A/N
ok so I changed the episode order after this will be a Matt adventure then Gridlock, then the Lazarus Experiment, then it's done and the sequel will start.
Sorry this book has been getting long lately
Everyone settled and the maid, Dolly, announced before leaving, "I got you a room, Sir Doctor. You, Miss Smith and Miss Jones are just across the landing." I smiled warmly at her.
"Poor Lynley. So many strange events," Shakespeare mused, "Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?"
She replied, "Where a woman can do what she likes."
"And you, Sir Doctor and Miss Celeste," he turned to us, "How can people so young have eyes so old?"
I shrugged. "We do a lot of reading."
"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do," Shakespeare turned back to Martha. "And you, you look at them like you're surprised they exists. They're as much of a puzzle to you as they are to me."
"I think we should say good night." I left the room with Martha, leaving the Doctor with Shakespeare. We examined the very small room with its very small bed. Martha commented as the Doctor walked in, "It's not exactly five-star, is it?"
"Oh, it'll do. I've seen worse," he dismissed, "No doubt she's seen worse."
"Oi!" I exclaimed.
"I haven't even got a toothbrush." The Doctor lit up, patted his pockets, and pulled out a toothbrush. "Contains Venusian spearmint." He was going to pull out another one for me, but I pulled out my own.
"So, who's going where?" Martha asked again, "I mean, there's only one bed."
"We'll manage," the Doctor persuaded, "C'mon." He flopped onto the bed and leaned up against the headboard.
"So, magic and stuff," she started, "That's a surprise. It's a little bit "Harry Potter"." I smiled at the book.
"Wait till you read Book Seven. Oh, I cried," the Doctor gushed. I rolled my eyes.
"Is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic and all that, it's real?"
I scoffed, "'Course it isn't!"
"Well, how am I supposed to know?" She defended herself, "I've only just started believing in time travel. Give me a break."
"Looks like witchcraft, but it isn't. Can't be," He noticed Martha and I still standing. "Are you two gonna stand there all night?"
"I'll be sleeping on the floor," I volunteered. Before either of them could argue, I continued, "Nope! Martha just had a tiring day and so did you, Doctor."
Martha was still hesitant. "But don't you two want to sleep together?"
"Sleep together?" I echoed, "Why?" That's a bit weird.
"Well, aren't you two," she struggled for the right word, "Together?"
"Together?" The Doctor answered, "No, not really." Not really? What does that mean? Ok, so I've kissed him before in his past and future, but why am I wondering what he's talking about? It's not like we are dating or together or anything.
Right?
My trance was interrupted when Martha blew out the candle, making the dim room even darker. I sighed and laid down on the wooden floor.
See, I don't actually like sleeping, but I do like the feeling you get before you fall sleep, like the actual falling. That dizzy feeling you get before you start sleeping. The warmth and pillow and closing your eyes.
Bit hard to do that when you're on the floor. I gritted my teeth and made the best of it.
About an hour in, I still wasn't asleep or falling asleep. My back hurt like crazy so I went up to the bed to see if there was any room. Martha, completely on the edge, wasn't an option, so I climbed in next to the Doctor.
Almost immediately, he put his arms around my waist. I stiffened a bit at the sudden closeness, but seeing the Doctor sleeping soundly, comforted me a bit. My head leaned into him and his face was close to the side of mine.
I attempted to move, but the Doctor just snored softly and tightened his grip. Sighing softly, I closed my eyes.
A lady of stars and her star crossed lover,
Will only have a short time to discover.
An angel's touch will set her free,
And she will no longer have to flee.
The moment is close.
An alien with a large head and tentacles where its mouth should be spoke, "Like all tragic songs, it tells of a great story. This song is just beginning. There's no escaping it."
Startled, I woke up, jerking. The bed was empty and it was super bright. Squinting my eyes a bit, I got up and straightened myself up a bit. My hair was in loose ringlets and my clothes seemed fine, but I'd have to change if we stay longer.
My dream...I must be nervous. That's all. Besides, 'a touch of an angel'?
Voices were coming from down the hall so I left the room, in search of the Doctor and Martha. "Rage, rage against the dying of the light." They were talking to Shakespeare in his room.
He chortled, "I might use that."
"You can't. It's someone else's," I smiled sleepily before noticing Dolly, dead on the table. "What happened?"
"She died of fright," Martha explained, "But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright and they were both connected to you." J'accuse!
"You're accusing me?"
"No, but I saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches." I stared at her weirdly, but the Doctor just nodded.
"I have? When was that?" Shakespeare asked.
I whispered discreetly, "Not, not quite yet."
"Peter Streete spoke of witches."
"Who's Peter Streete?"
"Our builder," he said, "He sketched the plans to the Globe."
"The architect. Hold on. The architect! The architect!" The Doctor slammed his hand to the table. "The Globe! Come on!" He stared at me happily, pointing to himself. "See? Clever!" The Doctor grabbed my hand and pulled me along, leaving Shakespeare and Martha following.
In the Globe, the Doctor and I are pacing in the pit while Martha and Shakespeare wait onstage. "The columns there, right? 14 sides," the Doctor examined, "I've always wondered but I never asked... tell me, Will, why 14 sides?" I nodded thoughtfully.
"It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all," he answered, "Said it carried the sound well."
"Why does that ring a bell?" I trailed, "14............"
She tried, "There are 14 lines in a sonnet."
"So there is. Good point," I complimented, "Words and shapes following the same design."
"14 lines, 14 sides, 14 facets...Oh, my head."
"Tetradecagon... think, think, think!"
"Words, letters, numbers, lines!" We were yelling complete rubbish at each other at that point.
"This is just a theatre."
"Oh, but a theatre's magic, isn't it? You should know. Stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis a the right time..." The Doctor trailed to find the words.
"Oh, you can make men weep, or cry with joy, change them," I passionately continued, "You can change people's minds just with words in this place. And if you exaggerate that..."
"It's like you two are that police box," Martha observed, "Small wooden box with all that power inside."
"Been there, done that," I dismissed, "Never want to do that again. Tell you what, though. Peter Streete would know. Can I talk to him?"
Shakespeare shrugged, "You won't get an answer. A month after finishing this place... lost his mind."
"Why? What happened?"
"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling," he said sadly, "His mind was addled."
The Doctor asked, "Where is he now?"
"Bedlam." I winced. That was awful.
"What's Bedlam?" Martha inquired.
"Bethlem Hospital," Shakespeare said, "The madhouse."
"We're gonna go there. Right now. Come on." Again, the Doctor grabbed my hand possessively and pulled me with Martha following. Shakespeare stayed behind for a couple seconds to give his actors the script.
He caught up in the street. "So, tell me of Freedonia, where women can be doctors, writers, actors."
"This country's ruled by a woman," Martha pointed out.
"Ah, she's royal. That's God's business," Shakespeare smiled flirtatiously at Martha and me. "Though you two are royal beauties"
"Whoa, Nelly!" I wrenched my hand from the Doctor's to his dismay. "I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country."
"But Celeste, this is Town." I rolled my eyes at his failed seductiveness.
The Doctor, not liking where this was going, insisted, "Come on. We can all have a good flirt later."
"Is that a promise, Doctor?" Shakespeare asked cheekily, winking at Martha and me.
"Oh, 57 academics just punched the air," he seethed, "Now move!" The Doctor grabbed my hand again, holding it tightly.
In Bethlem hospital, the whole place was gritty and dirty. I wrinkled my nose at the mess and moans and screams.
The even dirtier jailor offered, "Does my lord, Doctor, wish some entertainment while he waits? I'd whip these madmen. They'll put on a good show for ya. Bandog and Bedlam!"
I gasped, "No, he doesn't!"
"Wait here, my lords, while I make him decent for the ladies." The jailor left, leaving me muttering profanities.
"So this is what you call a hospital, yeah?" Martha accused, "Where the patients are whipped to entertain the gentry? And you put your friend in here?"
"Oh, and it's all so different in Freedonia."
"But you're clever!" I insisted, "Do you honestly think this place is any good?" The Doctor scowled a bit.
"I've been mad. I've lost my mind," he gravely answered, "Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose."
"You lost your son," I recalled.
"My only boy. The Black Death took him. I wasn't even there."
Martha apologized, "I didn't know. I'm sorry."
"It made me question everything. The futility of this fleeting existence," Shakespeare muttered, "To be or not to be... oh, that's quite good."
"You should write that down," the Doctor advised.
"Hm, maybe not. A bit pretentious?" I stifled a laugh and snorted unattractively.
"This way, m'lord!" The Jailor beckoned. He unlocked the door, warning us, "They can be dangerous, m'lord. Don't know their own strength."
"I think it helps if you don't whip them!" I sarcastically replied for the Doctor, "Now get out!" He smiled proudly at me while I just smirked.
The jailer left and the Doctor approached Peter slowly. "Peter? Peter Streete?"
"He's the same as he was," he insisted, "You'll get nothing out of him." The Doctor laid a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Peter?"
His head jerked up and looked at us with glassy eyes. Peter's mouth moved as if he wanted to speak. I swallowed my fear and approached, placing my hand on his shoulder as well.
"Peter, I'm Celeste," I soothed, "Go into the past, one year ago. Let your mind go back, back to when everything was fine and shining."
The Doctor continued, "Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A winter's tale. Let go. Listen. That's it, just let go." We slightly push him down onto the cot. "Tell us the story, Peter. Tell us about the witches."
He told us his horrifying tale in third person. "Witches spoke to Peter. In the night, they whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design. Their design! The 14 walls, always 14. When the work was done," He laughed dryly, "They sapped poor Peter's wits."
"Where did Peter see the witches? Where in the city?" The Doctor crouched beside Peter. "Peter, tell me. You've got to tell me where were they?"
"All Hallows Street."
A dark presence entered the room. I stiffened when the crackly voice cackled, "Too many words." Turning around, I see a stereotypical witch, warts and all. "What the hell?" Martha exclaimed.
"Just one touch of the heart." She approached Peter and laid her hand on his chest. "No!" the Doctor and I cried as Peter screamed while dying.
"Witch! I'm seeing a witch!"
"No shit, Sherlock," I muttered. Shakespeare had no idea who I was talking about and I felt accomplished that I used a word the master of words never knew.
The witch turned to us. "Who would be next, hmm? Just one touch." She cackled again. "Oh, oh, I'll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals."
Martha turned to the door. "Let us out! Let us out!"
"That's not gonna work," the Doctor informed, "The whole building's shouting that."
"Who will die first, hmm?"
"Well, if you're looking for volunteers." The Doctor and I stepped closer to the witch. "No! Don't!"
"Doctor, can you stop her?" he hoped.
"No mortal has power over me." The witch smiled smugly.
"Oh, but there's a power in words. If I can find the right one, if I can just know you...," I trailed.
"None on Earth has knowledge of us."
He smiled cheekily. "Then it's a good thing we're here. Now think, think, think... Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy... ah, 14!"
"That's it! 14! The 14 stars of the Rexel planetary configuration!" I realized, "Creature, I name you-"
"Carrionite!" We shouted. She wailed and disappeared in a puff of smoke that smelled like mushrooms.
Why does everything evil smell like mushrooms in some way? Seriously worst smell in the world.
Martha was appalled. "What did you do?"
"We named her," I reminisced, "The power of a name. That's old magic."
"But there's no such thing as magic."
"Well, it's just a different sort of science. You lot, you chose mathematics," the Doctor rambled, "Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom. Carrionites use words instead."
Shakespeare spoke up, "Use them for what?"
I looked at the Doctor gravely and he returned the stare. "The end of the world."