Still shaken from the event just before, the group made their way back to Shakespeare's room. Raelle sits on one of the chairs opposite Shakespeare's desk, running a hand through her hair as she tried sorting through the many questions she had about the strange death. Dolly, the in-keeper, leaned against the door, as she spoke to the Doctor. "I got you a room, Sir Doctor. You, Miss Tyler and Miss Jones are just across the landing." Raelle sent her a grateful smile as she left.
"Poor Lynley." Shakespeare sat back in his chair, stress evident on his face. "So many strange events." He sighs, before eyeing Martha sat next to Raelle. "Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?" A questioning look on his face.
"Where a woman can do what she likes." Martha countered, crossing her arms.
Shakespeare observed Martha for a moment before his eyes flicked over to the Doctor. "And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have eyes so old?" Shakespeare remarked, tilting his head, as if trying to figure out the mystery of the Doctor.
"I do a lot of reading." The Doctor remarked plainly. Raelle shook her head to herself at his response. For a man alien to Earth, he sure had human sarcasm down.
"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do." Shakespeare laughs before pausing to look at Raelle. "And you?" He asks, causing Raelle to perk up. "You look at him like you worship the sun. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me." Shakespeare says, his voice soft with warning. "Beware though, the warmth of the sun bleaches your cheeks but can burn you if you dare to get too near."
Raelle stared at Shakespeare, his words ringing in her ears as they struck a wound deep in her heart. She steals a glance over at the Doctor, leaning against the fireplace, the man deep in thought as if he hadn't heard the conversation. Raelle sighed deeply, giving Shakespeare a worn smile. "I think we should say goodnight." Shakespeare nods his head at her as she heads to the door, leaving to find their room. The Doctor watches her go, a slight frown on his face as he takes in her change in mood. Martha flashes Shakespeare a smile before running off to join Raelle.
"I must work." Shakespeare announces to the Doctor. "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."
"All the world's a stage." The Doctor lightly recited from one of his plays.
Shakespeare looks at the Doctor, humming in thought. "Hmm. I might use that. Goodnight, Doctor."
"Nighty night, Shakespeare." The Doctor smirks, leaving to his room.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ
The Doctor enters the room to find Raelle lying on the bed, deep in thought about who knows what as she stares at the ceiling, with Martha holding a candle, peering out the window. "It's not exactly five star, is it?" Martha remarked, grimacing slightly, as she turned to face the Doctor.
The Doctor surveyed the room, closing the door behind him. "Oh, it'll do. I've seen worse."
"We haven't even got a toothbrush." Martha frowned, not wanting to think of the morning breath that would follow the next morning.
"Oh. Er." The Doctor pats down his blazer, producing two toothbrushes. He holds them both out to Martha who looks oddly impressed. "Contains Venusian spearmint." He smirked in satisfaction.
"So, who's going where? I mean, there's only one bed." Martha nervously laughed, as the Doctor made his way over to the side of the bed. Martha had only just met the Doctor and Raelle, so the thought of sharing a bed with two basically strangers seemed rather odd to her.
The Doctor shrugged, looking over to Raelle. "We'll manage. Come on." He lies down beside Raelle, leaning his head against the wall as Raelle continued to stare into the abyss, lost in thought. The Doctor frowned slightly to himself, before turning his attention back to Martha as she spoke.
Martha sighed, perching at the end of the bed. "So, magic and stuff. That's a surprise. It's all a little bit Harry Potter." She laughed.
The Doctor smirked at the mention of Harry Potter, lightly nudging Raelle as he spoke. "Wait till you read book seven. Oh, I cried." He placed a hand over his hearts, as he looked down to see her reaction, a faint smile traced on her lips. He frowned again.
"But is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic and all that, it's real?" Martha asked incredulously.
"Course it isn't!" The Doctor scoffed.
"Well, how am I supposed to know? I've only just started believing in time travel. Give me a break."
"Looks like witchcraft, but it isn't. Can't be." The Doctor remarked, before raising an eyebrow at Martha. "Are you going to perch there all night?" He asked Martha, causing her to stand up defiantly, rolling her eyes.
"Budge up a bit, then." She joked to Raelle, placing her candle on the side, as Raelle squished further into the Doctor. "Sorry, there's not much room. Us three here, same bed. Tongues will wag." She smirked.
The Doctor didn't reply, deep in thought on the witchcraft that seemed to lurk in London. "There's such a thing as psychic energy, but a human couldn't channel it like that." He spoke outloud to nobody in particular. "Not without a generator the size of Taunton and I think we'd have spotted that." He abruptly turned on his side, facing Raelle and Martha. Raelle turned her body to face him as Martha peered over to him, taking in his confused expression.
"No, there's something I'm missing, Elle. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it." He sighed slightly. "Rose'd know." The Doctor thought out loud, too late for the words to stop flying out of his mouth. Raelle froze beside him, eyes flicking to his, as the Doctor continued. "A friend of ours, Rose." He explained to Martha, as Raelle turned to lie on her back, going back to staring at the ceiling. Martha nodded, listening, noting the sadden expression in the Doctor and the grief stricken one on Raelle. "Right now, she'd say exactly the right thing. Still, can't be helped. You're a novice, never mind. I'll take you back home tomorrow."
"Great." Martha sighed, turning over to blow out the candle as darkness settled over the room. Martha turned on her side, facing the candle, as she quickly fell asleep. The Doctor stayed awake, deep in thought about his plan of action for tomorrow. He peered over to Raelle beside him, finding her as lost in thought as he was.
"Hey, you all okay?" He asked in his mind, voice soft.
"Yeah." He could hear the sigh evident in her words. "Just exhausted from today and feeling slightly homesick." The Doctor reached his arm over to her, pulling her towards his chest, an attempt to comfort her. Raelle leaned into the Doctor's touch, closing her eyes as she let Shakespeare's words float in her head. She didn't know why it effected her, getting all in her head. The unknown certainty between the Doctor and her ate away at her. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep, savouring the moment of being in the Doctor's arms.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ
The sound of a scream awoke the trio, as Raelle awoke disorientated as the Doctor sprinted out of bed to the source of the noise. Raelle and Martha shared a worried look before chasing after him. They sprinted from their room to Shakespeare's room, startling Shakespeare awake as they barged through the door. Martha and the Doctor moved to an unconscious Dolly on the floor as Raelle raced to the window. She gasps in shock, seeing a figure on a broomstick flying off over the town, the faint sounds of cackling echoing behind.
"Her heart gave out. She died of fright." The Doctor stated, eyebrows scrunched in concern.
"Doctor?" Raelle called from the window, her gaze not moving from what she had just seen.
The Doctor raced over to the window, looking out at the view. "What did you see?" He asked her.
She looked to the Doctor, a serious expression on her face as she said. "A witch." A surprised expression took place on the Doctor's face as they both went back staring at the view of the streets of London before them.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ
Raelle, Martha and the Doctor sat around Shakespeare's table as Shakespeare paced in worry. Raelle rubbed her eyes, the lack of sleeping catching up to her from the hectic night.
"Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey." Shakespeare spoke solemnly. "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 recited, tucking his hands underneath his chin.
Shakespeare pointed at the Doctor, taking in his words. "I might use that."
"You can't. It's someone else's."
"But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright, and they were both connected to you." Martha thought, eyeing Shakespeare as she spoke.
"You're accusing me?" Shakespeare asked, an offended tone in his voice.
Martha shook her head quickly. "No, but Raelle said she saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches."
Shakespeare frowned. "I have? When was that?"
"Not, not quite yet." The Doctor muttered to Martha.
"Peter Streete spoke of witches." Shakespeare thought out loud.
"Who's Peter Streete?" Raelle asked him.
"Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe."
"The architect. Hold on. The architect! The architect!" The Doctor shouted, realisation creeping up on him. He stood quickly, grabbing his coat as he spoke. "The Globe! Come on!" He ushered them all to follow as they made their way to the Globe. "The columns there, right?" The Doctor observed, turning in circles as he examined the theatre. "Fourteen sides. I've always wondered, but I never asked. Tell me, Will. Why fourteen sides?" He turned to Shakespeare who stood upon the stage with Raelle and Martha.
"It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all. Said it carried the sound well."
"Fourteen. Why does that ring a bell? Fourteen." The Doctor asked himself.
"There's fourteen lines in a sonnet." Martha offered.
"So there is. Good point. Words and shapes following the same design. Fourteen lines, fourteen sides, fourteen facets. Oh, my head. Tetradecagon. Think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!" He whined, slamming his head with his hand as he thought.
"Doctor!" Raelle gave him a look, the countless times she told him to stop abusing his forehead with slaps clearly weren't heard, or maybe he had smacked away those conversations as she watched him continuously do it.
"This is just a theatre." Shakespeare smirked, sending a wink Martha's way. Raelle chuckled softly at the blush creeping up on Martha's face.
"Oh yeah, 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. 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 beloved TARDIS." Raelle mused. "Small wooden box with all that power inside."
"Oh. Oh, Raelle Tyler, I like you. Have I ever told you that?" He grinned, causing Raelle to roll her eyes, smiling, as continued speaking. Raelle looked over to Martha, who waggled her eyebrows, her turn to mock her for blushing. "Tell you what, though. Peter Streete would know. Can I talk to him?" The Doctor asked Shakespeare.
Shakespeare shook his head. "You won't get an answer. A month after finishing this place, lost his mind."
Raelle frowned at the thought, looking over at Shakespeare. "Why? What happened?"
"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled."
"Where is he now?" Martha asked.
"Bethlem."
"What's Bedlam?" She asked again, not knowing the place.
"Bethlem Hospital. The madhouse."
"We're going to go there. Right now. Come on." Raelle and Martha started to make their way off the stage as the Doctor started to leave, trailing after him.
"Wait! I'm coming with you." Shakespeare called out. "I want to witness this at first hand." They made their way out into the streets of London, the Doctor charging ahead. "So, tell me of Freedonia, where women can be doctors, writers, actors." Shakespeare directed to Martha.
"This country's ruled by a woman." Martha reminded him.
"Ah, she's royal. That's God's business. Though, you are a royal beauty." Shakespeare flirted with Martha as Raelle sped up her walk to join the Doctor. She didn't feel like being a third-wheel. She intertwined her hand with the Doctor's as they walked ahead.
"What are you thinking?" She asked the Doctor, spying the troubled look he had on his face.
He sighed deeply as they continued walking. "The idea of witchcraft is folklore. It's the kind of thing that gets put in bedtime stories, not real life." He said, frustrated at the thought.
"But now it seems to be real and it's made you question what you know and believe to be real." Raelle finished his trail of thought for him, pulling them to a stop as she stared up at him. "Don't let it rule your mind. I know it's something new to you but it's new to all of us. Somehow we'll manage to make it through." She mused, giving him a smile. The Doctor's expression softened as he smiled back, squeezing her hand to say thank you. He looked back to see Shakespeare and Martha stopping to talk, or rather flirt.
"Come on. We can all have a good flirt later." He called out to them, rolling his eyes, causing Martha to give him a glare.
"Like you're one to talk." Martha called back, as Raelle and the Doctor shared a childish smile as they continued.
"Is that a promise, Doctor?" Shakespeare called out again after Martha, not being shy about his interest for Martha.
The Doctor resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. "Oh, fifty seven academics just punched the air. Now move!"
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ
They arrive at Bethlehem Hospital, the sounds of wailing and clanking of chains disturbing Raelle as she entered. She kept a tight grip on the Doctor's hand for comfort as they make their way into the Hospital.
"Does my Lord Doctor wish some entertainment while he waits?" The Keeper asked the Doctor as they followed him. "I'd whip these madmen. They'll put on a good show for you. Mad dog in Bedlam." Raelle grimaced at the thought.
"No, I don't!" The Doctor replied, a disgusted tone at the thought.
"Well, wait here, my lords, while I make him decent for the ladies." The Keeper of the Hospital walks on down the corridor.
"So this is what you call a hospital, yeah?" Martha takes in the sight before her, a stark comparison to the one she works in. "Where the patients are whipped to entertain the gentry? And you put your friend in here?" Martha directs at Shakespeare, repulsed at the thought.
"Oh, it's all so different in Freedonia." Shakespeare countered, sarcasm filling his voice.
Raelle turned to face him, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. "But you're clever." She waved her hands sarcastically in the arm, referring to the repulsing place around them. "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.
"You lost your son." The Doctor answered for him, a serious expression on his face.
Shakespeare stared at him as he spoke. "My only boy. The Black Death took him. I wasn't even there."
Raelle frowned, not being able to imagine the death of your own son, although she feels like she knows what the death of a loved one might feel like. She shakes Rose from her mind. "I didn't know. I'm sorry." She apologised sincerely.
"It made me question everything." Shakespeare looked over to her. "The futility of this fleeting existence. To be or not to be." He paused, thinking of the words he had just said. "Oh, that's quite good." He remarks.
"You should write that down." The Doctor encouraged him as Martha nodded, a knowing smile on her face.
"Maybe not. A bit pretentious?"
"This way, my lord!" The Keeper summoned them as they made their way into Streete's cell. A hunched figure in rags has his back to them as they enter. "They can be dangerous, my lord. Don't know their own strength."
"I think it helps if you don't whip them. Now get out!" The Doctor scolded the Keeper as he left. "Peter? Peter Streete?"
"He's the same as he was. You'll get nothing out of him." Shakespeare informed the Doctor.
"Peter?" Raelle tried, pressing a comforting hand to his shoulder. As she pressed her hand against him, Peter raises his head staring straight at Raelle. Raelle holds his intent stare, trying her best not to jump back.
The Doctor gently moves beside her, putting his fingers on Peter's temples, ready to delve into his mind. "Peter, I'm the Doctor. Go into the past. One year ago. Let your mind go back. Back to when everything was fine and shining. Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A Winter's Tale. Let go. That's it. That's it, just let go. Tell me the story, Peter. Tell me about the witches."
"Witches spoke to Peter." Peter told them, moving to lie on his side as he recalled the events, twitching in fright. "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? Where in the city? Peter, tell me. You've got to tell me where were they?" The Doctor pushed, needing the answers.
"All Hallows Street."
"Too many words." A voice echoed beside Raelle as she looked to see a witch beside her. The Doctor grabbed her hand, pulling her up to stand near the exit, protectively standing in front of her.
"What the hell?" Martha gasped in shock at the sight, backing away slightly.
"Just one touch of the heart." The witch reached down to Peter's heart, a cruel smile on her face.
"No!" Raelle shouted, moving to stop her as the Doctor held her back. She struggled against his strong grip as she watched the witch put her hand on Peter's chest, causing his heart to stop. The light from his eyes dimmed as he died. The Doctor cried out as he watched it happen, holding Raelle back from causing any harm to herself.
"Witch! I'm seeing a witch!" Shakespeare pointed to the witch before them in shock, a shaky hand covering his mouth.
"Now, who would be next, hmm?" She eyed the group, her eyes resting on the Doctor and Raelle. "Just one touch. Oh, oh, I'll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals."
Martha moved to the cell's door, screaming for the keeper. "Let us out! Let us out!"
"That's not going to work." The Doctor told her, not taking his eyes of the witch before him, while still holding onto Raelle. "The whole building's shouting that."
"Who will die first, hmm?" She looked between Raelle and the Doctor.
"Well, if you're looking for volunteers." The Doctor offered, as Raelle's head shot up to see his serious expression. Oh no he doesn't.
"No! Don't!" Raelle argued, holding his arm back as he advanced towards the witch. It was useless, as the Doctor's strong force meant Raelle was dragged forward with him as she stood beside him, not letting go of his arm.
"Doctor, can you stop her?" Shakespeare muttered, nervously watching the scene unfold.
The witch glared in Shakespeare's direction. "No mortal has power over me."
"Oh, but there's a power in words. If I can find the right one. If I can just know you." The Doctor threatened.
"None on Earth has knowledge of us."
"Then it's a good thing I'm here." The witch extended her finger, which the Doctor and Raelle leaned away from. "Now think, think, think. Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy. Ah! Fourteen! That's it! Fourteen!" He bellowed. "The fourteen stars of the Rexel planetary configuration! Creature, I name you Carrionite!" The second those words left his lips, the witch screamed, being engulfed in a flash of light. The Doctor held Raelle back as they watched the witch disappear.
"What did you do?" Martha asked, gobsmacked from what she had just witnessed.
"I named her. The power of a name. That's old magic."
"But there's no such thing as magic." Martha scoffed.
"Well, it's just a different sort of science. 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 inquired.
The Doctor paused, looking back at the place where the witch stood. "The end of the world."
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ
I'm back (kind off)! I found this in my drafts from a year ago and I've had a lot of messages about continuing this story!
Firstly, the amount of love Lost Soul and Restored has is mind boggling to me so thank you so so much! I'm so happy people are enjoying this story, with Doctor Who holding such a special place in my heart.
I do want to try and finish this story, but I don't know how regular the uploads will be. I'll get back to writing more chapters for everyone so please bear with me! If anyone has any suggestions or anything they want to say about the story, please let me know (I would love to hear!).