They were back in the Elephant Inn with Shakespeare, Romana looking deeply troubled and she paced furiously up and down the room, hands clasped behind her back, deep in thought.

Dolly, Shakespeare's maid walked in, frowning at Romana. "I've got you a room, Lady Romana and Mr Braxiatel and I've got you a separate room as well, Miss Jones." She nodded over towards Martha before leaving.

Shakespeare took a drink of his beer, sighing. "Poor Lynley. So many strange events. You say this was murder Lady Romanadvoratrelundar?"

"Yes." Romana replied, not stopping her pacing. "Someone or something wants your play to be continued. But why? What for? Lynley wanted to stop your play and someone must have overheard the conversation. Somebody within this building is not human. It's the only obvious explanation." She glanced at Braxiatel. "And it's not us that's done it either."

"So you reckon it was someone near by?" Shakespeare frowned, trying to ignore the last part of her sentence. Not human. Certainly she didn't mean aliens? Did she? "But how could it be when the man as you said, was drowning. Drowning on dry land?" He shook his head. "This is beyond me but tell me this Braxiatel, my dear friend. How does one change his face and yet have eyes so cold on both?"

Martha frowned, wondering what Shakespeare meant by Braxiatel changing his face. She had heard that twice tonight. Were they some kind of shape-shifting aliens? But if they were, why haven't they told her?

"Let's just say I do a lot of dark reading old friend." Braxiatel replied, ignoring his question purposefully.

Shakespeare shook his head, knowing he wasn't going to get anything out of Braxiatel or any of his secrets. "A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do." He turned to Martha. "And you, you look at Braxiatel and Lady Romanadvoratrelundar like you're surprised they still exists. They're both a puzzle to you as they are to me."

Martha knew he was right, she had only just met these aliens yet there was so much to discover about them and she looked across the three of them, Romana still pacing slightly and she shook her head. "I think we should say good night." She left the room, leaving the three of them to their business.

"I must work. I have a play to complete. But I'll get my answers tomorrow, Braxiatel, Romana. I'll discover more about the pair of you tomorrow and why this constant performance of yours, Romana."

Romana made her way out of the door and she turned her head slightly to see Shakespeare. "I'd like to see you try." She smirked darkly before leaving.

Braxiatel glanced at Romana, watching her leave. "There is a small matter of something I would like to talk to you about."

"Oh? About what?" Shakespeare raised an eyebrow.

"Romana."

Shakespeare glanced at the doorway that Romana left through moments before. "Ah. She is a fine lady. What about her?"

"I'm..." Braxiatel paused, wondering how he should come about this topic. He sighed heavily.

Shakespeare laughed. "You're in love with her!" He carried on laughing, ignoring Braxiatel's glare and scowl, knowing the look upon Braxiatel's face and Shakespeare could see when a man was in love with a women. "Ah, when one is in love it is one of the most torturous device god has created. I should know because I have been down that path myself." He drank some of his beer. "You are a proud man Braxiatel and Romana is an very intelligent and strong women. You'll both be able to figure it out how to cross the bridge when the time comes I'm sure."

Braxiatel nodded and made his way over to the door. "All the world's a stage." Braxiatel replied, thinking briefly over what Shakespeare had said.

Shakespeare looked impressed. "Hm, I might use that. Good night, Braxiatel."

"Good night, William Shakespeare." He gave a curt nod before following after Romana and Martha.

He entered their room to find Martha examining it and Romana sitting up right on the bed, looking thoughtful. "It's not exactly five-star, is it?" Martha asked, putting down the object she was holding.

"We've been in worse." Romana replied, thinking back on her years as being prisoner and she looked at Braxiatel, knowing he was thinking the same.

"So, come on then. Tell me. What did Shakespeare mean by you changing your face? Are you a shape-shifter of some sort?" Martha asked, glancing at them both.

Braxiatel took his jacket off and hung it up neatly on the door. "No, we're not shape-shifters." He replied. "Our species have a way of cheating death. When we're dying, we have what is called a regeneration process where we re-write every single cell in our body and become a completely new person."

"So, when you met Shakespeare last time, you had a different face right?" Martha began, processing the information. "So then in between you had a regeneration."

"A few." Braxiatel nodded.

"Hopefully you'll never have to see us regenerate," Romana told her. "It can be a very dangerous, tricky process at times but Time-Ladies have more control of it than Time-Lord's." Romana looked smugged and Braxiatel merely scowled.

Martha shook her head. "Right. Regeneration." She hugged herself. She was still learning more about them every time but this was a vital information to her and she knew she was prepared just in case if either of these Time-Lord's did regenerate. "And I haven't even got a tooth-brush for tonight."

Romana pats down her pockets in her coat before rummaging through them and getting out a TARDIS blue tooth-brush. "Here you go. Contains Venusian spearmint. Don't worry, I haven't used it."

Martha laughed. "Thanks." Braxiatel went onto the bed next to Romana, both of them not bothered by the little space they have. "So, magic and stuff. That's a surprise. It's a little bit 'Harry Potter'."

Romana scoffed at the thought. "Magic? It's not magic, it's science."

"Come on! You've seen it yourself! What happened to that poor guy, it was like black magic!" Martha pointed towards the window, indicating to where the death of Lynley took place.

"It's make-believe magic. It will always come down to science in the end Martha for there is no such thing as magic. It looks like witchcraft but it really isn't." Romana replied, denying every existence of magic. Time-Lord's have always opted for Science. Lower species will call science magic but in the end, science always wins. She looked over at Martha. "There's such thing as psychic energy but no human in this time would not be able to do that. Not without a generator that's the size of Taunton."

Braxiatel chuckled. "I'd think we'd be able to spot that Romana."

"Oh of course we'll will. But the main question is, who wants the play to be continued mmm? Something is staring at me right in the face and I can't see it." She ran a hand through her hair, irritated. "And there's something about the Globe having 14 sides bothering me."

Martha nodded. "We'll work it out tomorrow morning. Good night, Romana. Good night, Braxiatel."

"Good night Martha." Both Time-Lord's called and Martha walked out of their bedroom, closing the door behind them.

Romana and Braxiatel lied so that they were facing each other, neither of them needing any sleep. "What do you think it is?"

"Something very old." He replied. "The power of words would be having something to do with this. As you know, words are very powerful."

"Don't you think I know that?" Romana replied, thinking back on all those speeches she made when she was back on Gallifrey. One of the things she was famous for besides being President was her speeches. Time-Lord's always loved speeches and Romana was no exception. She sighed. "I just hate not seeing things that are staring right at me in the face. Leela would have accused this as witch-craft, but both you and I know it's not."

"No," Braxiatel agreed and he tried hard not to think how much he enjoyed being so close to Romana, especially on a small bed and he quickly pushed those thoughts to the side. He had more important matters at hand to think about. "The Doctor would know."

Suddenly, there was a loud scream coming up from above and Braxiatel and Romana both jumped out of their bed and ran towards it, greeting Martha in the hallway and they went into Shakespeare's room where he jolted awake from his sleep on the desk and Braxiatel and Romana rushed to examine Dolly's body.

Shakespeare blinked away his sleep. "Wha? What was that?"

Martha ran to the window and her eyes widened as she saw a silhouette of a witch on a broom flying in the sky, cackling and she shuddered, not wanting to believe what she just saw.

"Her heart gave out. She died of fright." Braxiatel explained, looking at her.

"Romana?" Martha asked, breathlessly.

Romana joined Martha by the window, leaving Braxiatel. "What did you see?"

"A witch."

The next day, they all met in Shakespeare's room and Shakespeare was sat at his desk, his play in his hands and he shook his head, saddened by the death of Dolly. She was a very close friend of his and to lose her in such a way, saddened him greatly. "Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey. She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place. We all ran like rats. But what could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit."

"Something terrifying apparently." Romana murmured, looking thoughtful as she rested her head on top of her hands.

Martha looked over towards Shakespeare. "No, but I saw a witch. Whether you like it or not Romana," She looked at Romana who scoffed at the idea of a witch existing. "Big as you like, flying, cackling away and you've written about witches."

Shakespeare frowned, trying to think of when he wrote about witches. "I have? When was that?"

Braxiatel whispered in Martha's ear. "Too soon for that Martha." Martha looked sheepish, realizing the mistake she has made.

"Peter Streete spoke of witches." Romana commented and they all stared at her.

"Who's Peter Streete?" Martha asked.

"Our builder. He sketched the plans to the globe." Shakespeare replied, nodding in confirmation. Pete was a dear friend of his but then bad things happened to him after he had finished the globe which was such a shame to the poor man as he was a genius himself in his own way.

"I would like to have a word with him. Perhaps he knows of these witches," Romana sneered. "That we are speaking of. But first, we need to see the globe itself. Come on!" She ran off and Shakespeare and Martha looked at Braxiatel questioningly.

"Well, do as my lady says." He looked at them pointedly before leaving the room. "We're going to the globe."

A little while later when they have arrived at the globe theatre, Romana and Braxiatel were standing in the pit whilst Martha and Shakespeare were onstage.

Romana gazed around. "The columns there yes? 14 sides. Tell me, William, why are there 14 sides to this?"

Shakespeare shrugged. "It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all. Said it carried the sound well."

"It sounds familiar. 14..." Romana frowned, shoving her hands in her coat pocket. "What is it with the number 14?"

"There are 14 lines in a sonnet." Martha pointed out helpfully.

Romana nodded in agreement. "There is. Words and shapes that follow the dame design." She began to pace. "14 lines, 14 sides, 14 facets...Tetradecagon! Oh, come on Romanadvoratrelundar! You can do better than this! Words, letters, numbers, lines!"

"This is just a theatre!" Shakespeare pointed out.

Braxiatel looked at him. "You'll be surprised at how much magic a theatre can hold, William. Standing on this stage, or any stage for the matter with people saying the right words with the right emphasis at the right time. You can make a man weep, make a man cry with joy and you can change a man himself. You can change people's minds with words in a theatre and if you exaggerate it..."

Martha looked at him. "It's like yours and Romana's police box. Small wooden box with all that power inside."

Romana beamed at her. "I knew there was a reason we chosen you to be our companion Martha Jones." She looked at Shakespeare. "Now that I have had a proper look at the theatre, I would like to see the man himself. Peter Streete. Is there a way you can take us to him?"

"You won't get an answer. A month after finishing this place...lost his mind." Shakespeare replied, shaking his head.

"I've lost my mind once." Romana whispered quietly, remembering how after being a Dalek's prisoner for a decade, she had completely lost her mind and she hadn't been sane in a while after that. But luckily, the Doctor helped her to heal and recover, even if it did take a long time. "It wasn't pretty."

Braxiatel frowned. "Was this when the Daleks kept you prisoner?"

Romana nodded. "Your brother helped me to recover and heal afterwards, but for a long time I wasn't sane. Wasn't safe for anybody, not even from myself and without your brother, I would think I would have still lost my mind." She closed her eyes slightly, remembering her painful past. "It was in the early stages of when I came President. He told me to relax, saying I was taking things far too seriously and I relaxed for only a brief nanosecond before I was kidnapped by Daleks who made me lose my mind." She laughed bitterly. "That served me well."

Martha and Shakespeare looked at her with wide eyes. Martha couldn't believe it. Romana always held herself so strong and held herself with so much authority and to hear her that she had been a prisoner of some sorts and to have lost her mind...it was completely unimaginable.

Romana shook her head as though getting rid of the memories before smiling. "So, can you take us to Peter?"

"Of course, but like I said...you won't be able to get anything out of him." Shakespeare warned her.

"Why? How did Peter lose his mind?" Martha asked.

"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled." Shakespeare shrugged.

"I will. Just watch me try." Romana told him and Shakespeare knew that Romana was going to win.

Braxiatel looked thoughtful. "Perhaps the witch that Martha saw had something to do with making Peter losing his mind. Wanting to get rid of him. Where is he now?"

"Bedlam." Shakespeare replied.

"What's Bedlam?" Martha asked, looking confused.

"Bethlem Hospital, otherwise known as the madhouse. Perfect for someone like me." Romana gave a tight smile. "We're going. Right now." She turned on her heels and Braxiatel and Martha followed her.

Shakespeare followed them closely. "Wait! I'm coming with you. I want to witness this at first hand!" Just as he was leaving, two of his finest actors walked in and Shakespeare handed them copies of the script. "Ralph, the last scene as promised. Copy it, hand it round. Learn it. Speak it. Back before curtain up. Remember, kid. Project. Eyes and teeth. You never know, the Queen might turn up." He walked out before scoffing to himself. "As if. She never does."

Shakespeare quickly followed the trio down a street, Romana and Braxiatel walking ahead and Shakespeare caught up with Martha, admiring her beauty. "So tell me, Miss Martha Jones, where are you from?"

"Erm...Freedonia." Martha lied, amused.

"And do you have an occupation there of sorts?"

"I'm a Doctor."

Shakespeare looked impressed. "A land where women can be Doctors and rulers! Tell me more!"

"This country's ruled by a woman." Martha reminded him.

"Ah, she's royal. That's God's business. Though you are royal beauty." Shakespeare grinned.

Martha stopped in her tracks, realizing where this conversation was taking them. "Whoa, Nelly! I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country."

"But Martha, this is town." Shakespeare protested and Martha merely gave him a pointed look.

Romana looked at them. "You humans, honestly. After we have solved this case, you humans can have a good flirt later but for now we have serious matters at hands!"

"Is that a promise, Romanadvoratrelundar?" Shakespeare smirked.

Romana gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, 57 academics just punched the air. Now move!"

They arrived in Bethlem where they heard loud screams and moans coming from the prisoners and the Jailer was walking them through the halls and Braxiatel looked at Romana in concern, noticing she's got her cold facade on. "Are you all right my lady?"

"I'm fine. Just...terrible memories coming back. I suppose I deserve them, I can't always escape unscratched." She told him truthfully.

The Jailer looked over his shoulder. "Does my Lady Romana wish some entertainment whilst she waits? I'd whip these madmen. They'll put on a good show for ya. Banddog and Bedlam!"

Romana rounded up on the jailer and pressed him up against the wall, her arm pressing down on his neck and he appeared to be struggling for breathing. How could this tiny women overpower him? Shakespeare moved to calm down Romana but Braxiatel indicated for him to stay back. "Don't you dare lay a hand on them!" Romana snapped. "Whipping them doesn't do any good and I know that for a fact. All these poor men need is a doctor! A proper doctor! Not some torture device to make them even more insane!" She tightened her grip and the jailer looked at her, terrified. "Now, let us speak to Peter." She glared at the jailer before letting him go and the jailer rubbed his sore neck before quickly scurrying away, wanting to get as far away from Romana as possible.

Shakespeare looked at her, slightly concerned. Having lost her mind in the past...he can understand how that felt. He too, had lost his mind. Especially when his son had died and that wasn't a good path for him to go down on and he knew that being here, brought back bad memories for both of them. But never did he imagined the strength that Romana could hold! If she could, he wouldn't be surprised if she could take down the jailer if she wanted to.

Romana gave a heavy sigh and Braxiatel squeezed her hand in comfort and Martha looked at her sadly. "So this is what you call a hospital yeah?" Martha asked Shakespeare, trying to distract them from what happened. "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." Shakespeare retorted darkly.

"But you're clever! Do you honestly think this place is any good?" Martha protested.

"Like Romana, I too have lost my mind. Fear of this place set me right again in a way. It serves its purpose." Shakespeare replied quietly.

"Mad in what way?"

"You've lost your son haven't you?" Braxiatel replied softly. "Last time we met, you introduced me to him."

Shakespeare nodded. "I did. My only boy. The Black Death took him and I wasn't even there."

Martha looked at him sadly. "I didn't know. I'm sorry." Not only had she learnt that Romana had lost her mind but also William Shakespeare too! And she had even studied Shakespeare at school but never did she knew that he had lost his mind. Martha hoped that one day she wouldn't come down to that.

"It made me question everything. The futility of this fleeting existence. To be or not to be...oh, that's quite good." Shakespeare looked slightly pleased.

Romana gave him a gentle smile. "You should write that down."

"Hm, maybe not. A bit pretentious?"

"This way, m'lady!" The Jailer called, glancing at Romana nervously and they walked down the hall to Peter Streete's cell and the jailer unlocked the door. "They can be dangerous, m'lady. Don't know their own strength."

Romana glared at him. "As I've said before, it would help if you didn't whip them! These are your patients. They need love, kindness and support! Not hatred, whipping and been made mockery off! No matter what they have done. Now get out of my sight before I will do something I will regret!" The jailer gulped before quickly leaving the room.

Braxiatel turned to Romana. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, concerned. He didn't want any harm coming to her despite knowing the fact that Romana could take care of herself.

"Of course. I know what's it like to lose your mind Braxiatel, believe me." She gave him a pointed glare before slowly approaching Peter. "Peter? Peter Streete? My name is Romanadvoratrelundar, but you are more than welcome to call me Romana. I have come to talk to you." She began softly.

Shakespeare shook his head. "He's the same as he was. You'll get nothing out of him."

Romana gently laid a hand on Peter's shoulder, ignoring Shakespeare and knowing that this man needed a gentle hand. Someone kind and caring and approachable to talk to. "Peter?" She asked again more softly and Peter's head jerked up and he looked at Romana with wild, glassy eyes and it looked as though he wanted to speak, but couldn't and Romana knew what he felt like for she had been in his postion once before. She gently placed her fingertips along Peter's face. "Peter, I want you to go into your past, exactly one year go. I want you to let your mind go back, back to when everything was normal. I want you to let go. That's it, you're doing good." She helped to lie Peter down on his cot. "Tell me your story, Peter. I'm very much interested. I especially want you to tell me about the witches."

Peter looked at her. "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 manically. "They slapped poor Peter's wits!"

"Do you know where the witches live Peter?" Romana asked. "Because we are going to put an end to it, that I promise you." She told him sincerely.

Pete looked at her desperately. "All Hallows Street."

"Too many words." A voice hissed and Romana quickly stood up, staring face down at the witch that had arrived so suddenly and quietly into the room.

Martha gasped, shocked. "What the hell?"

"Just one touch of the heart!" The witch smirked and was about to make her way to Peter but Romana was in her way and couldn't get past her.

"Don't you dare." Romana snarled dangerously. "Don't you dare lay a finger on him. You've done enough to him all ready!"

"Witch! I'm seeing a witch!" Shakespeare gasped, horrified.

"Fine." The witch merely shrugged, glaring at Peter before looking around at the others. She could deal with Peter later when they weren't here. "Then who shall I pick for my next victim mm? Just one touch, that's all it takes!" She cackled before she turned to Romana. "Perhaps it shall be you!" She cackled. "Poor, fragile, mortals."

"Good thing I'm not mortal." Braxiatel muttered quietly underneath his breath.

Martha went over to the door, terrified and she began to shake on it. "Let us out! Let us out!" She screamed.

"That's not going to work. The whole building is shouting that." Braxiatel told her calmly.

The witch glanced at them all. "Who will die first, mmm?"

"If you're looking for volunteers, then I'll be the first option." Romana spoke calmly, broadening her shoulders.

"Romana, no!" Braxiatel shouted, his hearts quickening. No, not his dear Romana. He would blame himself for eternity if anything happened to her.

"No mortal has the power over me." The witch told them.

"Then it's a good thing I'm here." Romana smirked dangerously, looking at the witch closely. "I know what you are and I will name you. Humanoid female who uses shapes and words to channel energy and uses the number 14. The 14 stars of the Rexel Planetary configuration! Creature, I name you, Carrionite!" Romana pointed her finger at the carrionite and the carrionite wailed and disappeared with a flash.

Martha blinked, trying to figure out what happened. "What did you do?"

"I named her species. Magic doesn't exists but the power of a name does. We should know that." Romana sent a coy smile at Braxiatel. "Old magic."

Martha frowned. "But you said yourself before, there's no such thing as magic."

"And there isn't. It's all down to science. If you have the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can spilt the atom. Carrinoites use words instead." Romana replied.

"Use them for what?" Shakespeare asked, having calmed down.

"The end of the world." Braxiatel replied before looking at Peter. "But I think somebody should keep an eye on Peter, get him a proper doctor in case the Carrinoites come back."

Romana nodded. "Now that we have the Carrinoites address. Come, let's go back. I don't want to be here longer than necessary." She gave one last look at Peter before walking out of the cell, the others following her.