Jessie laughed as she hung onto the TARDIS with all her might as it kept bumping around. “That never gets old!” she whooped.
“But how do you travel in time?” Martha asked, trying to hold onto the console.
The Doctor grinned from where he was doing his bounce/dance around the controls. “Oh, let’s take the fun and mystery out of everything,” he said sarcastically. “Martha, you don’t want to know. It just does.” He grinned maniacally. “Hold on tight!”
He flipped something, and years of experience taught Jessie to keep a tight hold on the coral, stopping her from falling. Martha, however, wasn’t so lucky, and she went crashing to the floor. The Doctor laughed from where he had fallen into the captain’s chair. “Blimey!” Martha gasped, getting back up. “Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?”
“Yes,” the Doctor confirmed with a grin. “And I failed it!”
“’Course you did,” Jessie laughed, taking her trench coat from where it hung over one of the coral structures.
The Doctor retrieved his as well. “Now, make the most of it,” he advised Martha. “I promised you one trip and one trip only. Outside this door? Brave new world.”
“Where are we?” Martha asked.
The Doctor grinned, opening the door. “Take a look. After you.”
Martha stepped out, and Jessie followed. Her eyes widened when she saw the buildings around her. “Oh, wow!” she gasped before turning back to the Doctor with a mock glare. “You took her somewhere better than me! Why did I get the end of the world and she didn’t?”
The Doctor grinned. “I was different back then.”
“No kidding,” Jessie muttered.
“Oh, you are kidding me,” Martha said slowly, looking around. “You are so kidding me! Oh my God, we did it! We traveled in time! Where are we?” She held up her hand. “No. Sorry. I got to get used to this whole new language. When are we?”
Jessie heard something up above, and her eyes widened microscopically. “Mind out!” she called, grabbing both the Doctor and Martha, yanking them backwards.
Just in time to avoid something rather disgusting getting dumped. Jessie wrinkled her nose. “Apparently,” she said dryly, “somewhere before the invention of the toilet.”
“Sorry about that,” the Doctor apologized.
Martha grinned, shaking her head. “I’ve seen worse. I’ve worked the late night shift A and E. But are we safe?” Jessie looked at her in confusion, and she tried to explain. “I mean, can we move around and stuff?”
“Of course we can,” the Doctor said in confusion. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s like in the films,” Martha said. “You step on a butterfly, you change the future of the human race.”
“Then don’t step on any butterflies,” Jessie advised.
“What have butterflies ever done to you?” the Doctor added.
“What if . . . ” Martha shrugged. “I don’t know. What if I kill my grandfather?”
“Are you planning to?” the Doctor asked.
“No.”
The Doctor shrugged. “Well, then . . . ”
“And this is London?” Martha asked.
“I think so,” the Doctor confirmed, looking at Jessie and raising an eyebrow. “Let’s get your time senses rolling. Try for the year?”
Jessie looked around, trying to figure it out. A second later, she had. “Around 1599?” she guessed.
The Doctor grinned. “Bingo.”
“But hold on,” Martha interrupted. “Am I all right? I’m not going to get carted off as a slave, am I?”
The Doctor frowned. “Why would they do that?”
Jessie whacked him in the back of the head. Martha gave a small smirk before pointing at her face. “Not exactly white, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Bad Wolf and I aren’t even human,” the Doctor pointed out. “Just walk about like you own the place. Works for me.” Martha slowly followed them, and the Doctor smiled encouragingly. “Besides, you’d be surprised. Elizabethan England. Not so different from your time. Look over there.”
Jessie giggled when she saw the men shoveling manure into a bucket. “Lookie, they’ve got recycling!”
The Doctor pointed to men talking over a water barrel. ‘Water cooler moment.”
“And the world will be consumed by flame!” a preacher announced as they walked by.
“Global warming,” both of them finished with chuckles.
The Doctor grinned. “Oh, yes. And entertainment. Popular entertainment for the masses. If I’m right, we’re just down the river from Southwark, right next to – ” He began to run through the streets, and Jessie followed, leaving Martha to follow. He stopped past Southwark Cathedral, and her eyes widened at the sight before them. “Oh, yes!” the Doctor cheered in excitement. “The Globe Theatre! Brand new. Just opened. Though, strictly speaking, it’s not a globe. It’s a tetradecagon. Fourteen sides.” He beamed. “Containing the man himself.”
Martha’s eyes widened. “Whoa! You don’t mean . . . is Shakespeare in there?”
“Oh, yes,” the Doctor agreed, turning to wink at Jessie. “Bad Wolf, will you accompany me to the theatre?”
She took his arm. “Not much of a Shakespeare fan, but why not?”
The Doctor then turned to Martha. “Miss Jones?”
“Mr. Smith,” Martha replied, taking his other arm. “I will.”
The Doctor grinned and led them towards the theatre. “When you get home, you can tell everyone you’ve seen Shakespeare,” Jessie told her.
Martha smiled. “Then I could get sectioned.”
***
The psychic paper was very useful at times. It got the Doctor, Jessie, and Martha high up in the stands. Jessie had to admit, she wasn’t a huge Shakespeare fan, but seeing the actual version of Loves Labor’s Lost in the actual Globe Theatre? That was something.
“That’s amazing!” Martha gushed at the end, applauding with the others. “Just amazing! It’s worth putting up with the smell.”
“Including the men dressed as women,” Jessie added, raising her head off of her fist. “London never changes.”
“Where’s Shakespeare?” Martha asked curiously. “I want to see Shakespeare.” Jessie’s eyes widened when Martha began to shout. “Author! Author!” She paused, then turned to look at the Doctor and Jessie. “Do people shout that?” she asked. “Do they shout Author?”
Jessie looked over her shoulder when a man began to shout “Author!” as well. It was closely followed by the rest of the crowd. The Doctor raised an eyebrow, then smirked at Martha. “Well,” he commented. “They do now.”
Jessie raised another eyebrow as Shakespeare came onstage. Martha voiced what she was thinking. “He’s a bit different from his portraits.”
“Genius,” the Doctor told them, brightening considerably. “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.”
“Wait for it,” Jessie said dramatically, holding up a finger. Martha looked at her in confusion.
Shakespeare, just a second after she said that, shouted out, “Ah, shut your big fat mouths!”
Jessie burst out laughing, along with most of the crowd, but unlike the people laughing at Shakespeare, she was laughing at the Doctor’s face. Martha looked at her incredulously, and Jessie playfully punched the Doctor in the arm. “Didn’t you learn from Dickens?” she asked.
“Oh, well,” the Doctor sighed.
Jessie chuckled. “You should never meet your heroes.”
“You’ve got excellent taste, I’ll give you that,” Shakespeare continued. He pointed to a man in the crowd. “Oh, that’s a wig!”
Jessie snickered, and Martha just kept looking at her incredulously. “Always the writers,” Jessie commented happily. “It’s always the authors.”
“I know what you’re all saying,” Shakespeare said once silence had fallen. “Loves Labor’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.”
Jessie frowned and lifted her head further. “When?” Shakespeare asked with a dramatic pause. “Tomorrow night!” The crowd roared in in appreciation. “The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it . . . ” He paused again. “Loves Labor’s Won.”
Jessie frowned and looked at the Doctor, who was looking at her the same way. She was no genius, but she definitely knew that there was no such thing as Loves Labor’s Won.
***
“I’m not an expert,” Martha was saying later as they exited the theatre, “but I’ve never heard of Loves Labor’s Won.”
“Exactly,” the Doctor told her. “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.”
“Have you got a mini-disc or something?” Martha asked. “We can tape it. We can flog it. Sell it when we get home and make a mint.”
Jessie glared at her. “Um. No.”
Martha raised an eyebrow. “That would be bad?”
“Um. Yes.”
Martha glared right back at her. “Well, how come it disappeared in the first place?” she challenged.
The Doctor chose that moment to intervene. “Well, I was just going to give you a quick little trip in the TARDIS . . . but I suppose we could stay a bit longer.”
Jessie followed the Doctor, leaving Martha to follow.
***
The Doctor walked quickly through The Elephant tavern and stopped in the doorway of a room. “Hello!” he said brightly. “Excuse me. Not interrupting, am I? Mr. Shakespeare, is it?”
“Oh, no,” Shakespeare groaned, and Jessie hid a laugh behind her hand as she and Martha walked to catch up to the Doctor. “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 – ”
Jessie poked her head around the Doctor and looked around, then frowned at the Doctor. “You were interrupting something,” she told him blankly.
Shakespeare’s eyes widened when he saw her, and they further widened when Martha poked her head around Jessie. “Hey, nonny, nonny,” he said, and Jessie raised an eyebrow. “Sit right down here next to me.” He gestured to the two men with him. “You two get sewing on them costumes. Off you go.”
The maid smiled. “Come on, lads. I think our William’s found his new muses.”
Jessie smirked and followed the Doctor into the room and sat down on his right, Martha on his left. “Such unusual clothes,” Shakespeare commented, looking at Martha. “So fitted.”
“Er, verily,” Martha tried out. “Forsooth, egads!”
Jessie snorted, and the Doctor winced. “No, no, don’t do that,” he told her. “Don’t.”
“Hoots, mon!” she whispered to him.
He rolled his eyes, but gave her a grin before flashing his psychic paper to Shakespeare. “I’m Sir Doctor of TARDIS, my best mate Dame Jessie of the Nine Realms, and this is our companion, Miss Martha Jones.”
Martha looked at Jessie in confusion, but Shakespeare sniffed. “Interesting. That bit of paper.” He pointed. “It’s blank.”
Jessie grinned wide. “Oh, that’s clever,” she commented.
“That proves it,” the Doctor agreed. “Absolute genius.”
“No, it says so right there,” Martha said, looking at the psychic paper. “Sir Doctor, Dame Jessie, and Martha Jones. It says so.”
“And I say it’s blank,” Shakespeare countered.
“Psychic paper,” the Doctor explained, then shook his head. “Er. Long story.” He sighed, looking at Jessie. “Oh, I hate starting from scratch.”
“At least I’m not the one with it,” Jessie told him. “But if I’m at least half you, I need some of my own.”
The Doctor made a face. “Ask the TARDIS.”
Jessie smirked. “I will.”
“Psychic?” Shakespeare interrupted. “Never heard of that before, and words are my trade. Who are you exactly?” He looked over Jessie and Martha, and Jessie shifted in her chair self-consciously. Even in a different body, I’m wary of the stares of men, she thought. “More the point, who is your goddess of a platinum beauty and your delicious blackamoor lady?”
The Doctor placed his hand lightly on Jessie’s shoulder as Martha stared at Shakespeare. “What did you say?” she demanded.
Shakespeare frowned. “Oops. Isn’t that the word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl?” he tried. “A swarth? A Queen of Afric?”
Martha’s jaw dropped. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”
“It’s political correctness gone mad,” the Doctor stated. “Er, Martha’s from a far off land. Freedonia.”
Freedonia? Jessie thought with a snort. What kind of place is that?
“Excuse me!” Jessie twisted in her chair to see an expensive-looking man enter. “Hold on a moment! This is abominable behavior! A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script, Mr. Shakespeare! As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed!”
“Tomorrow morning, first thing,” Shakespeare promised. “I’ll send it round.”
“I don’t work to your schedule,” the man snapped. “You work to mine. The script, now!”
“I can’t.”
“Then tomorrow’s performance is cancelled.”
“It’s all go around here, isn’t it?” Martha whispered.
Jessie winked at her as the man continued. “I’m returning to my office for a banning order. If it’s the last thing I do, Loves Labor’s Won will never be played.”
Martha waited until after the man had left to comment. “Well, then, mystery solved. That’s Loves Labor’s Won over and done with. Thought it might be something more . . . you know . . . more mysterious.”
There were screams from outside, and Jessie burst from her chair and took off outside. She darted down the stairs and stopped to see the man choking. “Hey!” she shouted, pushing through the crowd. “Out of the way!”
“What’s wrong with him?” the Doctor asked, arriving and following through her. “Leave it to me! I’m a Doctor!”
“So am I!” Martha shouted. “Near enough!”
Jessie, however, made it to the man first, but he suddenly collapsed. Jessie skidded to a halt and dropped down, then looked up at the Doctor and Martha. “Block their view,” she hissed, and they did. Jessie put her hands firmly on the man’s chest and gave him an electric shock, and she jerked away when water gushed out of his mouth.
“What the hell is that?” Martha asked in shock.
“I’ve never seen a death like it,” the Doctor whispered. “His lungs are full of water. He drowned, and then . . . I don’t know, like a blow to the heart. An invisible blow.”
Jessie stood. “Good mistress,” she told the maid who had arrived. “This poor fellow has died from a sudden imbalance of the humors, my mate tells me. A natural, if unfortunate demise. Call a constable and have him taken away is his advise.”
She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
A red-haired woman put her hand on her arm. “I’ll do it, ma’am,” she said before walking off.
“And why are you telling them that?” Martha asked as Jessie walked back.
“They still have a foot in the Dark Ages,” Jessie replied. “If they’re told the truth, they’ll panic and think it was witchcraft.”
“OK. What is it, then?” Martha challenged.
Jessie looked at her. “Witchcraft,” she replied simply.
***
“I got the three of you some rooms, Sir Doctor,” the head maid, Dolly, told the Doctor later in the evening. “You and Dame Jessie are just across the landing, and Miss Jones has the room right next to it.”
He nodded his thanks as Shakespeare sighed. “Poor Lynley. So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?”
“Where a woman can do what she likes,” Martha corrected.
“And you, Sir Doctor,” Shakespeare continued. “How can a man so young have eyes so old?”
“I do a lot of reading,” the Doctor replied briefly.
“A trite reply,” Shakespeare commented. “Yeah. That’s what I’d do. But you are not even the oddest.” He turned to Jessie. “The woman you call Dame Jessie, but who is so much more. You have the wolf about you, my dear, two mirror images clashing. Violet and bronze clashing with gold and silver. Which one is winning?”
Jessie bristled. “I’m currently trying to figure that out, thank you very much.”
“And you?” Shakespeare asked, pointing at Martha. “You look at the two of them like you’re surprised they exist. They’re as much of a puzzle to you as they are to me.”
“I think we should say good night,” Martha interrupted, turning on her heel and leaving.
“I must work,” Shakespeare said, sitting up straight. “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.”
Jessie smiled. “All the world’s a stage,” she quoted.
“Hmm,” Shakespeare said thoughtfully. “I might use that.” The Doctor chuckled. “Good night, Doctor, Jessie.”
“Nighty night, Shakespeare,” the Doctor replied.
***
Jessie scrunched up her nose as she investigated around the room. “Well, this isn’t exactly five star, is it?"
“Oh, it’ll do,” the Doctor said with a grin. “We’ve seen worse.”
There was a knock on the door, and Martha entered. “Sorry,” she apologized. “But I haven’t even got a toothbrush.”
The Doctor brightened. “Oh! Er . . . ” He fumbled around with his pockets, and he pulled out a toothbrush, holding it out to her. “Contains Venusian spearmint.”
Jessie giggled. “So, who’s going where?” she asked. “We’ve only got the one bed.”
The Doctor shrugged, leaning back against the headboard. “We’ll manage. Come on.”
Jessie noted Martha’s sort of jealous look as she sat down on the other side. “So,” Martha said. “Magic and stuff. That’s a surprise. It’s all a little bit Harry Potter.”
“Oh, I cried in book seven,” the Doctor said affectionately.
Jessie pointed to Martha. “Don’t let Loki or Lorelei or Amora hear you saying stuff about magic not being real. I’d hate to see you go so soon.”
Martha glared at her before continuing. “But is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic, and all that, it’s real?”
The Doctor snorted. “’Course it isn’t!”
“Except Asgard,” Jessie said, her face falling. “They wouldn’t even recognize me now.”
Martha glared from one to the other. “Well, how am I supposed to know?” she challenged. “I’ve only just started believing in time travel. Give me a break!”
“Looks like witchcraft, but it isn’t,” the Doctor said. “Can’t be.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to stand there all night?”
Martha sighed. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”
She left, and Jessie chuckled. “I get the feeling she doesn’t like me.” She shifted a little. “Move over a little bit.” He did, and she laid down comfortably. “So tell me more about this.”
“There’s such a thing as psychic energy, but a human couldn’t channel it like that,” the Doctor explained, laying down next to her. “Not without a generator the size of Taunton, and I think we’d have spotted that.” Jessie smiled at him. “No, there’s something I’m missing, Jessie. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can’t see it.”
“I can’t, either,” she told him. “Not yet.” She made a face. “I bet Skye would know.” She smiled softly. “Skye or Saleen.” She sighed. “Still, can’t be helped.”
The Doctor smiled softly at her. “Martha’s still a novice. We’ll take her back tomorrow.”
Jessie nodded. “I like it when it’s just the two of us.” She looked at him. “But there’s something I meant to ask.”
He shrugged. “Ask away.”
She took a deep breath. “While we were on the moon, when I heard your voice in my mind . . . does that mean I’m telepathic now, too?”
“I think it’s a low level,” he said. “Not as great as a full-blooded Time Lord, but definitely stronger than others. I can help you block out some thoughts and broadcast others like I did, but it can take a while.”
“But I can hear you now if you think right at me?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Jessie smirked. “Great.” She turned over onto her side. “That’s an advantage to have over Martha.”
“Oi!” the Doctor whined, and Jessie laughed before blowing out the candle.
***
The Doctor remained watching Jessie while she was sleeping, mulling things over in his head. Sure, he was thinking about what was going on, but what always kept bubbling up was Jessie’s knowledge. She’d never been dumb, but she definitely had a Time Lord mind. And it had developed so quickly, too.
He was brought out of his musings when he heard a sharp scream. Jessie was out of bed in an instant and running, the Doctor bounding around the other side. She grabbed his arm and phased them through the walls of their bedroom, nearly running into Martha. “Hey!” the woman shouted, but they kept running.
They made it to Shakespeare’s room, the author himself looking shaken but OK, but the Doctor’s attention was drawn to the woman sprawled on the floor. “Dolly,” Jessie whispered, dropping down next to her.
“Her heart gave out,” the Doctor diagnosed, crouching down next to her as well, barely noticing Martha walk past to the window. “She died of fright.”
“Doctor?”
The Doctor looked up at Martha’s worried tone. “What did you see?” he asked.
Martha swallowed visibly. “A witch.”
***
“Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey,” Shakespeare mourned later, Jessie sitting on a chair with her feet propped up on his desk, keeping her boots away from his ink, quill, and papers. “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 quoted.
“I might use that,” Shakespeare commented.
Jessie snorted. “Can’t. Someone else’s. It’d be plagiarism.”
“But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright, and they were both connected to you,” Martha said.
“You’re accusing me?” Shakespeare asked.
“No, but I saw a witch,” Martha said. “Big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you’ve written about witches.”
“I have?” Shakespeare asked in surprise, and Jessie blinked, remembering the year again. “When was that?”
Jessie went into a coughing mode, and Shakespeare quickly bustled around to try and help her while the Doctor talked to Martha. She miraculously recovered and sat back up, and Shakespeare checked her quickly before turning to Martha and saying, “Peter Streete spoke of witches.”
“Who’s Peter Streete?” Martha asked.
“Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe.”
“The architect,” the Doctor agreed before blinking. “Hold on . . . the architect. The architect!” he said loudly, making Jessie jump and almost fall backwards in her seat. “The Globe! Come on!”
***
Jessie crouched up in the rafters of the Globe, looking down on the others. “The columns there, right?” the Doctor asked, pointing around. “I’ve always wondered, but I never asked. Tell me, Will, why fourteen sides?”
“It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that’s all,” Shakespeare replied. “Said it carried the sound well.”
“Fourteen,” Jessie mused, and they all looked up towards her. “Why is that ringing a bell? Fourteen . . . ”
“There’s fourteen lines in a sonnet,” Martha suggested from where she sat onstage.
“So there is,” the Doctor agreed, nodding to her. “Good point. Words and shapes following the same design.” He began pacing. “Fourteen lines, fourteen sides, fourteen facets . . . ” He shook his head. “Oh, my head . . . Bad Wolf?”
“Tetradecagon,” Jessie muttered along with him, thoughts whirling through her head. “Think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines . . . ”
“This is just a theatre!” Shakespeare protested.
“Oh yeah, but a theatre’s magic, isn’t it?” the Doctor asked with a smile. “You should know. Stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis at the right time. Oh, you can make men weep or cry with joy. Change them. You can change people’s minds just with words in this place. But if you exaggerate that – ”
“It’s like your police box,” Martha said. “Small wooden box with all that power inside.”
Jessie grinned, looking down at the Doctor. “I like her right now.”
“Right now?” Martha echoed in surprise.
“Tell you what, though,” the Doctor said loudly when Jessie sent Martha a look, “Peter Streete would know. Can I talk to him?”
“You won’t get an answer,” Shakespeare replied. “A month after finishing this place, lost his mind.”
“Why?” Martha asked. “What happened?”
“Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled.”
“Where is he now?” Jessie asked.
“Bedlam,” Shakespeare replied simply.
“What’s Bedlam?”
“Bethlem Hospital. The madhouse.”
“We’re going there,” the Doctor decided. “Right now. Come on!”
He headed for the exit, and Jessie dropped down after him. “Wait!” Shakespeare shouted as Martha joined the running. “I’m coming with you! I want to witness this at first hand!”
***
“So,” Shakespeare told Martha as they walked behind the Doctor and the Bad Wolf. “Tell me of Freedonia, where women can be doctors, writers, actors.”
“This country’s ruled by a woman,” Martha pointed out.
“Ah, but she’s royal,” Shakespeare countered. “That’s God’s business. Though you are a royal beauty.”
Martha blinked. Was Shakespeare flirting with her? “Whoa nelly,” she said, holding her hands up and laughing a little. “I know for a fact you’ve got a wife in the country.”
“But Martha, this is Town.”
“Come on,” the Doctor said loudly, turning back to them. “We can all have a good flirt later.”
Shakespeare raised an eyebrow. “Is that a promise, Doctor?”
The Doctor blinked, and the Bad Wolf burst out laughing, “Oh,” she managed to gasp out, “fifty seven academics just punched the air!”
The Doctor snorted loudly before gesturing to them all. “Now, move!”
***
Jessie had to keep a hand over her mouth as they moved through the hospital. “Does my Lord Doctor wish some entertainment while he waits?” the Keeper asked, leading them through the asylum. “I’d whip these madmen. They’ll put on a good show for you. Mad dog in Bedlam.”
“No, I don’t,” the Doctor ground out.
“Well, wait here, my lords, while I make him decent for the ladies.”
“Good Odin almighty,” Jessie whispered as she observed all of the mad men in their cells. “And they call this a hospital?”
“Where patients are whipped to entertain the gentry?” Martha agreed before turning on Shakespeare. “And you put your friend in here?”
“Oh, it’s all so different in Freedonia,” Shakespeare snorted.
“But you’re clever. Do you honestly think this place is any good?”
“I’ve been mad. I’ve lost my mind. Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose.”
“Mad in what way?” Martha asked, even as Jessie’s mind came up with the reason why.
The Doctor beat her to it, though. “You lost your son,” he said softly.
“My only boy,” Shakespeare confirmed hoarsely. “The Black Death took him. I wasn’t even there.”
Martha looked at him sorrowfully. “I didn’t know,” she apologized. “I’m sorry.”
“It made me question everything,” Shakespeare continued. “The futility of this fleeting existence. To be or not to be.” Jessie giggled softly at the look on his face as he said that. “Oh, that’s quite good,” he said thoughtfully.
“You should write that down,” she suggested.
“Maybe not,” Shakespeare muttered. “A bit pretentious?”
“This way, my lord!” the Keeper shouted.
Jessie followed the Doctor down the hall to see the Keeper in front of a cell with a figure in rags in it, their back to them. Jessie bristled in rage. “They can be dangerous, my lord and lady,” the Keeper warned. “Don’t know their own strength.”
“Yeah, well, maybe it helps if you don’t whip them,” Jessie snarled angrily. Now get out!”
The Keeper backed away from her before leaving. The Doctor nodded to her before slowly approaching Peter. “Peter?” he asked. “Peter Streete?”
“He’s the same as he was,” Shakespeare commented as he and Martha entered the cell as well. “You’ll get nothing out of him.”
“Peter?” Jessie whispered, kneeling next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. He jerked up and looked at her. She smiled. “Hey,” she whispered.
“Peter,” the Doctor said, crouching next to her and putting his fingers on the man’s temples. “I’m the doctor. Go into the past. One year ago. Let your mind go back, back to when everything was fine and shiny. Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A Winter’s Tale. Let go.” He smiled. “That’s it. That’s it. Just let go.”
“Tell us the story, Peter,” Jessie encouraged as the Doctor laid him back on the cot. “Tell us about the witches.”
“Witches spoke to Peter,” Peter began in a ratty voice. “In the night, they whispered. They whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design. Their design! The fourteen walls. Always fourteen. When the work was done, they snapped poor Peter’s wits.”
“Where did Peter see the witches?” the Doctor asked. “Where in the city?”
“Peter, tell us,” Jessie coaxed. “You’ve got to tell us. Where were they?”
He stared up at her for a second before replying. “All Hallows Street.”
There was a cackle. “Too many words!”
Jessie backed away hurriedly when she saw the old crone in a black cloak that appeared. “What the bloody hell?” she yelped.
“What the hell?” Martha put in.
“Just one touch of the heart,” the witch said.
“No!” the Doctor shouted.
The witch simply smiled and put her hand on Peter’s chest, and he slumped lifelessly “Now, who would be next, hmm? Just one touch.” She chuckled. “Oh, oh, I’ll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals.”
“Let us out!” Martha screamed, rattling the bars of the cell. “Let us out!”
“Who will die first, hmm?” the witch continued with a toothy grin.
“Well, if you’re looking for volunteers . . . ” the Doctor mused, putting up his hand at the same time as Jessie did.
“No!” Martha cried. “Don’t!”
“Doctor, Jessie, can you stop her?” Shakespeare demanded.
“No mortal has power over me,” the witch boasted.
“Oh, but there’s a power in words,” the Doctor pointed out. “If we can find the right one. If we can just know you.”
“None on Earth has knowledge of us.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re here,” the Doctor retorted before shaking his head and putting on a look of concentration. “Now, think, think, think . . . humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy . . . ”
And Jessie got it. “Ha!” she burst out triumphantly, clapping her hands and making the Doctor jumped. “Fourteen!” she crowed. “I got it! Always fourteen! The fourteen stars of the Rexel planetary configuration!” She pointed. “Creature, I name you Carrionite!”
The witch screamed and vanished in a flash of light. Martha was staring at her in shock, and so was the Doctor, but the Doctor was staring at her in a mixture of horror and fascination, while Martha just looked plain confused. “What did you do?” Martha asked.
“I named her,” Jessie replied with a smile. “The power of a name. Loki told me before that it’s old magic.”
“But there’s no such thing as magic!” Martha insisted.
“So says the one who’s never seen Asgard or what the bloody hell Malekith did with the Aether,” Jessie shot back.
“It’s a different sort of science,” the Doctor broke in. “You lot, you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom. Carrionites use words instead.”
“Use them for what?” Shakespeare asked.
Jessie grinned. “The usual.”
“The end of the world,” the Doctor elaborated.
***
“The Carrionites disappeared way back at the dawn of the universe,” the Doctor explained later back in Shakespeare’s room. “Nobody was sure if they were real or legend.”
“Well, I’m going for real,” Shakespeare deadpanned.
“But what do they want?” Martha asked.
Jessie knew this one. “A new empire on Earth,” she replied. “Full of bones and blood and witchcraft.” She grinned. “Oh, Loki would have loved that once upon a time.”
“But how?” Martha pressed.
The Doctor looked right at Shakespeare. “I’m looking at the man with the words.”
“Me?” Shakespeare asked in surprise. “I’ve done nothing!”
“Hold on, though,” Martha said, turning to him. “What were you doing last night, when that Carrionite was in the room?”
“Finishing the play,” Shakespeare replied.
“What happens on the last page?” Jessie asked, sitting up.
“The boys get the girls,” Shakespeare replied, thinking. “They have a bit of a dance. It’s all as funny and thought provoking as usual.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “Except those last few lines.” He looked back up at them. “Funny thing is, I don’t actually remember writing them.”
“That’s it!” the Doctor exclaimed. “They used you! They gave you the final words like a spell, like a code. Loves Labor’s Won. It’s a weapon! The right combination of words, spoken at the right place, with the shape of the Globe as an energy converter! The play’s the thing!” Jessie giggled as the Doctor turned to leave before whipping back to Shakespeare and saying, “And yes, you can have that.” He turned to her. “Happen to have a map?”
Jessie stared at him. “You’re asking me?”
“Here,” Shakespeare said, pulling one out of his desk drawer.
The Doctor took it and stared at it, then pointed at one of the streets. “All Hallows Street. There it is.” He closed it and put it down on the desk again. “Martha, Bad Wolf, we’ll track them down. Will, you get to the Globe. Whatever you do, stop that play.”
“I’ll do it,” Shakespeare agreed. “All these years, I’ve been the cleverest man around. Next to you, I know nothing.”
“Oh, don’t complain,” Martha groaned.
“I’m not. It’s marvelous.” The bard held out a hand to the Doctor. “Good luck, Doctor.”
The Doctor shook it. “Good luck, Shakespeare.” He turned and ran for the door. “Once more, unto the breach!”
“I like that,” Shakespeare commented behind them before Jessie started laughing. “Wait a minute! That’s one of mine!”
“Oh, just shift!” Jessie barked before continuing to run.
***
“All Hallows Street,” the Doctor muttered when they arrived. “But which house?”
“The thing is, though, am I missing something here?” Martha asked. “The world didn’t end in 1599. It just didn’t. Look at me, I’m living proof!”
“So am I,” Jessie told her. “But that’s sort of the thing. It’s . . . ” She made a face. “Oh, this is confusing.”
“I know,” the Doctor agreed. “How to explain the mechanics of the infinite temporal flux?” He perked up. “I know! Back To The Future! It’s like Back To The Future!”
“The film?” Martha asked.
“No,” Jessie drawled out. “The novelization!”
That earned her a punch in the arm from Martha, and the Doctor shook his head. “Yes, the film,” he said calmly. “Marty McFly goes back and changes history.”
“And he starts fading away,” Martha remembered before she blanched. “Oh my God. Am I going to fade?”
“You, Bad Wolf, and the entire future of the human race,” the Doctor confirmed. “It ends right now in 1599 if we don’t stop it.” He turned around and continued looking. “But which house?”
Jessie grinned when she saw a door creak open, and she pointed. “Doctor? Make that ‘witch’ house.”
***
Jessie folded her arms when she saw the redheaded maid back at the house staring at them with a smirk on her face. “Well, I take it we’re expected.”
The maid, Lilith, smiled. “Oh, I think Death has been waiting for you a very long time.”
“Right, then,” Martha said boldly, pushing past Jessie. “It’s my turn. I know how to do this.” She pointed at Lilith. “I name thee Carrionite!” Lilith gasped in mock horror before cackling, and Martha frowned, turning to the Doctor. “What did I do wrong? Was it the finger?”
“The power of a name works only once,” Lilith explained. “Observe. I gaze upon this bag of bones, and now I name thee – ” She pointed. “Martha Jones!”
Martha’s eyes rolled back, and she sagged, barely caught by Jessie. The Doctor whirled on Lilith. “What have you done?” he demanded.
“Only sleeping, alas,” Lilith replied before tilting her head. “It’s curious . . . the name has less impact. She’s somehow out of her time. And as for you, Sir Doctor!” She pointed, but Jessie smirked when the Doctor just stood there, and absolutely nothing happened. Lilith frowned. “Fascinating. There’s no name. Why would a man hide his title with such despair?” Only to his lover can a Time Lord or Lady give their name, Jessie thought, when Lilith suddenly brightened. “Oh, but look,” she cooed. “There’s still one word with the power that aches.”
“The naming won’t work on me,” the Doctor warned.
Lilith smirked. “But your heart grows cold. Your very life is betrayed, at the thought of – ” She pointed at Jessie. “Jessie Nightshade!”
Jessie stiffened, ready for whatever happened . . . but nothing did. She looked over herself in confusion before looking up. “It didn’t work,” she said in surprise.
The Doctor was staring at her in just as much surprise. “Why didn’t it work?” he asked.
Lilith seemed horrified. “No!” she shrieked. “No! That is your name!”
Jessie finally snapped and stood. “Then explain how that didn’t work, Carrionite,” she spat, stalking forward. “Answer me this. The Carrionites vanished. So where did you go?”
“The Eternals found the right word to banish us into deep darkness,” Lilith replied, backing towards the window.
“And how did you escape?” the Doctor pressed.
“New words,” Lilith sighed. “New and glittering from a mind like no other.”
“Shakespeare,” Jessie whispered.
“His son perished,” Lilith agreed. “The grief of a genius. Grief without measure. Madness enough to allow us entrance.”
“How many of you?” the Doctor asked.
“Just the three,” Lilith replied, and Jessie snorted at the irony. “But the play tonight shall restore the rest. Then the human race will be purged as pestilence. And from this world, we will lead the universe back into the old ways of blood and magic.”
“Hmm,” the Doctor mused. “Busy schedule.” He shrugged. “But first, you’ve got to get past me.”
“And me,” Jessie added.
“Oh, that should be a pleasure,” Lilith replied, reaching up to caress the Doctor’s face. “Considering my enemy has such a handsome shape.”
Jessie laughed. “Oh, trust me, that form of magic won’t work on him.”
“Oh, we’ll see,” Lilith replied, pulling her hand away.
Jessie tilted her head at the hairs she held. “What was that for?” she asked.
“Souvenir,” Lilith replied, heading for the window.
“Well, give it back!” the Doctor shouted, following her. Lilith jumped into the air and began to hover before flying out the window backwards. Jessie smirked and held her arms out and let herself hover up as well. The Doctor stared between the two of them and sighed. “Well, that’s just cheating!”
“Behold, Doctor,” Lilith said, holding up a doll and wrapping his hair around it. “Men to Carrionites are nothing but puppets.”
“Now, you might call that magic,” the Doctor commented. “I’d call that a DNA replication module.”
“What use is your science now?” Lilith asked sweetly before using a pin and stabbing the doll.
The Doctor screamed and collapsed, and Jessie’s eyes flared. Lilith laughed and flew away. “Oh, not this time, bitch,” Jessie spat before flying after her.
Lilith turned and noticed her, and she sneered before turning to face Jessie. “The woman with no name,” she stated. “And what is your place in this?”
“You’re not going to get away with this,” Jessie growled.
Lilith smiled and held up what appeared to be a crystal ball. “Observe, then, Time Lady.”
“Betwixt Dravidian shores, and linear five nine three oh one six seven point oh two, and strikes the fulsome grove of Rexel Four,” the actor onstage recited. “Co-radiating crystal, activate!”
Jessie’s eyes widened when the wind strengthened, and above the Globe Theatre, a red light began to shine. Lilith cackled triumphantly. “The portal opens,” she declared. “It begins!”
***
The Doctor ran out onto the stage with Martha and Shakespeare, looking around. “Where is she?” Martha asked.
There was a sudden bang, and then a flash of blond and ginger flew by. Lilith and Jessie were locked in what appeared to be a magic duel in the upper balconies, Lilith defending herself while Jessie went on a rampage, the Aether swirling red around her. The Doctor smiled. “Handling herself,” she replied briefly before turning to Shakespeare. “Come on, Will, history needs you!”
“But what can I do?” Shakespeare demanded.
“Reverse it!”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“The shape of the Globe gives words power, but you’re the wordsmith, the one true genius. The only man clever enough to do it!”
“But what words?” Shakespeare asked in exasperation. “I have none ready!”
The Doctor stared at him hard. “You’re William Shakespeare!”
There was a bang, and some of the rafters fell. Jessie simply pointed and they flew away before she aimed a ball of energy at Lilith. “But these Carrionites,” Shakespeare protested. “They need such precision!”
“Trust yourself,” the Doctor whispered. “When you’re locked away in your room, the words just come, don’t they? Like magic. Words of the right sound, the right shape, the right rhythm. Words that last forever. That’s what you do, Will. You choose perfect words. Do it. Improvise.”
Shakespeare stared at him before taking a deep breath and turning to face the portal that was letting the Carrionites swarm. “Close up this din of hateful, dire decay, composition of your witches’ plot,” he began. “You thieve my brains, consider me your toy. My doting Doctor tells me I am not!”
***
Lilith suddenly stopped, and Jessie slumped on the railing. “No!” she wailed. “Words of power!”
***
“Foul Carrionite specters, cease your show!” Shakespeare called out. “Between the points – ”
He faltered, and then Jessie poked her head over the top of the balcony. “Seven six one three nine oh!” she shouted down before ducking back and slamming up a wall of Aether energy when Lilith started fighting again.
Shakespeare took it, though. “Seven six one three nine oh!” he repeated. “Banished like a tinker’s cuss, I say to thee – ”
He faltered again, and the Doctor hurriedly tried to think of a rhyme. Martha suddenly straightened from behind them and shouted out, “Expelliarmus!”
“Expelliarmus!” the Doctor agreed with a grin.
“Expelliarmus!” Shakespeare shouted.
“Expelliarmus?” Jessie shouted down incredulously.
The Doctor grinned back up at her. “Good old JK!”
***
Lilith screamed in horror. “The deep darkness! They are consumed!”
Jessie watched her disappear, and she ran to the balcony to watch the other Carrionite spirits get sucked away back into the portal, followed by pages of the play. She smiled. “Yeah,” she confirmed. “Good old JK.”
The Doctor walked offstage as the crowd began to applaud, and Jessie knelt next to the crystal ball she’d seen Lilith used. She smiled at the witches scratching at the surface. She smirked. “Bye bye, Carrionites,” she cooed.
***
“And I say,” Shakespeare was telling Martha the next morning. “A heart for a hart and a dear for a deer.”
Martha shook her head. “I don’t get it.”
“Then give me a joke from Freedonia,” he suggested.
Martha smiled. “OK. Shakespeare walks into a pub and the landlord says, ‘Oi, mate, you’re Bard!’”
“That’s brilliant,” Shakespeare told her. “Doesn’t make sense, mind you, but never mind that.” He put his arm around her waist. “Now come here.”
Martha pulled away when he tried to kiss her. “I’ve only just met you!”
“The Doctor may never kiss you, and he may go for the other woman with you,” Shakespeare pointed out, and Martha considered that. “Why not entertain a man who will?”
Martha shook her head. “I don’t know how to tell you this, oh great genius,” she said slowly, “but your breath doesn’t half stink.”
There was laughter off to the side, and the Doctor waltzed up with a small stiff ruff around his neck and carrying an animal skull. The Bad Wolf was right behind him with a crystal ball. “Good props store back there,” the Doctor complimented before holding up the skull and frowning at it. “I’m not sure about this, though.” He held it out to the Bad Wolf. “What do you think? Sycorax?”
“Definitely Sycorax,” the Bad Wolf agreed with a laugh.
“Sycorax,” Shakespeare mused. “Nice word. I’ll have that off you as well.”
“We should be on ten percent,” the Doctor told him before tilting his head. “How’s your head?”
“Still aching.”
“Here. I got you this.” He took the ruff off and put it on Shakespeare. “Neck brace. Wear that for a few days till it’s better.”
“You might want to keep it, though,” the Bad Wolf advised. “It suits you.”
“What about the play?” Martha asked.
“Gone,” the Doctor replied. “I looked all over. Every single copy of Loves Labor’s Won went up in the sky.”
Shakespeare sighed. “My lost masterpiece.”
“You could write it up again,” Martha suggested.
The Bad Wolf made a face. “Yeah, better not,” she said. “There’s still power in those certain words. Might be best for it just to stay forgotten.”
“Oh, but I’ve got new ideas,” Shakespeare told them. “Perhaps it’s time I wrote about fathers and sons, in memory of my boy, my precious Hamnet.”
Martha blinked, staring at him. “Hamnet?” she asked.
Shakespeare nodded. “That’s him.”
Martha kept staring. “Hamnet?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Shakespeare asked in confusion.
“Anyway,” the Bad Wolf said loudly. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather we were off. Gotta get these three – ” She held up the ball. “Up in the attic where these guys can scream for eternity.”
“And we need to take Martha back to Freedonia,” the Doctor added.
“You mean travel on through time and space,” Shakespeare interrupted.
The Doctor blinked. “You what?”
“Martha,” the Bad Wolf groaned.
“I didn’t say anything!” she protested.
“You’re from another world like the Carrionites, and Martha and Jessie are from the future,” Shakespeare said. “It’s not hard to work out.”
The Doctor stared at him before chuckling. “That’s incredible. You are incredible.”
“We’re alike in many ways, Doctor,” Shakespeare replied before turning to Martha. “Martha, let me say goodbye to you in a new verse. A sonnet for my Dark Lady. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” Martha shot the Bad Wolf a glare when she began to giggle. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”
“Will!”
“Will, you’ll never believe it!”
Martha turned to see two of the actors from the previous night run in, the sound of galloping hooves behind them. “She’s here!” the second actor continued. “She’s turned up!”
“We’re the talk of the town,” the other one piped up. “She heard about last night. She wants us to perform it again!”
“Who?” Martha asked.
The actor smiled. “Her Majesty. She’s here!”
Martha watched as there was a fanfare, and two pikemen entered, along with – “Queen Elizabeth the First!” the Doctor exclaimed.
She looked right past him and pasted her eyes on the blond next to him. “Bad Wolf,” she stated.
Jessie blinked. “What?”
The Queen then turned to the Doctor. “And her consort, the Doctor!”
The Doctor blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Say that again?” the Bad Wolf put in, her voice a notch higher.
“My sworn enemy,” the Queen announced, pointing at the Bad Wolf.
“What?” the Bad Wolf asked, looking back and forth. “What’d I do this time?”
“Off with her head!” the Queen ordered.
The Bad Wolf groaned. “What?”
“Never mind what, just run!” Martha snapped, getting to her feet. “See you, Will! And thanks!”
She took off running, followed closely by the Bad Wolf and the Doctor. “Stop that pernicious Bad Wolf!” the Queen shouted, and Martha heard Shakespeare laugh as they ran.
***
“Stop in the name of the Queen!”
“What have you done to upset her?” Martha asked as they ran.
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Jessie asked cheerfully. “I haven’t even met her yet! That’s time travel, Martha. Still, I can’t wait to find out! It’s always the royalty!”
“That’s something to look forward to,” the Doctor added, holding the door open for the two girls before blinking when a pikeman aimed at them. “Oo!”
He quickly ducked in and closed the door, and Jessie giggled when she heard the thud of an arrow, and the TARDIS hummed angrily. “Sorry, girl.”
***
Ooh, her name didn't work! :O Who's anxious to see what happens when we see what happens in between "The Shakespeare Code" and "Gridlock?" Me, and I still have to even write it!
How do you like the whole Bad Wolf/Martha bickering in here? Would you like to see more of it? And when do you think Jessie should tell Martha about what really happened to her?
Ah, "The Day of the Doctor." We at least now know that this version of the Bad Wolf will be around with this version of the Doctor then. I'll have fun figuring out what exactly our favorite blond Aussie Wolf does to tick off the Queen. If anyone has any ideas on that, let me know!
That's all. :) Have fun reading!