Title: Barbecue Sauce*
Author: reina_isabella
Gift for: scap3goat
Rating: 15 / pg-13
Pairings/Characters: Jack/Ianto, with some Owen, Tosh & Suzie
Word count: 700
Summary: Jack is feeling a mite peckish.
Spoilers: Nothing beyond the obvious.
Author's Notes: Written for the twdw_ficathon as a gift for scap3goat, who requested: a secret Jack Harkness harbours (bonus for Jack's pregnancy), some kind of voyeurism, and the clicking noise of a keyboard. One of 3 totally unconnected fics that came from that; gift-wise, it's the paper hat in the Christmas crack!er. Set before "Everything Changes" ... and admittedly a bit AU-y; or messes with the timeline a little, anyhow. It is crack!: just go with it. I owe a tip of the hat to Grant Naylor, and my firstborn child to Kimchi the betagoddess (good thing there's never going to be one).

* For reasons that are unlikely to be clear to anyone but order_of_chaos



BARBECUE SAUCE

I need peanut butter, Jack thought.

Now.

He was halfway to the kitchen before he remembered that they didn't have any peanut butter; he didn't like peanut butter; and he was in fact allergic to peanut butter. He headed back to his office.

Twenty minutes later he was in the kitchen tucking into a bowl of tinned squidlike something topped with frozen strawberries and garnished with brown sauce, when Suzie wandered in for a cup of tea.

"Eugh," she sniffed. "What'd you call that, then?"

Spoon poised over the bowl, Jack pondered the brownish-reddish mess in front of him.

"Lunch?"

***

The thing that may or may not have been there blipped briefly across the screen. Owen pointed.

"There! Did you see it?"

Tosh squinted over his shoulder. "Nope."

"Nothing?"

"I didn't see anything. Are you sure it's there?"

"Not at all."

"Then how do you know what - "

"I don't, obviously."

Jack's head appeared over Owen’s other shoulder. "What are we looking at?" he asked, peering at the screen.

"Nothing," Tosh told him.

"Or something," Owen added.

The thing that may or may not have been there blipped across the screen.

"Okay." Jack regarded them. "Is anybody else hungry?"

***

“You smell different.”

“No need for pickup lines, Ianto, you’ve already got me in bed.”

“Stop it - no, not that, you can keep doing that.”

“Oh, can I?”

“Mmmm … and anyway, isn’t the line meant to be ‘You smell good?’ I didn’t say good, I said different. That’s a terrible pickup.”

“So, bad, then?”

“Well … okay, no, not bad. Just … “

“Different?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

“What, you think I don’t know how you smell? Or taste – “

“Yeah, do that again.”

“ – or what happens when I touch you there …”

“For fuck’s sake - Ianto!”

“See? I know what I’m talking about.”

***

Jack glanced over his shoulder; aside from the pterodactyl, the Hub was deserted. He turned back to the computer and tapped impatiently at the keys. “Come on, come on,” he muttered, as the status bar filled with excruciating slowness. Sighing, he stalked off to the kitchen.

By the time he returned - clutching a packet of bacon-flavoured crisps and a tub of clotted cream - the alien medical database had finished loading. He dipped a crisp in the clotted cream and scrolled through the entries.

And stopped with the crisp halfway to his mouth.

“Oh, shit,” he said to the empty Hub.

***

“Oy! Who’s been messing about with my computer, then?”

Tosh and Suzie exchanged pained looks. “Nobody’s touched your computer, Owen,” Suzie told him.

“Oh yeah? Then why’s the med database open?”

“What are we yelling about now?” Jack asked.

Tosh nodded towards the sandwich in his hand. “What’s that?”

“What, this? Just a … fried egg, chili sauce and chutney sandwich.” There was a chorus of chundering noises from the team. “What? I was hungry!”

“Didn’t you just have elevenses?” Suzie asked innocently.

“So this is half-elevenses.”

Suzie eyed the open button at the waistband of his trousers sceptically. “Okay, Captain.”

***

“Is it mine?” Ianto asked.

“No, it … doesn’t work like that.”

“Whose is it, then?”

“You don’t know them.”

“Them?”

“Yeah, the thing is, the contractions started an hour ago – “

“Contractions?” He reached for the edge of the desk.

“ -- and I’ve called the mothers.”

Ianto shook his head. “I thought you’d just put on a few pounds …”

Jack sighed. “Look, could you just keep everyone out of the trauma room for a few hours?” Ianto nodded weakly as Tosh stuck her head into the office.

“Jack? There are a couple of … aliens here to see you.”

***

“Got it!”

Suzie squinted at Owen’s monitor as the trauma room came up on the screen. From a few paces away Tosh called to them.

“Guys? It’s just a couple of aliens; we shouldn’t be – “

“You’re kidding!” Suzie shrieked. Tosh darted closer to peer over Owen’s shoulder.

“What? What is it?”

“So, wait – d’you think that’s what’s been coming up on the sensors?” Owen asked.

“Unregistered life form, makes sense,” Tosh said.

Owen snorted. “Explains the snacking, as well.” He looked about. “Where’s Ianto got to, then?”

The Welshman appeared clutching a small rectangular box.

“Cigar, anyone?” he asked.

Title: Ship (Shakespeare gave me a hand with the title, but the rest is all my own work.*)
Fandom(s): Doctor Who, Blackadder
Pairings: Four/Rum, Leela/Percy (with implied Four/Rum/Edmund & Leela/Percy/Baldrick)
Rating: R (or, rather, Arrrrrrrrrrgh!)
Spoilers: A bit for Potato (BA seas. 2)
Summary: The Doctor and Leela drop in on Lord Blackadder during a particularly trying sea-voyage.
Notes: Happy F**ked-Up February, everyone! The Black Guardian has made me his (willing) plaything; any problems, take them up with him ... if you think that's a wise idea.
* And no, I promise, no more Shakespeare. But if you know who the quote is from, I shall give you a cookie.
X-posted to dw_slash, in honor of FUF.

(Oh, and "galligaskin" is just a fancy word for "man-tights." But it sounds funny, doesn't it?)


SHIP

"Let me get this straight, Baldrick, because I do want to be absolutely square before I have you stripped naked and your less-savoury bits dangled overboard like chum into the shark-infested waters."

"Yes, my lord."

"You say that there is a monster on this ship."

"Yes, my lord."

"Yet you have not, in point of fact, actually seen this monster."

"No, my lord, but I did 'ear it. Down in the 'old."

"Aha. You heard it in the hold ... and what, Baldrick, exactly what did this monster that you heard in the hold sound like, exactly?"

"Well ... a bit like the singing of the noseless mermaids of Fiji."

"I see. Only a bit?"

"Yeah. All wooshy, like, and squeally, but less mermaidy and more monstery."

Edmund sighed through flared nostrils. "Baldrick," he said to the small tatty man standing stoop-shouldered before him, "while I have no doubt as to your fluency in the various forms and nuances of the squeal - it being, of course, your native tongue - I cannot but assume that in this particular instance what you have once again taken for a sea-monster is in actual fact just another giant filthy rat. Therefore I want you to take this pointy stick, go down into the hold, find the rat, and convince it to come upstairs and captain this bloody ship. And if it refuses, ask it if it wants your job instead. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Very good." Clutching his stick, Baldrick shuffled out of the cabin. "And under no circumstances are you to return above deck until at least one of you is dead!" Edmund called as the cabin door swung shut behind him.

Edmund surveyed the pile of maps and charts scattered across the thick wooden table in front of him, their rolled edges held flat by candlesticks, inkpots, a half-knawed lump of hard tack, and a short-handled knife stuck tip-down into the wood. Ink lines crossed and re-crossed the topmost chart, most beginning and ending at random points and trailing off into fanciful swirls or rude doodles. The words "Percy rogers barnacles!" were scrawled across one corner, and "bugger bugger bugger" was repeated in a variety of different scripts across the parchment. Edmund took up a compass and pen and bent to the chart, muttering to himself. After several serious minutes of intense work and concentration, he dipped the pen in an inkwell, briefly consulted the compass once more, and finally wrote "Sod it all!" in a particularly lush hand across the centre of the chart.

From outside the closed cabin door a short scuffle came to his ears, followed by a groan and a dull thud as of a dead weight hitting the deck. That'll be Baldrick hurting himself, Edmund thought happily, putting aside the pen; or else Rum has gotten himself tangled in the shrimping nets again ... Both prospects afforded him equal satisfaction; just as he was preparing to sit back and not rush to the aid of either man, however, the door suddenly flew open.

The woman in the doorway was tall and bronzed and wearing so very little in the way of actual clothing that Edmund's eyebrows crawled to the top of his head and disappeared into his hairline in an instant. He stumbled to his feet, attempting a deep, gallant bow that resulted only in a nasty crack to his forehead on the edge of the table, and the inkwell being upset with a splash onto his shoes.

"Erm," he stuttered.

"Is that your monkey?" the woman asked, gesturing over her shoulder. Edmund tore his eyes from her magnificent bosom long enough to glance at the heap of Baldrick on the floor of the passageway outside.

"Oh, him - no, that's just the ship's cat." Surreptitiously wiping his ink-covered boot-tip against the back of his hose, he stepped around the table and took her hand. "Madam," he smarmed, "although your presence on this humble vessel is unexplained, let me assure you that it is most welcome. I am Lord Edmund Blackadder." He attempted a kiss on the hand that landed somewhere above and to the left of her wristbone. "And may I be so bold as to enquire after your name, my lady?"

The woman snatched her hand away and regarded him with narrowed eyes. "I am Leela, of the Sevateem."

"Excellent, excellent. And you're some sort of pirate, are you?"

"Pirate? What is that? I am here with the Doctor - "

Edmund's face fell like a nun on a patch of ice. "Doctor?"

"Hello!" An astonishingly tall man ducked into the cabin and regarded Edmund with a slightly manic smile. Edmund goggled up at him, pop-eyed.

"Captain?"

"Oh, are you?" asked the man amiably, extending a hand. "Doctor."

"What?"

"I'm the Doctor, Captain."

"Oh, now you're a doctor as well as a captain, are you?"

Leela and the Doctor exchanged glances. She reached slowly for the knife at her belt as he turned back to Edmund. "Well, I've always been the Doctor, you see," he explained slowly. Edmund sniffed.

"Yes, you'd have to be some sort of medical magician to grow your legs back in such a short time - sea air and all, I suppose?"

The Doctor clapped a hand on Edmund's shoulder. "I think perhaps we've gotten off on the wrong foot."

Edmund glared down his nose at the hand on his shoulder, pinched the Doctor's sleeve between thumb and forefinger, and tossed his arm aside. "Not too difficult, is it, that? Considering that until only just now you didn't have feet," he muttered.

"Edmund!" A willowy young man skidded full-out down the passageway, tripped over Baldrick's prone form, and flopped face-first into the cabin at their feet. "Ooooh-agh," he whimpered, feebly waggling a lace-trimmed handkerchief about his head. Leela's eyes lit up as she hastily reached to pull him to his feet. "Oh, thank you, very much," he said distractedly, brushing off his white linen shirt without a glance in her direction. Finally settled, he turned to Blackadder.

"Edmund! The most extraordinary thing has happened! A tremendous blue crate has simply appeared - poof! - in the ship's hold; and do you know, I think there were people in it!"

Blackadder rolled his eyes extravagantly. "Thank you, Percy, another tip-top observation made in a timely and appropriate fashion. And on a totally unrelated topic, may I introduce to you Leela of the ... Something ... "

"The Sevateem." Leela stepped close to Percy. "Hello," she purred. Percy, noticing her at last, smiled back coquettishly.

"Oh, my - enchanté ... " he simpered, batting his eyes.

"Put it away, Percy," Edmund hissed, and indicated the Doctor. "And this would appear to be - "

"My word, Edmund!" Percy stared at the Doctor and whispered loudly to Blackadder from behind his handkerchief. "This fellow looks astonishingly like the Captain, did you notice?" He studied the Doctor carefully. "Although there's something a bit different about him."

"You don't say."

"Yes, Edmund, there definitely is! I can't quite put my finger on it, though ... " Percy circled the Doctor, gazing up at him from all angles. "Aha! I have it!" he cried, looking from the Doctor back to Edmund. "He's gotten a new scarf!"

***

The ship creaked pleasantly about him as the Doctor strolled down the passageway, opening cupboards and peering into empty cabins as he went. He had wandered off to explore when Edmund's incessant carping had become too irritating to endure; the man's shrill whine faded into the distance now as the Doctor ambled away, reflecting that - with any luck - Leela would find it necessary to silence him soon, one way or another. She can be handy to have around, the Doctor admitted to himself, throwing open a particularly enticing iron-studded door and glancing into the lamp-lit room beyond.

"Well hello there," he said, stepping into the room with a fetching grin.

"Hello there ye'self," came a growl out of the dimness. "And who might ye be, miladdy?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"Didn't know we had one! But be welcome to my cabin, Doctor. I am the captain of this vessel, called to some Redbeard Rum, and to others, Redbeard Rum."

The Doctor moved into the light, regarding Rum with interest, and offered his hand. "A true pleasure to meet you, Captain Rum."

Rum caught the Doctor's hand suddenly in both of his own and inspected it in the lamplight. "Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!" he crowed extravagantly, pulling the Doctor to his knees before him. "You have a woman's hand, milord!"

"Do I?"

"Aye! I'll wager this hand never traced the downy-soft cleft of a cabin boy's buttocks as the other hand fended off a battalion of blood-crazed turbot with naught but a candle-snuffer and a bit of lemon peel!"

"Turbot? Well, no ... and I don't think Harry would much have fancied being called a cabin boy - "

Suddenly pulling him closer, Rum buried his fingers in the Doctor's brown curls. "And you have a woman's hair!" he cried ecstatically.

"Mmmmm?" the Doctor mmmmm'd, distracted by the sudden closeness.

"Aye, you do! I'll wager this hair was never pulled clear out by the roots as you were shoved across a ship's railing and taken from behind by a pair of twin pirates in drag off the coast of Siam!" The Doctor was momentarily silenced by this intriguing prospect and the arresting possibilities it suddenly brought to mind. The Captain's eyes twinkled with a familiar mad light as his hand suddenly clamped down on the Doctor's thigh.

"Ooooooooh!" Rum cried, his face inches now from the Doctor's. "You have a woman's thighs, milord!" A second hand closed on his other thigh, and he squirmed happily as Rum's voice dropped to a low growl. "I'll wager these thighs were never wrapped around a panting heap of man-flesh, squeezing tight as you rode like a dolphin o'er the salty waves!"

"Ah!" the Doctor grinned. "Actually, there you'd be wrong. There was one time - "

"AND!" the Captain roared, "you have a woman's lips! I'll wager they - " He was cut off as the Doctor leaned in suddenly to kiss him, hard. "I take it back," Rum panted when they finally parted. "You have a man's lips indeed, milord! It seems to me, in fact, that they be lips I've known before."

"Do you know, I was thinking the same thing? I didn't notice it at first. I suppose I was rather distracted by your hair - do you know, I've always wanted to be ginger? - not to mention by your truly magnificent beard ... my word, you could lose a wombat in it!" the Doctor exclaimed, running his hand through the Captain's extravagant red whiskers.

"I would have said a badger, myself. And have we never met, then, Doctor?" Rum's hands continued kneading his thighs, creeping upwards. The Doctor shifted slightly and surreptitiously spread his knees a bit wider.

"I don't believe we have. It's curious, though, isn't it? We do share a certain resemblance."

"Do we? I've never looked in a glass, myself, for fear of falling in love with my own reflection."

"I can rather see why ... but really, it's remarkable. Aside from the obvious difference, of course, you being ginger and all."

"And you having legs."

"Haven't you any legs, then?"

"Nay. Not any more."

"Oh. Pity, that."

"Nay, not really. They just got in the way." The Captain's hands had continued to inch upwards as he spoke; now they found the Doctor's cock and stroked it through his tweed trousers. "If you know my meaning." The Doctor mmmmm'd again and reached out a finger to tickle the stuffed parrot stitched to Rum's shoulder.

"Lovely bird," he murmured.

"My good luck charm. Showed me the way to fresh water when I was stranded for a fortnight on the Isle of Wight, snatched me bodily from the jaws of a mighty sea-serpent, and then fed a crew of ten men, lightly braised in a white wine-and-lemon sauce."

"I can see why you'd keep it about. Ahem. And speaking of sea-serpents ... " The Doctor's hand slid down Rum's red velvet doublet and came to rest firmly on the rather obvious bulge in his hose. "You know, perhaps I'd better explore exactly what you mean, about the benefits of your leglessness." Deftly he untied the points lacing Rum's galligaskin to his doublet and reached inside. The Captain nodded earnestly and grabbed again at the Doctor's hair.

"We both be explorers, aye," he growled, pulling the Doctor's head down to his cock. "Then let us explore!"

The Doctor mmmmm'd.

***

The foc'sle was deserted. The quarterdeck was vacant. The orlop was tenantless. Edmund stalked about the ship, muttering to himself and slamming whatever doors he could find in the most savage way possible.

The poop deck was unpeopled. The galley was empty.

He peered about ill-humouredly, barked his shin on a large iron pot in an abortive attempt to kick it over, spontaneously invented a new multi-syllable curse word, and tripped over Baldrick on his way out of the galley.

"Baldrick, you're as graceful as a rhinoceros in heat and as welcome as a case of weeping buboes. Where the hell do you think you're going?" he added, as Baldrick attempted to sneak unobtrusively away in what could only be described as a parody of unobtrusive sneakiness.

"Oh, hello, my lord. Didn't see you down there. 'Ere, let me help you up - "

"Don't touch me, Baldrick, I know too well where that hand's been. What are you up to, sneaking about the kitchens like that? And what have you got in those jugs?" Picking himself up, Edmund glanced at the two stoneware flasks clutched under Baldrick's arm.

"Oh, these? Just some things the lady and the Captain asked me to fetch for them."

"So everybody's still on board, then, are they? I was under the impression that they'd all gone off for a quick paddle and splash around the Antipodes before supper."

"Oh, no, my lord. Last I saw, Percy was showing the lady 'round the gun deck. She was very interested in the cannons. And the Doctor and Rum are in the Captain's quarters."

"Bastards - they must have heard me knocking! Right, let's go." Edmund kicked Baldrick through the galley door, into the companionway and towards the stairs. Halfway up to the gun deck, they heard Percy's maniacal giggling and and a low feline growl from Leela. A pair of linen breeches came sailing down the stairs towards them.

The gun deck was strewn with what little clothing Leela had been wearing to begin with. Percy's feet were just visible, naked and sticking out from behind the largest of the ship's cannons; as Edmund strode towards it, Leela's head suddenly appeared over the feet, followed by her magnificent bosom. Edmund faltered. Her arm flashed out briefly and a knife suddenly buried itself in the wooden beam beside his head.

Edmund stopped.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting your tour of the vessel's armaments?" he squeaked.

"You are," Leela growled. "Where's the rum?"

"Right here, my lady!" Baldrick piped up from behind Edmund.

Percy's voice floated out to them. "Oh, excellent, I could just fancy a drink!" Blackadder and Baldrick stared open-mouthed as Leela glanced down at Percy's feet and sucked savagely at one of his toes. Edmund chanced a tiny step forward.

She looked up suddenly. "Get out!" she commanded sternly.

"Um - " Edmund began.

"OUT!"

"Yes."

"Leave the rum!"

"Yes. Of course. Leave the rum and let's go, Baldrick." Edmund nudged him and edged backwards towards the stairs, his eyes still locked on her breasts.

"The monkey can stay."

"What?"

"Oh, cheers, thanks." Baldrick trotted towards them, stopped, and returned to Edmund. "Would you mind bringing this 'round the Captain's cabin?" he asked, handing one of the bottles to the slack-jawed Blackadder. "Only they asked for it ages ago. Ta!" With a cheerful wave, Baldrick skipped off to the others. Edmund stood for a moment, gibbering quietly to himself.

A second knife suddenly joined the first in the beam, inches closer to his head.

Edmund ran for the stairs.

***

"Look, I know you're in there, it's no use pretending you're not, I'm coming in and you can't stop me!" Blackadder threw open the iron-studded door and squinted into the lamp-lit cabin.

"Ah," he said, helpfully.

The Captain reclined on a bunk littered with bits of clothing; a well-dressed cuddly toy bear sporting a jaunty eyepatch; and a long, thin silver object that seemed to be emitting a strange blue light. Above him - and apparently buried balls-deep in him - the Doctor bent to chew on his beard, while Rum arrrgh'd ecstatically. Both men were naked save for approximately three fathoms of striped scarf wrapped about them; Edmund could only just see the beak of the Captain's parrot protruding from between the coils of wool. Catching sight of Edmund, the Captain nudged the Doctor and nodded towards the doorway. Two identical pairs of eyes stared at Blackadder with four identical mad gleams as two identical mischievous grins spread slowly across two identical faces. Edmund raised an eyebrow and held out the bottle.

"I've brought your rum," he said evenly.

"Rum? No! I asked the little one for a bottle of the finest squid oil!" the Captain exclaimed. Edmund's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Squid oil? What do you want bloody squid oil for?"

The Doctor grinned more broadly still, his teeth flashing white in the lamplight. "Makes an excellent natural lubricant," he explained.

"Right. I'm off." Edmund turned to the door.

"Aye, that would probably be best," the Captain growled from behind him. "Find a nice lonely spot in one of the rowboats and weep yourself to sleep. Again," he added, as Edmund whirled around to glare at him with narrowed eyes.

"How did you know - "

"Or," Rum continued, "you could just ... "

"... stay here?" the Doctor finished suggestively. "It is a very long scarf, after all."

"Aye, it is - and there's always room up the old sea dog."

Edmund considered for a moment. He sighed.

He stepped into the room and uncorked the bottle of rum. "Oh, what the hell. Why not?"

The Doctor beamed at him. "Good lad!"

"Arrrrrgh!" the Captain agreed heartily, as Edmund crossed the cabin towards them, untying his shirtlaces.

"Arrrrrgh, indeed," he said, saluting them with the bottle and taking a tremendous swig of rum. His face immediately turned seven shades of yellow in rapid succession.

"Brilliant! Just bloody brilliant!" Edmund spat. "It figures, doesn't it?"

"What does?" the Doctor asked solicitously.

"That cretin Baldrick finally got something right!" Edmund muttered, holding the bottle out to him. "It's your bloody squid oil!"

Fic Name: The Comedie of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: G
Prompt: #49 - History
Claim: Ten/Tardis
Spoilers: Act 1 of Hamlet. No, really.
Written for the doctorwho_100 challenge. (My chart is here.) Total lunacy, I'm afraid; but as I'm (almost) as much of a fangirl for the Bard as I am for the Doctor, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened ...

***

Barbara -

Would you or some of the other folks at the Shakes. Centre have a look at this and let us know what you think? It's a copy of something we just found in the vaults. The paper & ink have been positively dated to 1598, and the handwriting matches that of the established manuscripts in the collection. It was found with an attached note - also positively dated to 1599, but apparently written in what appears to be blue biro - reading: "Dear Will - Love the new play (and am terribly flattered to have had some small hand in it); but I feel it lacks a certain gravitas. Maybe it's not meant to be a comedy after all? Just a thought ... Oh, and remind me to tell you a fantastic ghost story I heard next time I stop by. Ta! - D. "

It's got the entire staff here in a bit of a state.

See you at the conference in September.
Best,
Dennis

THE COMEDIE OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK

Act 1, Scene I. Elsinore. A platform before the castle.
Francisco at his post. Enter to him Bernado

BERNARDO
'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.

FRANCISCO
For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold,
And I am sick at heart.

BERNARDO
Have you had quiet guard?

FRANCISCO
Not a mouse stirring.

BERNARDO
Well, good night.
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

FRANCISCO
I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who's there?

Enter Horatio and Marcellus

HORATIO
Friends to this ground.

FRANCISCO
Give you good night.

MARCELLUS
O, farewell, honest soldier.

Exit Francisco

BERNARDO
Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.

MARCELLUS
What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?

BERNARDO
I have seen nothing.

MARCELLUS
Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy,
And will not let belief take hold of him
Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:
Therefore I have entreated him along
With us to watch the minutes of this night;
That if again this apparition come,
He may approve our eyes and speak to it.

HORATIO
Well, sit we down,
And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.

BERNARDO
Last night of all,
When yond same star that's westward from the pole
Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
The bell then beating one,--

Enter TARDIS

MARCELLUS
Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!

BERNARDO
In the same figure, like an azure cabinet.

MARCELLUS
Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.

BERNARDO
Looks it not like a casket? mark it, Horatio.

HORATIO
Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.

BERNARDO
It would be spoke to.

MARCELLUS
Question it, Horatio.

HORATIO
What art thou that usurp'st this time of night,
Together with that blue and wooden form
Which hovers there twixt sky and earth
Held up by unseen hand? by heaven I charge thee, speak!

MARCELLUS
It is offended.

BERNARDO
See, it stalks away!

HORATIO
Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!

Exit TARDIS

MARCELLUS
'Tis gone, and will not answer.

BERNARDO
How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale:
Is not this something more than fantasy?
What think you on't?

HORATIO
Before my God, I might not this believe
Without the sensible and true avouch
Of mine own eyes.

MARCELLUS
Is it not like a credenza made of wood?

HORATIO
As thou art to thyself:
And yet it is not in my ken
That such appointments of furnishing
Should, wailing music ne'er heard by ears of men,
Be poiséd thus upon the icy air.
'Tis strange.

MARCELLUS
Thus twice before, and just at this dead hour,
With shriekings strange hath it flown by our watch.

HORATIO
In what particular thought to work I know not;
But in the gross and scope of my opinion,
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.

BERNARDO
I think it be no other but e'en so:
Well may it sort that this portentous figure
Hovers through our watch; so unlike any thing
That is and has been seen beneath these skies.

HORATIO
A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again!

Re-enter TARDIS

I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion!
If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
Speak to me:
If there be any good thing to be done,
That may to thee do ease and grace to me,
Speak to me:

Cock crows

If thou art privy to any ill fate,
Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, O, speak!
Speak of it: stay, and speak! Stop it, Marcellus.

MARCELLUS
Shall I strike at it with my sword?

HORATIO
Do, if it will not stand.

BERNARDO
'Tis here!

HORATIO
'Tis here!

MARCELLUS
'Tis gone!

Exit TARDIS

We do it wrong, being so majestical,
To offer it the show of violence;
For it is, as the air, invulnerable,
And our vain blows malicious mockery.

BERNARDO
It was about to land to ground, when the cock crew.

HORATIO
But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill:
Break we our watch up; and by my advice,
Let us impart what we have seen to-night
Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?

MARCELLUS
Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know
Where we shall find him most conveniently.

Exeunt

***

Act 1, SCENE IV. The platform.
Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus

HAMLET
The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.

HORATIO
It is a nipping and an eager air.

HAMLET
What hour now?

HORATIO
I think it lacks of twelve.

HAMLET
No, it is struck.

HORATIO
Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the season
Wherein the apparition was wont to appear.
Look, my lord, it comes!

Enter TARDIS

HAMLET
Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
Thou comest in such a questionable shape
That I will speak to thee: I'll bid thee land,
Casket, cabinet, box: O, answer me!
Let me not burst in ignorance; but see
Where this cerulean spectre touches to the ground!
Its portals burst open; and the receptacle
Disgorges a figure upon the night. What may this mean,
That thou, illusion, clad in mantle brown
Step thus forth upon these battlements
And fixing me with steady gaze, with cockéd brow,
Seems't to find amusement in this scene.
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?

Doctor beckons Hamlet

HORATIO
He beckons you to go away with him,
As if he some impartment did desire
To you alone.

MARCELLUS
Look, with what courteous action
He waves you to a more removed ground:
But do not go with him.

HAMLET
He will not speak; then I will follow him.

HORATIO
Do not, my lord.

HAMLET
Why, what should be the fear?
He waves me forth again: I'll follow him.

HORATIO
What if he tempt you toward the flood, my lord,
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff
That beetles o'er his base into the sea,
And there assume some other horrible form,
Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason
And draw you into madness?

DOCTOR
What do you takes't me for? Hamlet, gets't thou cracking.

HAMLET
He waves me still.
Go on; I'll follow thee.

MARCELLUS
You shall not go, my lord.

HAMLET
Hold off your hands.

HORATIO
Be ruled; you shall not go.

HAMLET
My fate cries out; still am I call'd.
Unhand me, gentlemen.
By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!
I say, away! Go on; I'll follow thee.

Exeunt Doctor and Hamlet

HORATIO
He waxes desperate with imagination.

MARCELLUS
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

HORATIO
Heaven will direct it.

MARCELLUS
Nay, let's follow him.

Exeunt

***

Act 1, SCENE V. Another part of the platform.
Enter Doctor and Hamlet

HAMLET
Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further
Until I know how you be called.

DOCTOR
Call me the Doctor.

HAMLET
Gladly, O Physician.

DOCTOR
Nay, just the Doctor will be fine.
I must speak quickly and may not linger here.

HAMLET
Alas, poor spectre! Is the time so short
Wherein you may walk upon the earth?

DOCTOR
Not a bit of it. I'm freezing my tits off
And within yon ship, my tea is getting cold.
Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.

HAMLET
Speak; I am bound to hear.

DOCTOR
So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.

HAMLET
What?

DOCTOR
O look, sorry, that was a bit dramatic,
Was it not?
And all this hovering and disappearing
Night after endless night, was not in my intent;
But that the TARDIS did refuse again to shew
The date exact, that I might know correct -
Well, 'tis a long story. Mind you,
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would gobsmack thee, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:
Do you even have porpentines in Denmark?
Never mind. List, list, O, list!
If thou didst ever thy dear father love--

HAMLET
O God!

DOCTOR
What? O yes, if you like. But of thy father:
Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

HAMLET
Murder!

DOCTOR
That is what I said.
Murder most foul, as in the best it is;
But this most foul, strange and unnatural.
You're not going to believe this one.

HAMLET
Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.

DOCTOR
Good lad;
But first, know that I advocate not revenge
In general sense. It can make a right mess of things -
Hast thou ever been to Sicily? Well then, that's my point.
But this is such a bloody mess - or anyway, 'tis going to be;
And someone must get the ball rolling, so to speak. Hence:
Here I am. Beside which, thy father was a friend of mine.
Now, Hamlet, hear:
'Tis given out that, sleeping in his orchard,
A serpent stung thy father; but know, thou clever boy,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life
Now wears his crown.

HAMLET
O my prophetic soul! My uncle!

DOCTOR
Got it in one. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
Had for some time past
Been having it off with your mum.
It was killing thy father - at least that's what he said
When from time to time I did pop round
For a cup of tea. Ironic, really, shoulds't thou think of it;
When to say it later, he really did kill him ...
But, soft! it's not half freezing out here;
Brief let me be. Sleeping within his orchard one afternoon -
The which must I confess was part my fault,
As we had carouséd rather late the night before,
And had raised a few too many goblets of wine;
But as I was saying to thee,
Upon that secure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial -
Which is a sort of poisonous ferment of leaves of yew,
Called Taxus baccata of the conifers.
Quite clever, really, for it was near to hand;
Not to mention poetic, oft uséd as it is
To decorate the graves of the dead.
Thine uncle might be a right bastard, but he does do it up right
You must admit.
Where was I? Ah, yes.
In the porches of thy father's ears thine uncle did pour
The foul poison; whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of man
That swift as quicksilver it courséd through
The natural gates and alleys of the body,
And drop't him like a stone.
Thus was thy father the king, sleeping, by a brother's hand
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd.
O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
Really, truly just absolutely horribly horrible.
If I were thee, I would put up with it not;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned incest,
As it really does make the whole country look bad.
Now fare thee well at once!
The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
And I can't feel my fingers, it's so bloody cold out here.
Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me.

Exit

HAMLET
O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?
And shall I couple hell? O, fie! Hold, hold, my heart;
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee!
Ay, thou Doctor, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember thee!
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records;
See with the eye of my mind
Naught but thy hovering indigo crate -
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!
O most pernicious woman! -

Re-enter Doctor

DOCTOR
Right, sorry, one more thing.
I know you're mad at your mum
For shagging your uncle -
And who wouldn't be, really?
But don't you go killing her over this or anything.
She had nothing to do with murdering your da,
And you know how these things go:
She's got to be feeling pretty rotten about all of it,
Now that he's dead.
Best to leave her alone, then, and just stick to getting back at your uncle,
As he's the real villain in the case.
All right, that's all, I'll be off. Best of luck to you -
Er, to thee. Adieu. And all that.
'Bye!

Exit

HAMLET
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
Meet it is I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark.
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
It is 'Adieu, adieu! remember me.'
I have sworn 't.