I jolted awake, pushing myself up off the mattress and bringing a hand up to my neck, feeling bandages. I was still a bit dazed, closing my eyes and allowing myself a moment to calm my pounding heart. Upon opening them, I resisted the urge to sigh. I was back in the hospital. The room was white and the medical equipment nearby was chirping steadily with my pulse. My mind was still a bit fogged, providing small reminders of what happened recently. Damn that old woman… alien… thing. I'm definitely going to take it easy this time around, whether I died or not.
"I want beaches, quiet, and some piña coladas," I muttered, reaching over and turning off the heart monitor. "I want to put on a swimsuit and enjoy myself. I want to surf and take a long vacation without any alien invasions or psychotic, shape-shifting, old people."
I took out my IV carefully and bandaged the crook of my arm appropriately before picking up my tattered coat off a chair nearby. I sighed as I ran a hand over the gaping hole that had been blasted into it. It lasted so long too. I draped it over my arm and stepped out of the room only to freeze. Unlike most hospitals, the corridors didn't match the white room I'd just stepped out of. They were lined with metal and familiar coral-like structures tinged with a subtle orange glow. I actually had to back up and peer into the room I'd just been in to double-check that I hadn't imagined the hospital room. Nope. Didn't imagine it, though I suppose waking up in my clothes and not a hospital gown still should've proved that.
I stood there confused and mildly annoyed before shrugging and giving up, continuing to walk in search of an exit to the strange place I was in. More halls greeted me with an occasional door that I would open to see if it was a way out. So far, no luck. I'd found a library, a garden, and a pantry, among other strange things like a bounce house and an archery shooting range. I just want out. Why is that so hard? A light flickered out in the distance and I stiffened, knowing more than my fair share of horror movies and watching that darkened hall for a second.
"Nope," I muttered, turning away and walking in the other direction.
As I walked, more lights would flicker out and I avoided them before I began to wonder if I was being led somewhere. Then, finally, I passed through a doorway and into a large center room. Coral pillars were jutting out and large cables dangled from the ceiling, leading to a glowing green cylinder in the center of the room surrounded by a set of complex controls. It's that ship again. It's all a bit steampunk, isn't it? I mused, stepping down the few steps in front of me and approaching the middle of the room only to jump when the Doctor bounced around the controls and nearly ran into me.
"Jesus Christ!" I cursed, taking a swift step back and shooting him an annoyed look. "Give a girl a warning before you go jumping out of places, would ya?"
"You're awake!" He beamed, before looking me over cautiously. "Are you feeling okay? No aches or pains? Nausea? Headache? How's your neck?"
I swatted at his hand that had reached for my bandaged neck. "I'm fine, thanks. Mind explaining where the hell I am?"
He only seemed to brighten, holding out his arms proudly. "It's my ship! She's called the Tardis! Time and Relative Dimension in Space!"
I blinked slowly making him start to wilt as he realized I wasn't going to give him an equally excited response. "Yeah, okay. I've been here before, remember? What I meant to say was, why the hell am I here? The hospital would have been fine, you know." I paused, thinking. "Unless I died. Did I die? It all gets a bit fuzzy between the blood loss and suffocation."
"What are you?" He asked then, the question echoing in my mind through a variety of voices.
I was quick to glance away from him and towards the double doors not far behind him. My exit. And escape from the haunting questions I know he'll ask.
"Human… or, well, human with some genetic mutation or something according to those Judoon. That the way out?"
"Yes, all right, but who are you? Genetic mutation meaning what, exactly?"
I scoffed, stepping around him to get to the doors. "Really? I thought you, of all people, would've figured it out by now."
He grabbed me by the elbow, pulling me to a stop—brown eyes serious. "Marley. I can't help you unless you explain."
"You couldn't help me even if I did explain," I argued.
"You don't know that."
"Yeah, I do, actually." I jerked my arm free from his grip, turning away once more and making a beeline for the doors. "You're not the only one who's offered to help just to satisfy their curiosity."
"You can't."
"Yeah, well, I'm going to," I argued, mildly surprised and a bit hurt at his words as I reached the double doors and went to open them.
"No, I mean you really can't!" He called out, rushing over and grabbing my arm just in the nick of time.
I stared out at the vast emptiness spread out before me—a swirling mix of colors, dust, and stars—before the Doctor tugged me back into his chest. Safe.
"Are you all right?" He asked, breath ghosting over my ear as I realized my hands were shaking.
"Y-Yeah… Yeah, no. I… Did I almost fall out into space?" I asked, tipping my head towards him as he reached around me and closed the doors.
"Just a bit."
"We're in space," I repeated, still a bit dazed. "I don't know why I'm surprised by that. You're an alien. You've said so and I've been in this box before. I've seen it move. You called it a ship and everything."
He cracked a smile at my ramble, passing me to return to lean on the console behind me. "I did."
I turned to face him, unable to help the grin that stretched over my face as I pointed behind me to the doors. "That was space!"
He chuckled as I bounced on my feet a little.
"Oh, it's been a long time since I've experienced something like that," I mused, giving him a glance. "And you get to see it all the time."
"Yup."
"Must get boring then."
I seemed to have surprised him by saying that, judging by his expression.
"No. Not boring. Not really."
I shook my head, understanding the feeling myself. "It's like eating the same five-star meal every evening. Tastes amazing the first few times, then it starts to become lackluster until… until it's like eating ash."
"How old are you?" He asked then, expression solemn and empathetic.
I didn't want to answer. Not really.
"Older than I'd like," I muttered, looking away and spotting a seat nearby, heading over to settle down—smoothing my poor coat over my legs.
"What happened?" He asked softly, leaving me to shrug.
"Your guess is as good as mine. I barely remember how this all started." I dug into my coat pocket and pulled out a tattered book. "According to this, I left a work shift then appeared in the middle of nowhere in a forest."
He held out a hand for the book and I hesitated before handing it over.
"What is it?" He asked, flipping carefully through the battered pages. "Looks like a novel."
"It's my memoirs."
His eyes snapped up from the pages, pupils wide. "What? But this…" He hastily flipped to a page. "This says… 1560, Japan. You fought in the Battle of Okehazama? That's impossible!"
"Welcome to my life," I said under my breath.
"And this! 1775, Virginia. You were at the battle of Lexington and Concord!"
"Ah, I don't think I actually fought in that one. It's been a while but I believe I was with someone at the time," I mused, trying to remember who it was I'd been with.
"You were with Thomas Jefferson," he informed me, reading from the memoirs. "You… You don't remember that? How could you not remember being with Thomas Jefferson?"
"It was hundreds of years ago. My memoirs are all that's left of those memories. That one there is just a brief summary of what I remember. There are other more detailed books at a storage place I own. I can't remember everything, you know. I'm only human… Well, human and then some." I shrugged off as he handed it back to me.
"But how did you do all that? No human could possibly…" He paused, eyeing me. "Could I just—"
I stiffened, hesitant as to what he wanted as he pulled out his pen-like device from before, though it looked different now.
"Didn't you break that?"
"Got a new one. Do you mind if I—It won't hurt or anything. It's just a scan, like what the Judoon did."
"I guess, as long as it doesn't do anything weird."
"Just makes a noise. See?" He waved the pen over me before plugging it into a port on the console and pulling over a monitor.
Curious myself as to what more he might be able to find, I got up and headed over as well. On the screen though, was a language I didn't understand. A set of swirling circular designs that made the Doctor frown.
"Human," he grumbled, sounding disappointed as he tapped a few more buttons and it changed to a set of graphs and tables. "Definitely a genetic mutation, but it's strange."
"Strange how?" I asked as he smacked the side of the monitor a couple of times.
"It keeps flickering. Like it's spiking randomly. There are these genes that regulate your rate of healing and yours are mutated somehow. It doesn't make sense though." He whipped around to me suddenly. "If you get hurt, what happens?"
I took a small step back, hoping he wasn't about to test this in a way that others already had. "I bleed like anyone else."
"But it doesn't repair faster than usual?"
"I guess? A little bit, I think."
"Does it reopen easily afterward? While it's trying to heal?"
"What? No."
He turned back to the screen, lips pulled down in frustration and muttering under his breath as I gave the doors a glance.
I should leave. I don't like where this is going. As much as I believe the Doctor's a good man, I… I've met so-called "good men" before. I rubbed at my arm uneasily, remembering haunting laughter and the feeling of hand-shaped bruises. I can't just walk out though. We're in space. Where would I go?
"You, uh… wouldn't mind dropping me back on Earth, would you?" I asked, glancing at him as he pulled himself away from the monitor.
"Oh. Oh, sure," he replied, flicking a switch and pressing a few things that made the ship hum and rumble lightly. "I mean, I've got to drop back anyway. Check up on Martha, but maybe… If you'd want to…" He glanced over at me hopefully. "Would you like to stay?"
"Stay?" I questioned, earning a nod.
"Well, you seem to travel a lot according to your book—"
"Memoirs," I corrected, feeling as though calling it just a book was a little insulting, with all the work I put into it.
"—and I've got a ship. I could take you anywhere, anywhen. Let you see things you've never seen before. New planets, new people, you name it."
The choice was tempting, dangerously so. As someone who couldn't die, I lived for new things to see, to do, to experience. The problem was, I've learned not to trust people. I was open to a point and that point stopped when someone found out I couldn't die. The Doctor reached that point and then some. He'd seen me die. He'd questioned me verbally and took a scan, and I couldn't trust him not to go further. Nothing good ever came from indulging someone's curiosities about me. I've learned far too many times what happens when I trust someone to be kind.
"I can't," I muttered, unable to look at him and his disappointed expression.
"Can I ask why?" He asked, voice soft. "I won't push you into it if you don't want, but if it's something I can fix, then—"
"It's not," I cut him off. "You can't fix this."
"I can try."
And that's what I'm worried about. I sighed softly. "I can't go with you. I'd… like to, but I can't for… personal reasons."
"You mean, you can't because you're immortal."
I clenched my eyes shut and ran a hand over my face. He's finally said it.
"Marley, I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to," he said, seeming to understand my hesitation.
"I can't trust that," I murmured. "I don't know you and even if I did, I can't trust that you won't."
"Will you take the chance to know me?" He asked, looking a bit downtrodden about my sudden defensiveness. "Just one trip. Two tops."
Again, I hesitated. The low-hanging fruit was now even more tantalizing. Only a couple of trips? That's… Oh, that's mean. That's evil. Just enough to get me wanting more. But… But if he's like the others… I reached a hand up and ran my fingers over the bandages on my neck. But it was impossible for me to refuse.
"Two trips?"
A large grin began to stretch across his lips. He'd won this battle.
"Yup. I'm thinking one forward, one back. Past and future."
I turned, eyes narrowed. "I've been through the past."
"Well, not all of it. I'm sure I can land us somewhere you haven't been," he teased as I finally turned to face him fully, hopping onto the railings behind me.
"One condition."
He raised a brow as I lifted a finger.
"After two trips, you respect my decision to continue traveling with you or not."
He hummed, bringing a hand up to his chin before holding up a finger himself. "Counter condition. If you choose not to stay, I can drop by on occasion and try to convince you again."
I shot him a look. "You're really that desperate for company? Aren't you picking up Martha?"
"Well, yeah, but you're interesting." He shrugged.
"Because I'm immortal."
"No… Well, not entirely."
I pointed a stern finger at him. "No tests."
"What?"
"You heard me." I hopped off the rail and stepped towards him. "No tests. No experiments, no scans, no tricks to see my reactions. Nothing. Not a thing, unless I give you permission." My finger prodded his chest. "I know how you curious types are."
He sighed softly, but lowered his head and grabbed my hand lightly to pull it away from where it was poking into his shirt. "Yes, all right. No tests. Anything else, Your Majesty?"
"One more." I tugged my hand from his and cracked a small smile. "I need a name."
He blinked, confused. "What? But I thought—"
I rolled my eyes, bounding away from him with a small skip in my step. "I'm millennia old. I don't remember my original name. Marley is just the one I was using at the moment. Before that, it was Owen, Lex, Taylor, Carson, and so on. So, since I doubt you want to keep relearning my name, you get to make one up."
"Me?"
"Yup."
"But it's your name!"
I twirled on my feet lightly, spinning around behind the console before flopping in the jump seat. "Sure, but if you're going to be hunting me down all the time, then you're going to be the one to remember it. I forget rather easily, you see. So, a name. Just for when I'm with you. We can try some out if you want."
"No. No, just give me a second."
I shrugged, waiting as he thought before speaking up. "What sort of name is 'The Doctor' anyway? Are you going to call me something weird like 'The Immortal'? 'The Never Dead'? 'The Living Zombi—'"
"We choose our names, okay?" He cut me off, giving me a mildly frustrated look at my rambling as I just smiled. "It was a promise I made when I came of age."
"Cute," I chirped. "...'The Undying'?"
He groaned as I chuckled, flopping back onto the seat and closing my eyes. Then, he snapped his fingers.
"I've got it. Fallongalaktikosdorhnii."
I pushed myself up onto my elbows, brow raised. "What?"
"Fallongalaktikosdorhnii," he repeated, grinning all the way. "Fallon for short."
There was a beat of silence.
"Are you really that terrible at making up names?"
"Hey! I'll have you know, names like that are very common on my planet."
"Really? Yet, your name is The Doctor?"
"My title is the Doctor. My name is… well it's something only I know now."
"Bit sad, that," I pointed out. "Though it's better than me forgetting my name. When do I get a title?"
He shrugged. "Whenever you want. As I said, titles in my culture are very important. It's a promise you make to yourself. The Doctor is my promise to never be cruel, never be cowardly…" He went quiet, solemn for a moment before I spoke.
"Then, how about the Fallen One?" I offered. "Goes with Fallon, I think, and… well, it'll remind me to be more like an angel than a devil." I've had enough of both of those for a lifetime.
He looked at me, a little surprised and a little sad, before cracking a small smile. "Sounds good."
"And you can call me Fallon normally," I teased a bit. "The Fallen One is a bit of a mouthful. Though not as much as that long name you spat out. What's up with that?"
He chuckled, scratching at his cheek awkwardly. "Well, typically it's a sort of first name, what house you're from, and a suffix of your parents' choosing—"
"Parents? Hold on. I'm pretty sure I am older than you, you know," I huffed lightly.
"But Fallon seemed like a good name," he continued. "And since you live in the Milky Way, I used a bit of that. Galaktikos kýklos is the Latin translation."
"Okay, but what about that last part?"
He grew a bit sheepish then. "Um, well, I know you said not to call you immortal and all…"
"Doctor…" I grumbled, suspicious as he held up his hands with a grin.
"I couldn't help it! There's a jellyfish that's biologically immortal called Turritopsis dohrnii."
I groaned. "Oh, you just had to slip it in there didn't you? This is the last time I let someone else choose my name for me."
Still, he laughed and even I managed a bit of a chuckle before he mentioned picking up Martha and sent the ship flying off… or falling off. I couldn't quite tell the difference.
"Why is it so turbulent!" I complained, clinging to the jump seat as he bounded around the center console.
"Well, we're traveling through time and space through a vortex! Bound to get a bit bumpy!"
"And why is it I feel like that's an excuse for your terrible driving!" I hollered back.
"Hey! I'm a great driver!"
Something sparked as he landed the ship and turned towards me proudly.
"See? Perfect landing."
I blinked at him with a blank expression before leaning slightly to the right and pointing behind him. "Your console is on fire."
He turned and hastily grabbed a fire extinguisher to put out the fire as I laughed and stood, heading over and patting his back.
"There there. I'm sure you'll figure it out one day."
He pouted but was quick to bounce back as I headed for the doors with him.
"Will you teach me to fly it?" I asked, curious and he smirked.
"It's a very complicated machine. Sure, you could probably figure some of it out, but you'd have to stay to learn, wouldn't you?"
I gave him a dirty look at that. "Cheeky Time Lord."
He grinned and opened the doors to let me out. The street was dark and sounds of a party were happening nearby along with someone shouting. We both looked over and spotted Martha with—who could only be—her family. Said family was bickering about a blonde who was walking away from the group, but the Doctor only had eyes for his new companion.
Said woman spotted us soon enough and the Doctor turned to head back into his ship as I followed after him.
"You're a big tease, you know that? Big, mysterious alien guy saving a hospital full of people then popping back up and poking his head out to get an innocent, curious human following him into his ship," I commented, stomach grumbling. "You have a kitchen here?"
He cracked a small smile and gestured to the doors leading further into the ship. "Two lefts, a right, past the dump bins and another left. She'll have anything you want by the time you get there."
I raised a brow as I headed for the doors. "She?"
He patted the console fondly. "My ship. Didn't I mention? She's sentient."
I gaped at him for a second before closing my mouth and giving him a pointed look. "You are so explaining more later."
He just chuckled and went to fiddle with the controls in wait for Martha Jones to join us. If he keeps teasing me like this… I might not be able to leave…
I stepped out not long after grabbing a bite, carrying some fish n' chips as I stepped back into the console room. The ship had taken off twice while I was choosing my meal, but we'd settled again and I found Martha gaping at the inside of the ship.
"How does it do that? It's wood. It's like a box with that room just rammed in. It's bigger on the inside."
The Doctor feigned ignorance as he closed the doors. "Is it? I hadn't noticed. Right then, let's get going."
"But is there a crew, like a navigator and stuff? Where is everyone?"
"Just me. Well, and Fallon."
"Who?"
I poked my head around the corner, waving. "Hey."
She blinked in surprise. "Marley?"
"Fallon," I corrected. "For now, anyway."
"What—"
"I'll explain later." I waved her off, plopping in the jump seat and waving a chip at the Doctor. "These chips are great, by the way. Does the ship make them, or like, steal them from another universe or something?"
"Why would she take them from another universe?" The Doctor complained and I went to respond before he waved his hand. "No, never mind. I don't want to know how you got to that point. It's just us, Martha. I take in guests sometimes. 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."
I raised a brow at that, quietly munching on chips. Oh, the ancient alien had a crush then? That's dangerous… I would know.
"Where is she now?" Martha asked, drawing me from my thoughts and earning an eye roll.
Humans. So nosey and needlessly cruel.
"With her family. Happy. She's fine. She's... Not that you're replacing her," he hastily added.
"Never said I was."
"Awkward," I muttered, keeping my gaze pointed away as Martha glared at me and the Doctor tugged on his earlobe.
"Just one trip to say thanks. You get one trip, then back home. I'd rather be on my own," the Doctor finished, earning a snort from me.
Says the man who was so desperate for me to stay.
"You're the one that kissed me."
"What?" I blurted out at Martha's announcement and the Doctor turned to me with his hands up.
"It was a genetic transfer!"
"Oh, I'm sure that's what you tell all the jealous ladies," I snickered, gesturing to him as I put my empty chip tray down. "All slim suit and sex hair."
"Sex hair?" He squeaked, hand flying to his hair.
"What? You really don't know?"
Martha cleared her throat. "For the record? I'm not remotely interested. I only go for humans."
"Good," the Doctor said, nodding gratefully before giving me a small glance, to which I leaned back and waved a hand at him.
"No worries here. Committed relationships aren't my thing, given the circumstances."
"Right. Well, then. Close down the gravitic anomaliser, fire up the helmic regulator. And finally, the hand brake. Ready?" He asked, pushing buttons and flipping switches on the console before stopping to eye Martha, who'd begun to look hesitant about this decision.
"No."
Not that the Doctor cared.
"Off we go."
We landed and Martha was hesitant but soon left the ship as I headed towards the Doctor. Outside the streets were cobbled and the smell of sewage was strong. I wrinkled my nose and gave the Doctor a dark look.
"Really? The Elizabethan era?"
"You recognize it?" He questioned.
"It's hard to mistake the smell," I grumbled, reaching out and grabbing Martha before someone could drop their waste on her. "Careful."
The Doctor winced, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "We're somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that."
"We're in England, if that helps," I offered, nodding to the homes nearby. "According to the architecture, anyway. Mid-1500s to early 1600s, though probably closer to the beginning of that time period. There are no coaches yet, which became popular in the late 1560s."
The Doctor was grinning at me and I raised a brow.
"What?"
"You know your stuff. I'm impressed."
I rolled my eyes. "I got bored. I studied up on things, mastered them, got to know my history because I had to." Surviving required it.
"I'm sorry, what's going on?" Martha asked, looking between us in confusion.
"Nothing," I said before the Doctor could spill that I was immortal to her as well, giving him a look that said to keep his mouth shut about it. "Don't worry about it."
She was suspicious but changed the topic. "Right. Well, are we safe? I mean, can we move around and stuff?"
"Of course, we can. Why do you ask?" The Doctor questioned as we started walking through the town.
"Because humans are overly dramatic with their movies," I replied, strolling through the town with a nagging sense of familiarity ringing in the back of my mind.
Martha nodded. "It's like in the films. You step on a butterfly, you change the future of the human race."
"Tell you what then, don't step on any butterflies. What have butterflies ever done to you?" The Doctor whined, earning an amused snort from me as I searched through my coat for money.
I usually hang onto some of the older coins, but perhaps I left them in that safety deposit box or in that old house of mine…
"What if, I don't know, what if I kill my grandfather?" Martha asked, making me wince as the Doctor shot her a look.
"Are you planning to?"
"No."
"Well then."
Ah, but I do wish things were that easy. My expression saddened at the remembrance of those important people I hadn't been able to save because of the risks involved in messing with large moments in history. I don't think I could ever forget about Abe… We got close. Losing him was…
"Oh, but hold on. Am I all right? I'm not going to get carted off as a slave, am I?" Martha asked then.
"Elizabethian times are more open than the history books say," I muttered, drawing her gaze briefly to me before she turned right back to the Doctor who shrugged.
"I'm not even human. Just walk about like you own the place. Works for me. Besides, you'd be surprised. Elizabethan England, not so different from your time. Look over there. They've got recycling."
Some men were shoveling manure into a bucket for later use before he pointed to a couple of men talking near a water barrel.
"Water cooler moment."
And then to a preacher echoing his beliefs of the next armageddon.
"Global warming."
The man gave us a confused look, but the Doctor was quick to move on, grabbing Martha's hand and bringing us into a jog to stand before a brand new building that I'd never seen so full of life before.
"Oh, yes, the Globe Theatre! Brand new. Just opened. Though, strictly speaking, it's not a globe, it's a tetradecagon. Fourteen sides. Containing the man himself."
Martha gaped. "Whoa, you don't mean. Is Shakespeare in there?"
"Oh, yes. Miss Jones, will you accompany me to the theatre?" The Doctor asked, offering his arm to her and she smiled, lopping her arm through his.
"Mister Smith, I will."
"Fallon?" The Doctor called out, drawing my gaze to him as he offered his free hand. "You want to see a true Shakespearian play?"
"It's been a while," I replied, having blurred memories of seeing Hamlet in some back alley theatre ages after the man himself had died. "I've never seen one in the Globe."
His grin widened, pleased that he'd already found something I'd not experienced before, and wiggled his fingers. "So?"
I sighed but took his hand. "Let's go see a play."
"Fantastic!"
I clapped with the others in the audience, used to the smell of sweat and alcohol stuck to the clothes of those around me. Still, the play was decent. It reminded me of decades past when I'd been a stagehand and later, one of the actors on the stage in Broadway during the 1940s. The crowd roaring as a lineup of actors bowed and the heat of the stage lights bearing down on our backs as our voices echoed to the very back rows.
The memories held me captive until someone new stepped on stage and silenced the crowd; the man boisterous enough to automatically draw all eyes to him. The Doctor was thrilled, practically bouncing on his feet at seeing the Shakespeare standing on stage right before us.
"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."
Shakespeare, as though to prove him wrong, shouted out to the crowd. "Ah, shut your big fat mouths!"
The Doctor sighed. "Oh, well."
Martha leaned over to him. "You should never meet your heroes."
"Or put your own expectations on what they might be like," I countered, cracking a small smile as Shakespeare pointed out a man wearing a wig. "He's just playing up the crowd, being a normal bloke. Let the man be."
The Doctor still looked a little downtrodden but focused on the playwright's next words as he spoke about the play we'd just watched.
"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." He jolted then, as though someone had suddenly slapped him across the face. "When? Tomorrow night. The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it Love's Labour's Won."
A frown marred my features as he finished talking and Martha spoke to the Doctor as the theater was slowly emptied.
"I'm not an expert, but I've never heard of Love's Labour's Won."
"Doesn't exist," I replied. "I know all of Shakespeare's works and that's not a published one."
The Doctor nodded. "The lost play. Only exists in rumors and no one knows why."
"Have you got a mini-disc or something? We can tape it. We can flog it. Sell it when we get home and make a mint," Martha joked, earning a serious frown from the Doctor.
"No."
"That would be bad."
"As bad as you killing your grandfather," I commented. "Altering a big event in time is dangerous. Stepping on a butterfly isn't as much."
She frowned with a wrinkle of her brows, turning back to the Doctor. "How come it disappeared in the first place?"
"Well, I was just going to give you a quick little trip in the Tardis, but I suppose we could stay a bit longer."
I rolled my eyes. "Pushover."
"Oi," he lightly complained.
"Curiosity killed the cat."
"And satisfaction brought it back."
"Unless it was at the end of its nine lives," I argued, shooting him a look before giving in. "Not that that will stop you."
He cracked a smile. "You know me so well already."
"Should we ask the stagehands where he stays?" I offered.
"Good idea. I've got it covered," he said with a wink, pulling out a wallet and waving it before bounding off like an eager puppy.
I shook my head with a small fond smile, leaning back up against a wall with Martha standing awkwardly by me.
"Are you and him…"
I glanced at her and shook my head. "No. Barely know him. I'm in the same boat as you. Trip or two and that's it. I don't plan on flirting," I said, hinting that I knew what she was going to do.
She flushed lightly, turning away and tucking her bangs back away from her face. "It's nothing serious."
"It shouldn't be anything at all," I countered. "He's a completely different species and, while I'm sure humanity is the type to later just go at anything they please, he lives far longer than you do. You should consider the consequences before you try causing him and yourself further pain."
"What would you know? You barely know him, right?" She snapped back, upset with my words.
"I know enough to know that he knows better than to get with a human." Or, he should, anyway. He's already made the mistake once with Rose. That much is obvious. Who's to say he won't do it again? I sighed, waving her off. "Nevermind. It's not like you've got a reason to listen to me. People only listen to those willing to say what they want to hear."
She looked about ready to retort, only for the Doctor to come bouncing back over.
"I got it! He's at a tavern called the Elephant and…" He stopped, grin falling as he sensed the tension in the air. "Sorry, was I interrupting something?"
I shrugged as Martha plastered a smile on her face, grabbing his elbow.
"No. It's nothing."
"All right," he muttered, eyeing her before glancing at me with a silent look of concern.
I easily brushed the look off and pushed off the wall. "You said a tavern, right? You paying for the drinks? I left my 16th-century change at home."
He cracked a smile as I started off and he followed after me, Martha in tow looking less than pleased. "You have money from the 16th century?"
I snorted. Of course, he'd be interested in that. "I've got money from every century. All the ones that used money, anyway, though I'm decent at bartering and can make my way with anything, really. Give me a fish and I'll have a decent house by the end of the night."
"Look at you, being clever," he hummed, gesturing down a nearby street. "It's over this way."
The Elephant looked rather tame compared to some of the taverns I'd been in, even as the Doctor went bursting into the main room where Shakespeare was going over scenes with his companions.
"Hello! Excuse me, not interrupting, am I? Mister Shakespeare, isn't it?"
Said playwright groaned, leaning back in exasperation and waving a hand at us to shoo us off. "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 cut himself short at seeing Martha move around the Doctor to look around, whereas I was asking the barmaid if she might supply us with some drinks. "Hey, nonny nonny. Sit right down here next to me."
The seat beside him was offered and Martha quickly took the offer and the flirt, settling in place as I got some money from the Doctor for the drinks and tip, and Shakespeare shooed off his companions. Though, judging by the barmaid's comment, this isn't abnormal for Shakespeare. He's a bit of a coquet, isn't he? I shared a look with the Doctor, but the man shrugged, willing to let things be if it meant talking with the man. No harm done, I suppose.
"Sweet lady," Shakespeare purred, eyeing Martha as the Doctor offered me the one free chair before I waved him off, willing to stand. "Such unusual clothes. So fitted."
I resisted the urge to snort, but Martha was quick to embarrass herself first.
"Um, verily, forsooth, egads."
"No, no. Don't do that," the Doctor chided her. "Don't." He lifted the wallet from before then, showing it off. "I'm Sir Doctor of Tardis and these are my companions, Miss Martha Jones, and Miss Fallon."
Shakespeare's eyes drifted to me in mild surprise, but I simply offered him a nod of the head and accepted the drink the barmaid brought me with a kind smile. Unlike Martha who is still dressed more feminine, I always tend to stray towards the gender-neutral. During this time period though, I undoubtedly look like a man even with my hair longer. I reached up and tugged at the strands that were tied back in a low, short ponytail, but one sip of my drink made me hum softly. Dear lord, I missed this most of all, I think. Alcohol when it was just beginning. Absolutely amazing stuff.
"Fallon, what about you?"
"Hm?" I hummed, glancing over at the curious looks being given to me. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."
The Doctor rolled his eyes and held up his wallet. "Do you see anything?"
I blinked at the white paper within, confused. "Am I supposed to?"
The Doctor grinned, closing it and tucking it away. "That proves it. Absolute genius. The both of you."
Rather confused with whatever was going on, I thanked the barmaid as she brought in a chair for me and settled down to figure out what they were talking about.
"Psychic paper," the Doctor hummed. "It's a… long story. Oh, I hate starting from scratch."
"Psychic?" Shakespeare questioned. "Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you exactly? More's the point, who is your delicious blackamoor lady?"
"What did you say?" Martha questioned, offended.
"Oops," Shakespeare quickly backtracked and I had to give the man credit for knowing quickly when he'd offended someone. "Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A Queen of Afric?"
"I like that last one," I pointed out, lifting my drink to him and earning a suave smile. "Queen. I like that. You can call me queen anytime, mate."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Martha complained as the Doctor tried to help.
"It's political correctness gone mad. Uh, Martha's from a far-off land. Freedonia."
"Free-what?" I questioned, though not entirely surprised with his poor naming skills.
He didn't get a chance to respond though, before a large man burst into the room; dressed to the nines in jewelry and the finest clothing for the time period.
"Oh, it's the missus calling," I joked, earning a light chuckle from Shakespeare as the man frowned at him.
"Excuse me! Hold hard a moment. 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."
Shakespeare rolled his eyes, not intimidated but more exasperated by the man who was in charge of looking over his plays for censorship. "Tomorrow morning, first thing. I'll send it round."
"I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine. The script, now!"
"I can't."
"Then, tomorrow's performance is canceled."
"It's all go around here, isn't it?" Martha muttered as the Master of Revels spat out his parting words.
"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."
"Well, who pissed in his ale then?" I questioned with a scoff, drinking more. "Tallowcatch."
"Ooh, I like that," Shakespeare smirked, grabbing a quill and jotting it down. "Can I use it?"
I shrugged, knowing it came from his play Henry IV. "Fine by me."
"Well then, mystery solved," Martha mused, confusing Shakespeare a tad, but the man didn't seem to mind much. "That's Love's Labour's Won over and done with. Thought it might be something more, you know, more mysterious."
"Don't say that," I complained. "You'll—" I was cut off as a scream and a man crying out echoed from outside the windows. " —jinx it."
We were all soon up on our feet and rushing out to the source of the scream only to find people gathering as the Master of Revels collapsed, spewing out water from his mouth.
"It's that Lynley bloke," Martha noted.
"What's wrong with him?"
I groaned, pulling off my coat and giving it over to Shakespeare who stood there looking dumbfounded. "Oh, move."
I pushed past the crowd, ordering them to move as the man finally toppled over. My hands tore away at the layers of his clothes, reached his bare chest and I dropped my head to it to listen. Not good. Not good at all. I cursed and began doing chest compressions immediately as Martha hurried over and held the man's head to prevent him choking on the water still pouring from his mouth. When this method wasn't working, I paused, looked him over, and scowled.
"Acute tamponade, maybe. I can't do anything without a full hospital setup."
"What?" Martha breathed, looking at the man and back to me. "You can't seriously—"
"I've got a lot of experience and have been a doctor before, for years," I said shortly, looking back at the man and shaking my head as I settled back on my toes. "Without an anterolateral thoracotomy, endotracheal intubation, and internal cardiac massage, there's nothing we can do."
She went to argue but knew that in the end, I was right and in the time it took for us to discuss this, the man was near enough dead that even if able, he would be beyond help. Especially in the 16th century. No sanitation, skeptical operating procedures… There was nothing I could have done. I reached over and closed Lynley's eyes, expression tight as the Doctor spoke to the barmaid from the tavern.
"Good mistress, this poor fellow has died from a sudden imbalance of the humors. A natural if unfortunate demise. Call a constable and have him taken away."
She agreed and her maid offered to rush off for her as the Doctor was then questioned softly by Martha.
"Why are you telling them that?"
"This lot have still got one foot in the Dark Ages. If I tell them the truth, they'll panic and think it was witchcraft."
"Okay, what was it then?"
Even I looked to him for answers to that.
"Witchcraft."
The group had returned to the tavern in a more solemn mood and the Doctor spared a look at Fallon. While normally somewhat quiet, the woman was dead silent and had been ever since they'd ensured someone had come to take away Lynley's body. She simply sat in silence with her drink as Dolly the barmaid stepped in.
"I got you a room, Sir Doctor. You, Miss Jones, and Miss Fallon are just across the landing."
He nodded his thanks and Shakespeare let out a soft sigh, downtrodden himself by the Master of Revels' death. "Poor Lynley. So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?"
When Fallon made no move to respond, lost in her thoughts, Martha cracked a small smile instead.
"Where a woman can do what she wants."
"And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have eyes so old?"
That took the Doctor a little off guard. "I do a lot of reading."
"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do. And you?" Shakespeare turned back to Martha. "You look at him like you're surprised he exists. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me."
"I think we should say goodnight," Martha muttered, not wanting to be scrutinized any longer.
As she left, Shakespeare rounded on Fallon, who eyed him silently.
"You are the most curious of all. Eyes so old, older than your Doctor's. Haunted and cold and struggling. How much death have you seen, Miss Fallon, to make you appear so unfeeling?"
"I feel it like any other," she replied. "I've just had far longer to understand how death works. No one is exempt… and no one should be," she murmured, glancing away.
The Doctor felt his hearts ache in sympathy for her. While he too was old and could survive far longer than any human, he could still die. He could get that release if he so wanted, but she was trapped to never die. To die endlessly.
"The way you look at her," Shakespeare said, having caught one of the Doctor's rare expressions. "It's full of empathy. You understand her pain but not entirely. You're curious about her but also afraid. As one should be, I should think, when faced with someone with eyes like hers."
The room settled into an icy cold silence before Shakespeare sighed and picked up a quill.
"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. Yours as well, Miss Fallon."
"'All the world's a stage,'" the Doctor quoted.
"Hm, I might use that. Good night, Doctor, Miss Fallon."
"Nighty night, Shakespeare."
He stepped out with Fallon bringing her drink and following, entering their shared room to see Martha eyeing the bed hesitantly.
"It's not exactly five-star, is it?"
Fallon snorted. "This is at least four-star for its time. You should be grateful. Dolly even changed the sheets. Could have bed bugs or whatever else, you know."
Martha shivered at the thought while Fallon moved to the window to look out at the night sky and the Doctor hummed.
"She's right. I've seen worse."
"I haven't even got a toothbrush," Martha teased and the Doctor dug through his pockets before handing her one.
"Contains Venusian spearmint."
Martha accepted it, though not planning on using a toothbrush that he'd just pulled from his pocket before she nodded to the bed. "So, who's going where? I mean, there's only one bed."
"Oh, we'll manage. Come on."
He hopped onto the bed and Martha was quick to join him, resting on his other side as Fallon ignored the two and stayed by the window, sitting on the edge of a table near it. The Doctor had questions for her, obviously, but knew he couldn't expect answers with Martha listening in. That, and he wasn't sure she'd be willing to answer them anyway, given they barely know each other.
So, he did what he was good at. He rambled, attempting to explain his thoughts to a clueless Martha. He suspected that she would still flirt with him—and wasn't disappointed—but he wasn't interested and would continue to play dumb in the hopes she would stop when she didn't get a response. Shakespeare's flirting would help in that aspect, but he was never quite sure what to do when a female companion began to edge close to the line separating friendship from relationship. He'd tried joking it off earlier, but that didn't seem to get it through to her. And if this doesn't work, I suppose I'll have to be blunt. I hate being blunt.
Finally, Martha got fed up with him talking about Rose, who was his first mistake. What was I thinking back then? He wondered now, having known it would've never worked out but wanting to pretend just for a moment. After a little longer, he glanced over at Martha's back and listened. Her soft breathing filled the silence and he turned away from her and towards Fallon, confident Martha was asleep and wouldn't overhear.
"You okay?"
Fallon glanced over at him with a raised brow, drink sitting on the table empty and her cheeks lightly dusted with pink. Not quite drunk, but a little tipsy. How much did she drink? He swore he'd only seen one mug of ale. But is it the same mug from earlier or a new one? He doubted she was a lightweight, though she hadn't exactly eaten anything to counter the alcohol.
"'m fine," she replied. "Why?"
He shrugged, propping his head up. "Just thought what Shakespeare said might have bothered you, is all."
She snorted, looking back out the window. "I think the world would be in trouble if every little thing someone said bothered me."
He smiled a little at that. "Do you want to lay down? I can make room or switch with you if you want. I don't have to sleep as much as humans do."
She shot him a mildly surprised look. "You still consider me human?"
"Why not?" He replied, having not expected that response. "A genetic defect doesn't mean you're not human. Just… a little extra."
She laughed, actually laughed which made the Doctor tingle with joy. "You're impossible. Really. You just… God, it's been a while since I've heard that."
"You are, though," he urged. "Seriously. Just because you live a little long—"
"I'm immortal," she cut him off, eyes losing the laughter they'd held a moment ago. "I'll live and keep living, even when everything's gone. Even when there's nothing left but space and dust… Just me."
He fell silent for a moment, body heavy with sadness. "I'm sorry."
She shrugged, though the weight of her words wasn't gone.
"It's strange though," he continued. "I should sense it. Rose and I had a friend who's different like you. He can't die either. Just sort of pops back up. I can feel it with him. How time is sort of moving around him. With you though… I don't sense anything. Like you're a ghost. Time just moves through you as if you weren't there."
"Is that supposed to be uplifting?" She scoffed as he winced.
"No. I didn't mean it like that. I just think it's strange. What makes you so different from him?"
She frowned, thinking about something, and went to speak only for a scream to ring out; startling them to their feet and out the door before Martha was even out of the bed. They rushed into the room Shakespeare had been in to find him lifting his head in surprise. He'd fallen asleep writing, it seemed, missing what happened to poor Dolly who was lying on the ground. Martha rushed past the Doctor and Fallon to the window, but the Doctor's eyes were on the immortal as she checked the woman over and slowly shook her head. Dolly was dead.
"Her heart gave out," Fallon explained. "Just stopped."
"Doctor?" Martha called out, a slight wobble of fear in her voice that drew his attention quickly as Fallon closed Dolly's eyes.
"What did you see?"
"A witch."
