I'd rather be on my own. Or, well, with Asher until she pops off again," he said, giving me a look.

"Hey, not like I have a choice, you know," I huffed. "You're talking like I enjoy getting dragged off randomly to who-knows-where."

"Well—"

"Don't 'well' me. Let me jerk you by the arm and drop you off in the middle of the desert for two days. Or, hey, I know. Let me do that after I throw you into the middle of a Cyberman-Dalek invasion plot so you can be imprisoned for who-knows-how-long first and see how much you enjoy getting thrown around."

"You got imprisoned one time—"

"For now, or need I remind you of how your life works, hm?" I challenged and he opened his mouth only for me to eye him and he closed it with a sheepish smile. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Martha, who'd been silently watching this discussion happen, finally spoke up. "Yeah, why did you kiss me if you two are a thing?"

"T-That was a genetic transfer!" The Doctor blurted out as I awkwardly took a bite of my toast and kept my gaze firmly away from either of them.

I knew that the Doctor and I get married at some point—something still weird to think about—but this Doctor obviously didn't, given his fumbling excuses. Since I had issues getting my thoughts across verbally anyway, I decided to let him try and talk his way out of this instead of me making it worse.

"So, you're not together?" Martha concluded with a dubious look.

"No. We're just… partners," the Doctor tried again as Martha hummed.

"Right. And if you wear a tight suit…"

"Now, don't," he pressed.

"And then travel across the universe on dates…"

"Stop it. It's not like that. We're not…" He glanced at me for a moment that felt a little too long, and I raised a brow before he swallowed thickly and turned back to her. "We're just good friends, is all."

"Well, for the record?" Martha said, leaning to look past him and over at me. "I'm not remotely interested. I only go for humans."

I wasn't sure why she was telling me this and just offered a shrug, pointing my last piece of toast at the Doctor. "I'll be honest, there's a bit of an age gap. You know, a good 900 years or so. Dunno if I'd want to date an old man."

"Hey!" The Doctor complained, not really offended as I cracked a small smile.

"Come on, spaceman. Thought you said we were going somewhere."

He pointed a finger at me as he started to get the Tardis ready. "You're being a bit cheeky, you are."

I shrugged, stretching across the jump seat a bit. "Slept well, got cleaned up, and had a good breakfast after nearly dying in the desert. Sorry if finally getting some good rest and food made me cheeky."

He paused, brows furrowed and opening his mouth like he was going to ask something before seemingly changing his mind and turning back to the controls.

"Well, then. Close down the gravitic anomalizer, fire up the helmic regulator. And finally, the hand brake. Ready?" He asked Martha who started to look a bit hesitant.

"No."

"Off we go!"

Martha was quick to grab hold of the railing and complain about the bumpy ride as I held tight to the back of the jump seat. I finished off my toast by the time he landed the Tardis, clapping crumbs off my hands as Martha got up from the floor where she'd been thrown.

"Blimey. Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?"

"Yes, and I failed it."

She glanced at me as I mouthed the word "old" behind his back, earning a chuckle from her as he bounded off toward the doors and grabbed his coat.

"Now, make the most of it. I promised you one trip, and one trip only. Outside this door, brave new world."

Martha stopped before the door, eyeing it hesitantly. "Where are we?"

"Take a look. After you," he said, gesturing for her to go through the doors as we started to follow and he stopped me briefly. "Ash, you're… you're not the Asher I was just with, are you?"

I gave him a disbelieving look. "You thought I was a future me?"

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "It's hard to tell sometimes. I went to pick up Martha and you wandered off for a bite to eat apparently. I thought you went to get a coat."

"Except that was a future me who was jerked away somewhere else just in time for this me to show up?" I concluded; brows furrowed as I tried to wrap my head around it. "This won't be a common thing, will it?"

He shook his head as he led me out the doors. "Nah. Not happened until now, anyway. Sorry, though, for getting mixed up. Don't mean anything by it, I just—"

"No, I get it," I said, holding up my hands peacefully. "I'm sure it's complicated and there won't always be time to figure out which version of me showed up. No worries. Really."

He hummed as he watched Martha stare in wonder at the old English town we were standing in. "You've got it easy. You at least know if it's this me or a different one with my face."

I scoffed, giving him a look. "Easy? I'm still new at this and can't even tell where I'm at half the time. I might know your regeneration order but I could end up in your Tardis again with an older you and Martha and still think I'm with this you. It can happen both ways."

"Mm, suppose you're right. Still," he offered me a small smile. "Sorry again for the mix-up. Doesn't matter which you it is, I'm glad you're here."

It was a bit surprising to hear that from him and before I could comment, he was lurching forward to save Martha from the waste being dropped from an upper-story window.

"Careful," he cautioned her with an easy smile. "We're somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that."

"I've seen worse. I've worked the late night shift A+E. But are we safe? I mean, can we move around and stuff?"

"Of course, we can. Why do you ask?" He said and I decided to look around myself as he discussed some of the myths sci-fi movies had used to scare humans away from time travel.

As someone who was a little close to the subject I knew that, in a way, Martha was right. Certain changes in the past could very much affect the future but—as the Doctor had repeatedly told me—there were some changes that the universe compensated for. Can step on a butterfly but can't murder your grandfather. Simplified explanation but no point making it messy until… well, until she finds out what I know.

That would be the bigger issue, it seemed. It was the Doctor's companions and people who found out what I knew who would be the ones most against me doing or not doing something to change the future. I expected the Doctor to be the one most against it but… I glanced over at him as he smiled and pointed out the very normal actions people were doing around us. It's… nice that he's supportive of my choices. I feel bad for the meltdown I just had with his older self but… It's been a long few days. Even longer since I first showed up here.

I stared out at the people around us going about their day, growing somber. It already felt like I'd been here for ages and I hadn't really thought of back home. A hint of shame welled up in me for the seeming lack of care I had for the people I'd left behind and that my only concern lately had been my own actions regarding the lives of others here in this universe. Not that it wasn't also important but… I feel like I should care more but I just don't. That's… wrong, isn't it? I dragged a hand through my hair only to jump when the Doctor placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Asher? You okay?"

"Hm? Yeah, no. Sorry," I apologized with a grimace of a smile. "Spaced out a bit."

He eyed me for a moment before smiling and taking my hand with a squeeze. "Come on. I was just about to show Martha where we were going. I think we need some entertainment, don't you?"

I cracked a small smile back. "Yeah. Why not? I love a good play."

His grin widened and off we went, running down to the river toward the Globe Theatre to watch a true Shakespearean play.

The Doctor clapped along with the rest of the audience as the play was finished and the actors bowed on stage. His glance drifted toward Asher as she applauded with a small smile, a hint of relief flowing through him. He'd thought she'd be more upset about him mistaking her for her future self but she'd surprised him, as she always did. Still, he hadn't missed the solemn expression she'd had when she was looking out over the town when they arrived. He didn't have all the answers yet as to what she was dealing with but he knew that she was dealing with a lot; not just what she was dealing with here either.

Her older self had warned him as much too. Her home life wasn't terrible but it was difficult in a way that forced her to grow up too quickly and limit herself when she dealt with others or when she dealt with difficult decisions. She'd told him to keep an eye on her younger self, to pay attention because she was good at hiding things and pretending she was fine when she wasn't. She mentioned therapy too. I should look into someplace that would understand her… circumstances a bit. After I deal with Martha though. He glanced over at Martha too as she clapped and cheered, considering his original plan to only give her one trip. She gets on with Asher though, which is a bit surprising… Maybe keeping her around for a little longer might be good for her.

"That's amazing! Just amazing. It's worth putting up with the smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah?" Martha asked as he hummed.

"London never changes."

"Where's Shakespeare? I want to see Shakespeare. Author! Author!" She called out before hesitating. "Do people shout that? Do they shout Author?"

A man behind them started shouting too and the Doctor cracked a grin.

"Well, they do now."

Asher offered a small shrug when he glanced at her, still clapping away as Shakespeare himself bounced onto the stage to heed their calls.

"He's a bit different to his portraits," Martha noted.

"Might just be younger than when he had them done," Asher offered. "And depending on the artist they could have added their own flourishes depending on how they liked or disliked him. Or, well, how much money he offered. Like Napoleon who was painted to look taller than he was because people made fun of him." She paused, brows furrowed. "Unless I just heard that somewhere. Honestly don't know."

"He was average height," the Doctor offered. "Five foot six-ish in American measurements and that's if you're going by the French pouce. Their 'inches,' I mean. It was a cartoonist who painted him in a way that mocked his height and temper. Funny stuff. Wouldn't surprise me if he paid a little more for artists to portray him as taller."

"Huh," she mused as he smiled back up at the stage where Shakespeare was, happy himself to get to see the man in person.

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

"Ah, shut your big fat mouths!" Shakespeare called out good-naturedly towards the crowd who laughed as the Doctor's smile fell in disappointment. "Oh, well."

"You should never meet your heroes," Martha offered as the playwright went on.

"You've got excellent taste, I'll give you that. Oh, that's a wig," Shakespeare joked with an audience member. "I know what you're all saying. Love's Labour's Lost, that's a funny ending, isn't it? It just stops. Will the boys get the girls? Well, don't get your hose in a tangle, you'll find out soon. Yeah, yeah. All in good time. You don't rush a genius."

Then, he seemed to jerk a bit before continuing.

"When? Tomorrow night. The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it Love's Labour's Won."

The Doctor's expression hardened a bit and even Martha didn't join in with the cheering as they started to work their way out of the theatre.

"I'm not an expert, but I've never heard of Love's Labour's Won," Martha pointed out as the Doctor hummed.

"Exactly. The lost play. It doesn't exist, only in rumors. It's mentioned in lists of his plays but never ever turns up. And no one knows why."

"And I'm going to take a wild guess and say that we're going to find out?" Asher questioned, shooting him a knowing look.

"Well, I was just going to give Martha a quick little trip in the Tardis, but I suppose we could stay a bit longer."

Asher snorted. "Yeah, see, this is one of those moments where you're going to go walking into trouble."

"I don't always go looking for trouble, you know."

"Yeah, but when there is trouble, you sure do sprint right for it," she countered and he couldn't really argue with that as he managed to get directions to where Shakespeare might be staying and started to lead the way.

"So, did you like the play, Asher?" He asked, curious and hoping that he'd made the right choice in bringing her to one.

He knew she enjoyed seeing plays over movies and things.

"It was alright. The Old English is a bit tough to get used to but it always was when I was stuck reading the plays for school. I got the gist of it though and I love plays."

"You've been to more?" Martha asked curiously and she nodded with a grin.

"Yeah, my uncle was an old theater nut and once he grew older he would invite me out to see stuff. Small college productions usually but sometimes he'd get tickets to things like Les Misérable or War Horse. My favorites, of course. Saw them more than once and if it weren't for his health, probably would've seen a bunch more."

"You didn't go on your own?"

Asher wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Nah. Wish I could but they were hours away and I didn't drive. I've got weird anxiety about it. Don't like things being next to me so unless it's a damn small car it is just something I need to work my way through, and I never got around to it. That and money. It was a special occasion type of thing and I got distracted by college and other stuff at home. Stopped going. Still, it was nice to see a play again. I enjoyed it."

The Doctor draped an arm over her shoulder, feeling her stiffen before relaxing and thankfully not pulling away. "Then, I'll be sure to take you to some more plays. Hamlet, Lion King, the works."

She smiled at him. "I'll always watch Les Misérables and War Horse again too. Every play feels like it's brand new and the puppetry in War Horse is phenomenal."

It was nice to see her enthusiasm. He rarely caught sight of it with her younger self; yet another issue that needed to be dealt with by a licensed professional. Still, much like him, she could get carried away rattling on about her interests and he enjoyed being the one to listen for once. Then, of course, it had to be ruined.

"Do they know? Your family, I mean," Martha asked Asher, whose smile quickly faltered. "That you're traveling and stuff?"

The Doctor went to intervene but Asher spoke up before he could.

"Dunno. I don't know how the traveling thing works, really. Could be they just forgot about me when I showed up here in this universe or maybe I'm a missing person."

"This universe?" Martha questioned, still very new to things and not knowing much about Asher other than her traveling with the Doctor.

"Yeah, sorry. Was that not mentioned? I'm from a parallel universe and just sort of tripped into this one. Not sure how but now I get jerked around after this guy," she said, tossing a thumb over at the Doctor beside her as he tightened his hold on her shoulders a bit.

He was glad she was talking about it so easily but at the same time, that concern for her wellbeing was bubbling up again. She had lost everything in an instant and was just acting as though nothing was wrong. Or maybe, for her, everything was fine. Either way, it wasn't quite right and didn't settle well with him. If she was acting, then he needed to help her express what was really going on in her head and if she wasn't… well, it was a bit sad.

"Ah, here we go!" He interrupted boisterously to try and push aside the previous discussion as they stepped up to a tavern. "He should be in here. Come on!"

For now, he would keep up the distractions until they had time to talk.

"Hello! Excuse me, not interrupting, am I? Mister Shakespeare, isn't it?" He chimed upon entering the room where the playwright was talking with a few of his main actors.

"Oh, no," Shakespeare groaned, bringing a hand to his head. "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 paused as he spotted Martha peeking out from behind the Doctor. "Hey, nonny nonny. Sit right down here next to me," he encouraged her before waving at his actors. "You two get sewing on them costumes. Off you go."

"Come on, lads," the serving girl hummed, helping them out. "I think our William's found his new muse."

"Sweet lady," Shakespeare hummed, gesturing Martha to the seat beside his. "Such unusual clothes. So fitted."

The Doctor took a seat across from him though he didn't miss the curious look Shakespeare sent Asher, who was idly looking around the room. Probably should've given her a hat. Blue hair kind of stands out, the Doctor noted as Martha made a poor attempt at Old English.

"Uh, verily, forsooth, egads."

"No, no, don't do that. Don't," the Doctor shushed her before pulling out his psychic paper and offering it to Shakespeare. "I'm Sir Doctor of Tardis and these are my companions, Miss Martha Jones and Miss Asher Watkins."

"Interesting, that bit of paper," Shakespeare hummed. "It's blank."

The Doctor couldn't help but be impressed. "Oh, that's very clever. That proves it. Absolute genius."

"No, it says so right there. Sir Doctor, Martha Jones. It says so," Martha urged, and Shakespeare smirked.

"And I say it's blank. What about you, Miss Watkins?" He asked, drawing Asher's attention away from the papers on the table.

"Hm?"

Shakespeare gestured to the psychic paper and the Doctor handed it over with a smile, knowing what was about to happen. Asher raised a brow at his smug look and took it before frowning. She flipped it over and back again before letting out a huff.

"Yeah, I got nothing."

"What? How?" Martha complained as the Doctor winked at Asher's disgruntled expression.

"Psychic paper. Um, long story. Oh, I hate starting from scratch."

"Psychic? Never heard that before and words are my trade," Shakespeare huffed. "Who are you exactly? More's the point, who is your delicious blackamoor lady and vibrant-haired companion?"

Asher brought a hand up to pinch at some strands of hair, brows furrowed. She forgot it was blue, the Doctor mentally chuckled as Martha shot Shakespeare an offended look.

"What did you say?"

"Oops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A Queen of Afric?" He offered as she scoffed.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this."

"Different time," Asher offered with a shrug. "They're words of endearment."

The Doctor hummed in agreement. "It's political correctness gone mad. Um, Martha's from a far-off land... Freedonia."

"Excuse me! Hold hard a moment," someone called from the doorway, drawing their attention to the man who'd just stepped in. "This is abominable behavior. A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script, Mister Shakespeare. As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed."

"Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it round," Shakespeare offered with a roll of his eyes.

This wasn't the first time the Master of Revels had butted his nose in when there was a new play finished.

"I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine. The script, now!"

"I can't."

"Then tomorrow's performance is canceled," the man snipped.

"It's all go around here, isn't it?" Martha mused.

"I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the last thing I do, Love's Labour's Won will never be played."

He left quickly down the stairs and Shakespeare offered an awkward smile.

"Apologies for Lynley. I'm sure I'll be able to work something out in the morning."

Dolly stepped in with drinks then, passing them around though the Doctor noticed Asher wasn't really paying attention. He knew she was picky about her alcohol but he recognized the uneasiness in her expression. She was worried about something. Something potentially important.

"Well then, mystery solved. That's Love's Labour's Won over and done with. Thought it might be something more, you know, more mysterious," Martha huffed as the Doctor opened his mouth to question Asher, only for screams to come from outside.

The group was up and on their feet, running quickly toward the commotion to find Lynley spewing up water before collapsing as the Doctor and Martha tried to help him. Remembering Asher's previous concern, the Doctor whipped around in search of her, but she hadn't gone with them. Please don't be doing something risky, he mentally pleaded and he begrudgingly turned away to join Martha.

I stood just out of sight of where the maid was drowning Lyney's puppet, mentally debating what the hell I was doing because this was very much a stupid thing to do. If I stop her, I'm pinning a huge target on my back and last I checked, I'm very much a human who can and will die if those witches touch me. Oh, this is stupid. This is the biggest stupid I've ever considered. I grit my teeth, peeking out slightly as she pulled the puppet out of the water. I can't. I can't risk stepping in now. I have to wait until she leaves the puppet and hope I can pull it out of the water fast enough that he won't already be dead. Then, my eyes widened as she jabbed the puppet and ripped the head off.

"Wha—" I covered my own mouth hastily and pressed my back up against the wall behind the door to Shakespeare's room.

Shit, shit, shit. What the hell! I don't remember that! I thought she just drowned the puppet! Did something change or did I just remember wrong? Fuck. I heard her come up to the doorway and held my breath, hoping that by having tucked myself behind the door she wouldn't know I was there. Thankfully, she didn't and she left down the stairs as I allowed myself to breathe and risked leaving my hiding place. I went over to the water barrels and knelt down to pick up the puppet, heart sinking as its head lolled to the side; mostly detached from the rest of it. There was no saving this. I had either forgotten how this went or the universe had changed to mock my attempts to save Lynley.

I know there were consequences. I know saving him could have ruined everything for the witches but I thought… I thought if I just saved him from dying—from actually dying—then it might be okay. He won't have recovered enough to stop the play I don't think, might even be scared to, but… it was a stupid thought. I shouldn't have bothered. I rubbed at my face in frustration, before letting out a heavy sigh and begrudgingly getting rid of the puppet after I'd broken whatever spell was used by removing the snippet of Lynley's hair.

I felt stupid for trying to help him, feeling as though the idea was ridiculous now that I thought about it more. Saving him was such a big risk I shouldn't have even considered it but there had been no time to think about it. I hadn't even remembered his death until he walked in the door and I'd grown cocky after what I managed to do in previous situations. I shouldn't be changing anything. Everything has to go the way it should or things can get really bad and I'm here risking it all and for what? For a perverted man who was more than willing to prey on young women? Would I step in to save someone else? A Dalek? Davros? The Master? A sudden wave of shame rushed over me though, cooling my frustration a bit. No… No, who am I to even decide who is and isn't worthy of their own death? This isn't about them or me. It's about the timeline and how it should go… right?

I stood at the top of the stairs, confused and frustrated with my mind running in circles, trying to figure out what I could and should do with what I knew as well as what was expected of me. The Doctor, he… he just wants me to make my own choices, my own decisions as to what's right and wrong but… how? How do I know what's right and wrong when there's "what I know" and what's happening right in front of me? Sure, sometimes I'll forget and react instinctually but what about when I know exactly what's going to happen and have to actually choose? What then? I hope my moral compass is good enough for everyone else? That whatever decision I make lets them be happy? Or make choices that allow me to be happy? How am I supposed to know what to do?

There were footsteps heading this way now and Shakespeare was the first to see me, brows furrowing slightly and he opened his mouth before I plastered on an awkward smile.

"Sorry. I'm just… not good with death, I guess," I offered poorly and he gave me a slight nod as he reached me and gave me a pat on my shoulder before slipping back into his room.

Martha was quick to follow but the Doctor paused beside me, looking worried.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," I lied, stepping into the room. "Sorry."

He didn't press the issue and I hoped he would leave it as Dolly came up to the door and said she'd gotten us a room. Shakespeare gave her a brief nod of thanks before facing us solemnly.

"Poor Lynley. So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?"

Martha offered a small smile. "Where a woman can do what she likes."

"Such as turn her hair vibrant colors?" Shakespeare teased me and I managed a small half-hearted smile.

"If they want."

"And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have eyes so old?"

The Doctor glanced at him, unbothered by the observation. "I do a lot of reading."

"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do. And you? You look at him like you're surprised he exists. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me," he pointed out, looking at Martha who was quick to dismiss herself.

"I think we should say goodnight."

I considered stepping out with her but before I could move, Shakespeare spoke again.

"But he's hardly a puzzle to you, is he, Miss Watkins?"

"Asher… is fine," I corrected him, earning a nod as his gaze drifted to the Doctor.

"You two look at each other like long-lost friends, like you both know so much but can never say. Curious though, how it seems the Doctor's worry for you is being ignored because you're so conflicted with yourself," he noted, gesturing to the Doctor. "You'd do well to calm his concerns by sharing your troubles, I think. Ease your burden, Asher, or you might just go mad."

The thought of the man we'd soon meet in Bedlam came to mind, sending a chill down my spine as I turned toward the door and muttered a soft "goodnight" behind my back, not wanting to be analyzed any longer by the genius playwright. I stepped into our shared room, taking one look at the small bed, and suddenly not feeling tired at all. Martha lit a candle and started looking around as the floor creaked to announce the Doctor's arrival. I simply sat down in a nearby chair and stuffed my hands into my hoodie to dig up one of the granola bars I'd packed as I bounced my knee anxiously.

"It's not exactly five stars is it?" Martha joked, trying to ease up the slight tension in the room from what Shakespeare had said and from the death we'd just witnessed.

"Oh, it'll do. I've seen worse," the Doctor shrugged off.

"I haven't even got a toothbrush."

"Oh, um…" He dug through his pockets before offering her one. "Contains Venusian spearmint."

She accepted the offering with an awkward smile before gesturing to the bed. "So, who's going where? I mean, there's only one bed."

"We'll manage. Come on," the Doctor said, unbuttoning his button-up before hopping onto it. "Asher?"

I paused in unwrapping my granola bar and gave the bed a glance. "Not tired."

"You sure?"

I shrugged, taking a bite of the bar as Martha tried to keep up the conversation.

"So, magic and stuff. That's a surprise. It's all a little bit Harry Potter."

"Wait till you read book seven. Oh, I cried."

"But is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic, and all that, it's real?" Martha pressed, uncertain.

"Course it isn't."

"Well, how am I supposed to know? I've only just started believing in time travel. Give me a break," she complained, giving me a look. "What about you? Did you think it was real?"

I shrugged. "Not everything. This is like the truth behind the myth sort of thing, isn't it? Looks like magic so humans think it is, but it's not, right?"

The Doctor nodded. "Exactly. Are you going to stand there all night, Martha?"

Martha hesitated, giving me a look before sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. "Budge up a bit, then."

"And you sure you're not gonna take a kip, Asher?" The Doctor pressed. "I could switch out with you. I know how you are about your sleep."

"I'm fine," I offered, knowing I wouldn't get much sleep after what happened.

He eyed me a moment longer before giving in but his brows furrowed in thought. "There's such a thing as psychic energy, but a human couldn't channel it like that. Not without a generator the size of Taunton and I think we'd have spotted that. No." He flopped on his side to face Martha, though she hadn't moved. "There's something I'm missing, Martha. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it. Rose'd know. A friend of mine, Rose. Right now, she'd say exactly the right thing."

"You didn't even ask Asher," she pointed out with a huff, laying down further on the bed as the Doctor moved to sit up a bit more.

"Asher's on a different set of rules than us. It's a bit complicated so never mind. I'm taking you back home tomorrow anyway."

"Great," she huffed, rolling over and blowing out the candle.

It surprisingly didn't take long for her to fall asleep and apparently, the silence was too much for the Doctor to take.

"You sure you don't want to switch?" He asked quietly and I shook my head.

"No. It's fine. I probably won't sleep anyway."

He sat up and eyed me for a moment. "Because you tried to do something, right? To change something?"

My gaze snapped to his before falling to the floor as I pocketed my trash. " 'Tried' being the keyword there," I muttered. "Don't know why I bothered."

He frowned lightly in the dark. "Why do you say that? What did you try to do?"

"It doesn't matter. It didn't work and it was stupid to even try."

"It does matter if you're upset about it."

"I'm not—" I grit my teeth, reining in my temper that flared at him calling me out. "It was a stupid idea, okay? I didn't think it through and it's probably better that I didn't succeed."

"Is this about Lynley?" He asked, hitting the nail on the head. "Did you try to save him?"

"Like I said, it doesn't matter," I bit out, annoyed now but not with him.

No, I was annoyed with myself. I was making this a bigger deal than it was and taking it out on the Doctor because he was asking questions.

"Ash, his death isn't your fault."

"I know!" I snapped, sucking in a sharp breath and holding it when Martha shifted in her sleep before continuing softly. "I know. You've told me that a million times already and I know it's not my fault even if I tried to stop it. I'm just… I'm not used to this, okay? I don't know what I'm doing and then I go and make stupid decisions like that because I had no time to think about it. Now, he's dead, still, and all I can think about is how everything could've gone wrong if I saved him. How he's dead because I forgot something o-or the universe shifted just to laugh at me. How stupid it was to even think I should save him because this whole stupid timeline could've been fucked up majorly just by him being alive, but then he wasn't a great person. Oh, but who am I to judge someone and figure out whether or not they should die? I'm not some God or something. I just…" I buried my face in my hands, shaking with frustration. "I'm just human. What am I supposed to do?"

There was a creak of the floorboards as he approached, kneeling in front of me and placing a hand on my knee.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"What for?" I grumbled behind my hands. "It's not your fault, just me being stupid."

"No, you're not being stupid and I'm apologizing because I didn't realize what you were going through. I didn't… I didn't think you were so early."

I scoffed lightly, dropping my hands with a frown. "So an older me could have figured it out, huh?"

"That's not what I said," he argued lightly. "I just meant that you hide things far more when you're younger. It's harder for me to see when you're struggling and harder for me to help."

I sagged a bit, muttering under my breath. "You've been helping."

"Not enough if you're still struggling on your own because you feel you can't talk to me," he sighed. "No one's asking you to play God, Ash. Do I appreciate it when you manage to come up with some plan that saves someone? Of course, I do, but not when it risks your health, mental or otherwise. Now, what happened to Lynley is sad, any death is. You tried to save him and that's fine."

I went to argue, but he held up a finger to stop me.

"It is fine because trying to save someone is never a mistake. If something more had happened because of it, then we would have dealt with that together, but the action of trying to help is never a bad one. And sometimes there are moments where you might have to stand back and allow something to happen, and that's okay too. Whether it's because you couldn't think of a solution in time or because it was too big of a risk to take, that's okay. At the end of the day, you are doing your best, Ash, and that's what matters. Don't try to solve everything on your own, okay?"

It was similar to what the other Doctors had said but I still couldn't quite believe that he cared this much about how I was handling things. This was the Tenth Doctor not long after Rose was trapped in another universe. I half expected him to hate me or hold a grudge. Hell, his future selves alluded to the fact that he does—at some point—get upset with me about what I know and the actions I take. I assumed it would be because of Rose but here he was still checking up on me and trying to help me figure things out. I felt shame well up in me all over again for causing him trouble and getting all worked up about things. He seemed to notice too and offered me a small smile and patted my shoulder.

"Now, don't bother worrying about it anymore, okay? You want to get some sleep? I don't need as much as you, so I don't mind switching out."

I shook my head though as he stood and got up myself. "No. I don't think I'll sleep much right now anyway. I'll probably just go get some water. I'm a little amped up still so sleep's off the table."

He nodded, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "Whatever you need. Don't take too long. You can have the bed once you're back and at least try to sleep."

I gave in and nodded in return before stepping out and hoping to find Dolly to ask her about where I might get some clean water. She wasn't downstairs and not trusting anything nearby to be drinking water, I went searching for her upstairs and spotted her at the door to Shakespeare's room.

"Ah, Dolly?" I called out, drawing her attention as I caught up with her at the door. "Is there any chance I could…"

I paused, catching sight of someone in the room other than Shakespeare and feeling my heart skip a beat. Oh, no. Oh, no, no. I forgot. I completely forgot.

"Oh, aye. I'm not the first, then," Dolly huffed from behind me before the witch turned around and stormed forward, snatching Dolly's broom.

"I'll take that to aid my flight and you shall speak no more this night."

She lunged for Dolly but I pushed the woman back instinctively and incidentally felt a sharp jab of pain in my shoulder, making me cry out as Dolly screamed. The witch rushed for the window as Shakespeare was startled from his rest and the Doctor and Martha hurried in.

"What? What was that?" Shakespeare questioned as I grimaced in pain and held my shoulder while cursing under my breath.

"Mother fucking, son of a—" I leaned against the wall as the Doctor checked on Dolly, who'd collapsed on the floor in shock.

She was fine—surprisingly enough—just startled, and when his gaze turned to me, I shook my head, telling him to just leave me for the moment. He listened and instead turned toward Martha when she called out to him.

"What did you see?"

"A witch," she breathed as I scoffed.

"More like a bitch if you ask me," I spat, earning a surprised look from Shakespeare as the Doctor sighed and headed over.

"Language," he lightly chided me and I glared at him.

"I'll give you language when you get jabbed by a stupid bitch trying to kill you."

He sighed and gestured for me to stop grabbing at my shoulder so he could see. I did so reluctantly, hissing in pain when he lightly checked it and my arm. "What did she do?"

"Hell if I know," I bit out.

"Well, I take it that if you were injured, you were trying to change something. You didn't expect this?"

"I forget things!" I argued, swatting at his hand when he pressed a bit too hard into my shoulder. "Couldn't save fucken Lynley while trying but apparently I can save Dolly when I didn't even remember what was going to happen."

His brows furrowed as he let me go to return to holding my shoulder and trying to keep my left arm as still as possible. "And this didn't happen?"

"No. I just said it, didn't I? She'd be dead. Died of fright or whatever you would've said. Don't know why it's different for me. Probably just got lucky she missed my heart while aiming for Dolly."

He shook his head, obviously still confused, and waved me toward a chair. "Just sit down for now. I'll see if I can get you something to drink—"

"Oh, ho. No need for that," I huffed, cringing as I released my shoulder and dug through my hoodie before waving a bottle of alcohol I'd shoved in there earlier on a whim. "Don't like the other stuff but this is fine. Glad I packed it now."

He sighed with a roll of his eyes but opened it for me and pulled out his sonic. "Martha, could you make sure Dolly gets some rest and Will? Could you bring up some water as well for Asher?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Martha offered, giving us both a look but helping Dolly to her feet and gently leading her back downstairs as Shakespeare hurried off to help too.

The Doctor started to scan my shoulder with his sonic and eyed me as I grit my teeth and clenched and unclenched my other hand around the end of my hoodie. "What can you tell me? Anything about what should have happened, what might, and only what you can say."

Since it helped keep me distracted from the pain, I tried to think through what I could say.

"That bit—"

The Doctor shot me a look.

"Asshole," I corrected, earning a roll of his eyes as I went on. "She can do this thing where she pokes you in the chest and stops your heart."

His eyes widened. "And you—"

"Hey, I already said I forgot, okay?" I complained, frowning at him. "I forgot it would've happened to Dolly. I just went to get some water and when the witch lunged I pushed her behind me. Didn't exactly think about it until she jabbed me in the shoulder."

"And you don't know what it is they do?"

I shook my head, wincing as a rivet of pain went through my shoulder and arm, tightening my grip on it slightly. "No. I could take a guess but I don't know much. I just assumed it was some sort of electrical output or something they could do. Mess with the brain's signal to the heart and force a heart attack," I offered as he looked at the sonic's readings with a hum.

"Actually, you're not far off."

I shot him a look. "You're joking. I literally made that shit up."

He waved the sonic. "It's what happened to your shoulder though. Nerves are going haywire. Look." He flicked my hand, making me jump. "Did you feel that?"

I went to call him some colorful names for flicking the arm that was injured but stopped. "Hold on. No, I didn't. The fuck did she do?"

"Like I said, she messed with your nervous system. You're probably numb from your shoulder down and where she poked you just short-circuited your nerves. They're misfiring sending signals to the brain saying that you're injured and in pain when actually, you're perfectly fine."

"Cool, great, so how do we fix it?" I said in annoyance. "I've had a pinched nerve before and it was shit. Don't like having it again now."

He shrugged. "Just have to wait. It should wear off."

"You're joking."

"Ah! Here." He dug through his pockets again and grinned as he pulled out a sling, waving it in front of me. "You can wear this."

I sighed but let him help me put it on, glad that there was at least a little bit of pain eased with it on, even if I did hate that it made me more helpless than before. The other two returned then and I gratefully accepted the water from Shakespeare, though I was more eager to drink the alcohol I'd brought for now.

"You are alright then, Asher?" Shakespeare asked in concern.

"Still hurting but nothing to be done," I offered him. "Thanks, though, for asking."

"Of course, and I appreciate what you did for sweet Dolly Bailey. She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place when we all ran like rats. But what could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit."

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light," the Doctor mused.

"I might use that."

"You can't. It's someone else's."

He frowned but didn't argue as Martha spoke up.

"But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly nearly died of fright, and they were both connected to you."

"You're accusing me?" Shakespeare questioned.

"No, but I saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches."

"Hasn't yet," I muttered as the Doctor sighed when Shakespeare questioned her before the playwright realized something.

"Peter Streete spoke of witches."

"Who's Peter Streete?" Martha asked.

"Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe."

"The architect. Hold on. The architect! The architect! The Globe! Come on!" The Doctor practically cheered, grabbing my free arm and making me groan.

"Could you not pull me when I'm obviously—"

Then, between one step and the next, his grip was gone and the tavern vanished, leaving me once again who knows where, annoyed and in pain.

"I swear to whatever God put me in this hell hole, I will scream the next time I'm thrown somewhere mid-adventure!"