〖 〗

, still rattled by what they had just witnessed. William rubbed his head, leaning against his desk. He plopped into his chair, which groaned under his weight.

"I've got your room, Sir Doctor. It's just across the landing." The woman informed them, smiling softly and her hands on her hips. When she received a nod from Martha, she hurried off.

"Poor Lenny. Most curious of all; the land of Freedonia where a woman cane become a Doctor?" William asked, shocked at Martha's statement from earlier.

"Where a woman can do what she likes." She crossed her arms across her chest, becoming slightly agitated with William's behavior.

"And you, Sir Doctor, how could a man so young have eyes so old?" He asked.

"I do a lot of reading." The Doctor responded flatly, no emotions convoying in his face. William nodded and smiled in return.

"Tell you what, that's what I do." He drew a faint smile from the Doctor. William's eyes darted to Valarie.

"And you, you look at him like your surprised he exists. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me." He informed her, Valarie suddenly felt slightly embarrassed. Her eyes darted to the Doctor, who simply stared down at the smaller human. She couldn't read what emotion brewed beneath his eyes; that seemed to be something he was good at, hiding things. But when Valarie felt the embarrassed pink flush up her cheeks, she turned away from his stare.

"I think I should take off." She mumbled, hurrying from the room and down the hall.

"I think I should too." Martha mumbled, following her quickly and closely behind as they left the now tension

The room fell silent as the women left, the Doctor gazing off into space, deep in thought. William leaned back, eyes flickering over the papers.

"I have a play to complete." He sighed, standing and walking behind his desk to return to writing.

"I'll find my answers tomorrow. And I'll discover more about you and this constant performance of yours." William stood, eyeing his work as the Doctor walked out of the room, pausing just under the doorway.

"Whole worlds a stage." Was his simple response, still not looking at William.

"That's good. I might use that. Goodnight, Doctor."

"Nighty-night, Shakespeare."

____________

The floor groaned as Martha shut the window. The groaning of the wood made the Doctor's entrance obvious, as Martha turned to face him.

"Not exactly five-star, is it?" She teased. Her smile was weak.

"We'll manage." The Doctor inputted, pulling the door to.

"I haven't even got a toothbrush." The Doctor began to pay on his pockets, before amazingly drawing a toothbrush out. He handed it to Martha.

"New experiment." He told her, as a reassuring form to let her know it was safe to use. Valarie stood from her place at the window, walking towards the bed and crawling into the middle. Her head laid between each pillow, and her small frame not taking up much of the room.

"But there's only one bed." She argued, raising a eyebrow to peer at him. He unbuttoned his coat, before turning and falling backwards into the bed. His larger frame nearly crushing Valarie if she hadn't of squirmed over a bit in the last second. His eyes locked on nothing.

"So, Magic and stuff. Sounds a bit Harry Potter." Martha smiled excitedly, the Doctor's interest immediately peaking. He smiled

"Wait till you read book seven. Oh, I cried." He shook his head, reminiscing on the book.

"But is it real though? Witches, magic and all of that, is it real though?" Martha still persisted with the question, eyes practically sparking with excitement.

"Course it isn't!" The Doctor spat, eyebrows furrowing like it was the most impossible thing. Next to him, Valarie crossed her arms.

"Give us a break, we recently started believing in time travel. And aliens, Mr.Time Lord!" She teased, causing him to frown.

"Looks like witchcraft but it can't be. You just gonna stand there?" The Doctor asked Martha, before she jumped to move. She set the candle she held down onto the night table.

"Can you jump over a bit?" She asked. The Doctor quickly moved, Valarie too. But as soon as Martha was in the bed, the room became very limited. Valarie was squished between the two, and didn't have any arm room at all.

"Sorry it's a bit cramped. It's three of us in one bed." Martha apologized, as if she had any control over the situation.

"This is a bit cramped?" Valarie laughed, her whole arm practically missing against his side.

"Could be psychic energy, but no human could channel it like that." The Doctor continued to cross theories of what was happening out. He continued to mumble things neither woman understood, before turning and flipping on his side to face inwards onto the bed. Martha mimicked his action. They laid facing each other, with Valarie's head awkwardly in the middle.

"There's something I'm missing. Something close. Staring me right in the face and I can't see it." He sighed, eyes darting between Martha and Valarie; who craned her head at an awkward angle to look at him.

"Rose would know. If my Rose was here right now, she would be telling me." He gazed off, thoughts drifting to the image of Rose. His eyes snapped back to theirs; Martha brown ones watching hesitantly as she swallowed hard. Then down to Valarie. Her blue eyes stared back in wonder, and almost pity. He quickly realized how awkwardly close he laid to them, and flipped back onto his back.

"Still. I'll wake you up tomorrow." He said flatly.

"Great." Martha replied, jerking to face away from the two and blow to candle out; forcing darkness upon the room. Valarie laid in awkward silence as Martha's back pressed against hers, and she was no doubt squeezed as far into the Doctor's side as she could possibly be.

She felt invasive. Absolutely, positively invasive. She laid there, eyes studying the ceiling as the Doctor blankly watched off into space.

Valarie wanted answers however, she craved them. She wanted to know what was going on, what exactly is the sinister thing drowning people on land. Why has she never read Loves Labour's Won. But another question stirred, a more deep question.

Who is Rose?

The Doctor mentioned her once before. He said she was happy, safe, with her family. But why did he seem so melancholy and empty whenever her name passed his lips? Why was he always forced into a trance as if he was seeing something traumatizing. Valarie began to wonder if Rose really was happy and safe. A more person question drawled under that, something Valarie didn't want to answer even though she was the only one who could.

Why was what Shakespeare said right?

About the way Valarie looks at the Doctor. "You look at him like your surprised he exists. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me."

To anyone, the Doctor seems like a bizarre man at first. But just these few days, Valarie already craves more to know about him. Where he's from. What all he's seen. Sometimes, Valarie knows he must've seen horrible things. Things of nightmares.

He's seen planets crumble, no doubt. But why is he alone? Valarie asked this a lot. He seems to kind and bright to be alone. He said he preferred loneliness to Martha. He was alone when she meet him, but for how long he had remained that way she couldn't tell. So why did he come back for her? Why the Doctor go out of his way to come to her home, and whisk her off to the stars?

She knew the answer bubbled somewhere in her, but she couldn't find it. But rather, the heat radiating off of the bodies (the Doctor was generally warm, but anyone with a double circulatory system would be!) she was pressed against soon began to take their toles. Soon, sleep began calling her name.

Valarie closed her eyes, fully aware the Doctor still laid conscious and awake next to her. That the two laid so close he could feel her every breath. She let sleep hit her in small waves, before the tidal wave consumed her and she fell asleep.

The Doctor laid awake, head turning to watch the two. Martha laid facing away, body twitching occasionally and breathing peaceful.

Valarie had only recently gotten to sleep. He knew it the moment her body quite being rigidly stiff, and more relaxed and limp.

He knew it when he quit feeling her heart. As she had been pushed up against him so, and her heart had suddenly began to beat so fast and hard suddenly. Then, slowly it slowed down as she gave way to sleep. He would've checked to make sure she wasn't fine, hadn't had a heart attack, but occasionally her hand would twitch against him and he knew she was alright.

But he did question why her heart began to practically pound out of her chest.

__________

The scream was blood curling and horrible, and rattled the two sleeping girls from their sleep quickly. The Doctor bound from the bed, as if expecting it, and began to dart. Martha and Valarie took a moment to gather themselves, before running down the halls side by side.

They chased the Doctor's back into the room they had left William in, to find him dazed and confused and the woman who had given them their room on the floor. She was pale as cotton as the Doctor kneeled by her side. He pressed two slender fingers against her pulse.

Martha and Valarie caught interest in the open window, stepping towards it to see what appeared like a scene you would only see in Oz. On a broomstick, what appeared to be a witch cackled as she flew off.

"She died of fright." The Doctor quickly observed, before noticing the girls clung to the window.

"Doctor." Martha called, as he bolted behind them. He stuck his head forward, between theirs.

"What'd you see?"

"A witch."

__________

"Oh, poor Bailey." William departed from the window as they towed her body off, no one in the room gathering sleep after she had died. Deep bags formed under William, Martha, and Valarie's eyes.

"Seen three forms of plague in this place, run like rats. What could've scared her so? She had enormous spirit." William sighed, rather distraught with her death.

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light." The Doctor quoted, as William's eyebrows peaked.

"I might use that." He commented. The Doctor's eyes darted to him.

"You can't. It's someone else's." He inputted, and went no further with the subject.

"Thing is, Lenny drowned on dry land and Bailey died of fright! Both were connected to you, Will." Valarie observed, eyes soaking in William.

"You accusing me?" He quickly accused, worried he was the suspect of these deaths.

"No, but we saw a witch, but as you like, cackling and riding a bloody broomstick! You've written about witches." Valarie added on, before the Doctor's hand on her leg stopped her from going any further.

"No. Not yet, anyway." He quietly informed her.

"Peter Streete spoke of witches."

"Who?"

"Peter, the one who sketched the planes to the Globe Theater." William revealed ;suddenly like a key fitting into a lock, the wheels in the Doctor's head spun.

"The architect? The architect. The architect, and the Globe!" He cried, slamming a hand on the desk before jolting from his sleep and running. The few who saw his outburst of realization jumped up to quickly follow him.

By the time they caught the Doctor, he had analyzed everything in the theater.

"Columns there, but fourteen sides. I've always wondered, why fourteen sides?" He asked, turning to William who leaned against a great marble pillar on the stage.

"It was the shape he made was all. Said it made the sound work." William sighed, in his hand a copy of Love Labour's Won.

"What's the correlation?"

"Fourteen lines in a sonnet." Martha pointed out, as the Doctor began a pace. Valarie sat on the stage, her feet hanging off.

"Brilliant point. Fourteen sides, fourteen lines but there's got to be something else; think think think!" He slammed his head against his head, looking rather mad as he tried to piece this together.

"It's just a theater." William debated, standing off the pillar.

"It is, isn't it! The theaters magic!" He stopped at the stage, standing next to Valarie's legs as he sprawled arms across the stage and knocked the wood. "Stand on this stage, say the right words, right emphasis, and you make men weep. Or cry with joy. You can change people. Change people's mind." His eyes caught a glint Valarie had started to notice when things began to fall together.

"But you've got a wooden police box, with all that power inside!" Valarie debated, wondering why a theater would be the important location. The Doctor spun on his heels as he had departed from the theater.

"Oh, Valarie Scott, I like you. Tell you what though, Peter Streete, can I talk to him?"

"I wish I had an answer, but a month after finishing this place he lost his mind." William sighed.

"What happened?" Martha questioned, voice low and quiet.

"Started babbling around witches and magic." William revealed, a sigh after his words in evident disappointment.

"Where is he now?"

"Bethlam. Mad house."

"C'mon. We need to go, right now." The Doctor began to walk towards the doors, hands shoved in his trench coats pockets. Valarie pushed off the stage as Martha climbed down. She jogged to catch him.

"Wait!" William called, exiting the stage, "I want to see this." He hurried to match their pace, only pausing to hand two actors the script.

He then ran to catch Martha, walking by her side as she followed Valarie and the Doctor.

"So, tell me of Freedonia. Where women can be doctors, writers and actors."

"This countries ruled by a woman." Martha smirked at her comeback.

"She's royal. That's God's business. But, you are a royal beauty." He flirted, still evidently heavily attracted to Martha.

"Woah, Nelly. I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country."

"But this is the Town."

Valarie snickered up next to the Doctor, looking up at him with a playful grin. He looked down to her, repressing a smile.

"William Shakespeare has a crush on Martha! Can't seem to get enough of that." She silently laughed, as the Doctor rolled his eyes with a smile.

"Come on, we can all have a good flier later." He called to the two lagging behind. William's eyebrow peaked and dragged his lip into a sly smirk.

"Is that a promise, Doctor?"

"Oh, fifty seven academics just punched the air. Now Move!"

_________

Bethlam was as you would expect a mental hospital in this day to be; very, horribly bad. A man approached the bunch, hands behind his back with a formal smile. The four had been waiting sometime now. Screams echoed inside, chilling Valarie to the bone.

"Does my Lord Doctor wish some entertainment while he waits? I'd whip these madmen. They'll put on a good show for you. Mad dog in Bedlam." The keeper smiled, the Doctor's face contorting in disgust.

"No, I don't!" He cried, absolutely disgusted with the proposition.

"Well, wait here, my Lords, while I make him decent for the ladies." The Keeper nodded, and was off quickly. As soon as he was out of ear shot, Martha spoke."

"So this is what you call a hospital, yeah? Where the patients are whipped to entertain the gentry? And you put your friend in here?" She spat at William in disgust upon seeing the horrid conditions the patients were placed under.

"Oh, it's all so different in Freedonia." He sighed, almost dreamily, as he spoke of the fake country.

"But your clever; do you honestly think this place is any good?" Valarie questioned.

"I've been mad. I've lost my mind. Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose." William revealed, the idea of the 'treatment' here sending chills up Valarie's spine.

"Mad in what way?" Martha asked with a frown.

"You lost your son." The Doctor revealed, not looking to William. His eyes were sad and pitiful, as if he knew the madness that came with losing a child.

"My only boy. The Black Death took him. I wasn't even there." He said flatly, as if he wanted to abandon the subject rather quickly.

"I didn't know. I'm so sorry." Martha mumble after silence, the air becoming thick and tense.

"It made me question everything. The futility of this fleeting existence. To be or not to be. Oh, that's quite good. " be remanded at a quote Valarie had heard thousands of times in her English class during primary school, head spinning to the Doctor. He smiled softly, knowingly.

"You should use that." He told him simply, as the keeper approached them once again.

"Maybe not. A bit pretentious?" He seemed very iffy on using the quote that would become iconic for centuries after.

"This way, my lords!" The keeper called, motioning for all them to follow close. They were upon a cell shortly. The keeper unlocked it, and let them inside.

A sickly sight was hunched within the cell, back to those who entered as it seemed terribly frightened of even being seen. Valarie's blood curdled at the sight.

"They can be dangerous, my lord. Don't know their own strength." The keeper warned.

"I think it helps if you don't whip them. Now get out!" The Doctor roared, now fed up with the keepers attitude towards those who only wanted help.

"Peter? Peter Streete?" The Doctor gently asked, a hand raised towards who could only be assumed as Peter.

"He's the same as he was. You'll get nothing out of him." William sighed, almost disappointed.

"Peter?" The Doctor then placed his fingers against Peters shoulders, as Peter's head finally turned up and looked at those around them. He placed his hands on Peter's temples. The Doctor's eyes bore into him.

"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."

The Doctor eased Peter onto the cot he sat on. He took his hands off of Peter.