A/N: So as it's raining and getting icy here in Philly, I'm sitting around working more on this story. I'll be exceedingly generous to you all and give you this chapter a day early just because I feel like it. Hope you enjoy! Many thanks to all who have reviewed, followed, and faved! You guys light up my day :D

Chapter 10: The Shakespeare Code Part 2

After Martha blew out the candle the room flooded with darkness. It seemed that she was fast asleep on her bed judging by her breathing patterns and light snoring. In the meantime Rose had turned on her side to face the Doctor, who was laying on his back with his eyes to the ceiling before mirroring her position movement on the bed that they were sharing, which was incredibly small as their faces were just inches apart. If they ended up in a situation like this a year ago, this definitely would have been angsty for the both of them, all of the nervousness of initiating things that might jeopardize their friendship. Thankfully everything's changed since then, and it was anything but awkward.

Despite being in such close proximity to each other Rose could just barely see the entirety of his face in the pitch blackness of the room. However just behind him was the window which shone the moonlight over his head, a small steak of it crossing the top of his head revealing his glimmering gaze melting into hers. She could easily tell he was smiling by the crinkles appearing in the corner of his left eye. Ever since they started sharing a bed on the TARDIS she's noticed how much more peaceful he seemed, just as she had herself. Between them was so much tranquility and calmness when they held each other in their protective embrace.

Lifting her hand she gently traced over his features in the dim light, starting at his left eyebrow and descending down to his sideburn, his smattering of freckles on his cheek, and his jaw. Her forefinger brushed over his lips and she felt him press a soft kiss to the tip.

Gazing at Rose as she mapped out his facial features, the Doctor was marveled not only by how gentle and soft her touch was, but at the way the moonlight from the window behind him illuminated her face, casting the shadow of himself over her, still making her prominent in the dark. Her signature tongue-in-teeth smile spread across her face, mirroring itself onto his own. How fitting. While he was surrounded by darkness she was always there in front of him shining her angelic glow upon him, brightening him up with every glimmer in her eyes and enlightening smile.

As she brought her hand down from his face and placed it on the bed between them, he raised his own and repeated her motions on her own face equally gentle. When he made it to her lips his thumb traced her bottom one fully until she kissed the pad before he lowered his hand on the bed to rest over hers.

"What's buzzing around in that big brain of yours?" Rose asked in a whisper, so not to wake up Martha.

"Lots of things, as usual," he answered. "But I'm trying to understand what's going on around here."

She shifted her head a little on her pillow. "What do you think it is if it's not real magic?"

His eyes went back up to the ceiling as he explained his thoughts quietly. "There's such a thing as psychic energy but a human couldn't channel it like that, not without a generator the size of Taunton and I think we'd have spotted that. No…" He brought his eyes back to Rose and shifted again, moving a hair closer to her until their noses almost bumped. "There's something I'm missing, Rose. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it." He gave her a lopsided grin and brought his hand back to her face. "And I'm not referring to you, I see you perfectly clear."

Rose smiled softly at him and leaned into his touch as he caressed her cheek. "I don't know for sure, but it definitely ties with Shakespeare and the play. I felt a twitch just at the name Love's Labour's Won, remember? You felt it too, like something…wrong. And right before we ran out of the room when Lynley died, I felt a chill and you sensed that. Then it happened again when I went up to calm Dolly, I felt uneasy. Something seems a bit off with all of it, so they've gotta be connected. It's just too unusual."

The Doctor smiled proudly. His brilliant Rose, always pointing out the things he missed, always helping him out. "This is why I need you, Rose. You always notice the little things—always saying the right things."

She brought up her own and mirrored his position before sliding her hand behind his head, gently rubbing the nape of his neck and threw him a teasing grin. "Is that really all I'm good for?"

A chuckle escaped his nose. "Definitely not."

He closed what little space was left between them and captured her lips with his own, smiling against them as she let out a content sigh. Her hand came to rest on his cheek as she lightly brushed over his sideburn. The kiss was brief, but once he pulled back it only took another soft yet heated gaze at each other until they slowly came together again like two magnets locking on. The angle was a little off as their noses were smashed against each other and their teeth clinked, but Rose fixed that by shifting a bit to raise herself up on her forearm to lean over him a little. He hummed in approval.

Not wanting her to strain her neck, the Doctor moved his hand from the back of her head down to her shoulder and pushed her gently down onto the pillow on her back as he hovered over her slightly. He brought his opposite hand up to fully cup her face and angle it just right to deepen the kiss. She happily reciprocated once his tongue glided in and met hers, letting out a soft moan and burying one hand in his hair. He bit back on the low growl that bubbled in his chest and nipped at her upper lip.

Rose fisted his jacket with her opposite hand on his side as she pulled him to lay on top of her fully and he sighed through his nose. Her breath hitched when he brought one of his legs to sling over hers, balancing himself on his forearms as they moved their tongues together in languid strokes, their movements in tandem with his fingers on her sides. His thumbs peeked under the hem of her shirt and massaged her skin tenderly. Even though they weren't being rough with each other in their movements, the bed proved to be extremely rebellious as it creaked somewhat loudly.

This was definitely not the place to be doing this, given it was such close quarters with their new friend asleep in the bed right next to them, but because of the closeness of themselves sharing the small bed, this was pretty much expected. As they would never take this too far unless they were both ready—which they both knew they were, but still worried they moved too fast. They knew that when the time should come for them to take their relationship up to the next level physically and intimately, it would be in the privacy of their room in the TARDIS, their home, and it was going to be special, he would make sure of it.

Seeming to be on the same page they simultaneously broke the kiss as the Doctor lowered his forehead on hers while they both caught their breaths. Once his respiratory bypass kicked in he opened his eyes and saw her own boreing into his. It still was overwhelming how this lovely pink and yellow human—well, genetically enhanced human now—could create such an effect on him, a Time Lord. No doubt if they were still around they'd definitely look down on him with such disdain for falling in love with her. He grinned at the thought of that. Their love was like the sweetest sin, and he enjoyed every second of it. He was always sort of a rebel.

After a moment they both broke into a short round of quiet, breathless giggles. They both glanced over and were relieved to see Martha still sound asleep and softly snoring. Not that what they were doing was anything too inappropriate. Still it would be wrong to do such an activity in front of their new friend. They knew better than that, they just needed to control themselves a little more. Hopefully.

Carefully rolling off of her and not to disturb Martha with the creaking bed, as well as muttering his indifference to the noisy piece of furniture, the Doctor laid back on his side while Rose turned to face him again. Her lips were slightly swollen and parted as she caught her breath and he almost submitted to her again.

Rose moved closer to pillow her head on the Doctor's chest, the double rhythm of his hearts thumping in her ear. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him, snuggling into his warmth. His own came around her as one arm slung over her waist and the other over her shoulder, his hand stroking her hair.

"You really didn't answer my question," she breathed out.

"Do I really have to?" he asked with a smile.

Rose brought a hand to his chest and laid it over his left heart. "No, but you left me guessing other possible answers."

He lifted his head up to look down at her, caressing her scalp with his fingers and appreciating the tingling sensation he felt as he brushed her temple. "Well, you're brilliant at…basically a lot, so to explain every single reason why, then you'd be here for a while."

She lifted her head up to look at his face. "I'm not going anywhere."

That lovely happy sound she adored so much came from his throat as he nuzzled her hair. "Still though, I have an idea of what exactly might be going on around here, but it's very unlikely…" he trailed off and fell back onto the pillow.

"We'll figure this out, Doctor," she whispered, laying her head back on his chest. "We always do."

A few moments of calm silence followed as they lay together in each other's arms. No doubt the Doctor was pondering possible suspects and whatnot to explain the mysterious incidents occurring. Rose just closed her eyes to listen to the thumping of his hearts, but she suddenly felt another chill shoot down her spine and immediately opened her eyes. Something was wrong again.

Her feelings were once again proven right when the silence was soon disrupted when a loud scream suddenly belted out. In an instant the Doctor and Rose ran to the door with a now fully awake Martha following. Going down the hall they stopped by Shakespeare's room and saw Dolly lying on the floor.

The window behind her was opened, a breeze blowing the thin curtains. Rose ran over to it as the Doctor knelt by the woman on the ground. Martha joined her and they couldn't believe what they saw. In the far distance was a dark silhouette of what looked to be a witch flying on a broomstick cackling.

"Her heart gave out," the Doctor breathed out behind them. "She died of fright."

Rose turned to him, still standing by the window. "Uh, Doctor?"

He lifted his head and got joined the girls by the window. "What? What did you see?"

Martha still gazed out of the window where the witch had been. "A witch."

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The three waited until dawn and made their way back to join Shakespeare at his desk and sat. The Doctor leaned back in his chair, propping his head up as he began to think.

"Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey," Shakespeare said sadly. "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."

"'Rage, rage against the dying of the light'," the Doctor quoted, eyes distant.

Shakespeare seemed to like the sound of the quote. "I might use that."

He glanced at the playwright. "You can't, it's someone else's."

"But the thing is," Martha spoke up, "Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright and they were both connected to you."

Rose nodded. "Exactly."

Shakespeare was confused as he looked between the two of them with disbelief. "You're accusing me?"

"No, Will, we're not," Rose said calmly. "It's just a weird coincidence how two people connected to you in some way are now gone, that's all."

Martha nodded and gestured between her and Rose. "We saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches."

He looked more confused. "I have? When was that?"

The Doctor leaned over to Martha. "Not…not quite yet," he said quietly.

"Peter Streete spoke of witches," Shakespeare mentioned.

"Who's Peter Streete?" Martha asked.

"Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe."

"The architect," Rose said quietly.

The Doctor thought about that and glanced at Rose next to him. "Hold on, the architect! The architect!" He exclaimed. "The Globe! Come on!" The Doctor touched Rose's arm as he jumped out of his seat and ran out of the door, the others following.

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As they made it to the Globe theatre Rose admired its structure now that it was daylight. She sat on the stage with her legs dangling over the edge while Martha and Shakespeare stood on it, all of them watching the Doctor as he paced thoughtfully in the pit.

"The columns there, right?" He pointed up at them. "Fourteen sides."

"Why fourteen?" Rose asked curiously, swaying her feet in the air.

"I've always wondered, but I never asked," the Doctor said before turning to Shakespeare. "Tell me, Will. Why fourteen sides?"

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

"Fourteen," the Doctor repeated, counting with his fingers as he thought. "Why does that ring a bell? Fourteen…"

"There's fourteen lines in a sonnet," Martha suggested.

The Doctor nodded. "So there is, good point. Words and shapes following the same design," he started pacing again, "Fourteen lines, fourteen sides, fourteen facets," his hands made their way into his hair as he thought out loud, "Oh, my head. Tetradecagon. Think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!"

"This is just a theatre!" Shakespeare piped up.

"Is it really?" Rose said, looking up in the playwright. "These people that act out are performing stories—stories with character and feeling and passion. They put in so much heart into their job to please an audience every night. All of those people crave entertainment and they cheer on when they're satisfied. It's not just a theatre to them, it's a way of life."

The Doctor walked over to Rose who sat on the edge of the stage and smiled proudly. He took her hands and placed a kiss to both of them. "Oh, you are brilliant, you are," he praised before putting hers in her lap then placing his own flat on the stage and addressing Shakespeare. "A theatre's magic, isn't it? You should know, Will. Stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis at the right time. Oh, you can make men weep or cry with joy. Change them…" He paused for a moment and Rose could tell he was getting somewhere as she could practically see the gears in his head working. "You can change people's minds just with words in this place. But if you exaggerate that…" he turned away and began to pace again.

"It's like your police box," Martha said, smiling. "Small wooden box with all that power inside."

"Nice one," Rose commented.

"Oh." The Doctor arched his brows as he turned to their companion. "Martha Jones, I like you. Tell you what, though, Peter Streete would know. Can I talk to him?"

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

"Why? What happened?" Rose asked.

"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling—his mind was addled."

The Doctor moved back to the stage. "Where is he now?"

"Bedlam."

"What's Bedlam?" Martha asked.

"Bethlem Hospital. The madhouse."

"We're going to go there. Right now." The Doctor grabbed Rose by the waist, and lifted her up, inwardly grinning at the soft squeal she made in the process, and off the stage to the ground. "Come on!" Nodding to Martha, he took Rose's hand and headed off.

"Wait!" Shakespeare called out from behind, running after them. "I'm coming with you. I want to witness this at first hand."

The Doctor heard him but just kept on going with Rose by his side. "Going to an insane asylum," she commented, "Should be exciting."

"Obviously these witches have tampered with the man's mind once he saw them exposed," the Doctor said. "But the real question is why? What are they trying to accomplish?"

"A spell, maybe?" Rose suggested.

He considered her thought. "Hm. Could be, good thinking."

"It's why you need me, right?" she teased.

He chuckled. "Oh, you know there's so many reasons," he said winking at her before turning around. "Wait a minute, where's—" he stopped when he saw Martha and Shakespeare stopped and chit-chatting. With Rose, they walked back over to them.

"I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country," they heard Martha say.

"But Martha, this is Town," he told her.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said once they reached them, "We can all have a good flirt later."

Shakespeare turned and eyed him up and down. "Is that a promise, Doctor?"

Rose barely contained her laughter as the Doctor's eyes widened. "Oh…fifty seven academics just punched the air," he muttered. "Now move!"

As they began to move, Rose tried to stifle her giggles but failed. She nudged the Doctor and teased him in a sing-song tone, "You tickled his fancy."

He rolled his eyes playfully. "Stop it."

"He must've been ogling your bum when you weren't looking."

"It's this body. It's too pretty," he said, shaking his head.

"I'm not complaining," Rose said with a sweet smile.

The Doctor laughed once. "Neither am I."

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The Bethlehem Hospital was definitely not an exciting place to visit. Regular hospitals were skin crawling enough to the Doctor and Rose, but a mental hospital? It topped the list. The minute they walked in, Rose felt like gagging from the grimy stench of the poorly hygienic patients as well as the entire rotted building. The Doctor wrapped a protective arm tightly around her waist and kept her close to him as they passed the cells of the raving patients. The twisted emotions and challenged minds of these people were so strong she could almost sense it as she shivered inside.

Once the Doctor asked for Peter Streete's cell, a guard led them down a corridor. He stopped and asked him with a proud smile.

"Does my lord Doctor wish some entertainment while he waits? I'd whip these madmen. They'll put on a good show for ya. Bandog and Bedlam!"

The Doctor glared at the guard and growled. "No, I don't!"

His anger made the guard quickly step back. "Wait here, my lords, while I make him decent for the ladies," and then he walked away.

"And hospitals are meant to heal people," Rose said with disgust.

Martha turned to Shakespeare, face full of disdain. "And you put your friend in here?"

"Oh, and it's all so different in Freedonia," he defended with a scoff.

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

Shakespeare nodded once and appeared sad. "I've been mad, I've lost my mind. Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose."

Martha was shocked. "Mad in what way?"

Rose felt the Doctor stiffen a little beside her as he tightened his grip on her waist. "You lost your son," he said quietly.

Of course he would tense up at such a painful, personal experience he understood all too well. She brought her arm around his back and gently massaged him, his tension easing up a bit.

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

Martha frowned. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"It made me question everything," he said. "The futility of this fleeting existence. To be or not to be…" he paused for a moment. "Oh, that's quite good."

Rose glanced up at the Doctor and bit back on a laugh when she saw his lips twitch. "You should write that down."

Shakespeare was thoughtful for a moment. "Hm, maybe not. A bit pretentious?"

The Doctor shrugged nonchalantly. "Ehh," he said, making Rose chuckle.

The guard came back to them to say it was ready for them to come in. He led them to Peter Streete's cell and unlocked the door. The man was sitting upright on his bed with head hanging and his eyes closed.

"They can be dangerous, m'lord," the guard warned. "Don't know their own strength."

"I think it helps if you don't whip them," the Doctor gritted. "Now get out!" Once the guard left the Doctor released Rose from his grip and approached Peter slowly and knelt before him. "Peter?" he said softly. "Peter Streete?"

"He's the same as he was," Shakespeare said, standing by the door with the girls. "You'll get nothing out of him."

The Doctor placed a hand on his shoulder and tried again. "Peter?"

The man's head finally snapped up and opened his eyes, which were wide and glassy and…lost. Knowing this man's mental state, he most likely wouldn't be able to perform any type of speech, so the Doctor resorted to his other method. Raising his hands and gently placing his fingers on the man's temples, the Doctor closed his eyes as he went inside the man's broken mind. It was a jumbled mess, like tangled up wires. Slowly opening in his, he spoke softly to the man.

"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. Listen," Peter obeyed as he began to slump. "That's it, just let go," he set him down on his bed, "Tell me the story, Peter. Tell me about the witches."

The architect began to speak with a slight raspy voice. "Witches spoke to Peter, in the night, they whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design—their design! The fourteen walls—always fourteen. When the work was done—" he giggled, "—they snapped poor Peter's wits."

"Where did Peter see the witches? Where in the city?" the Doctor asked. "Peter, tell me. You've got to tell me where were they?"

Peter hesitated at first before whispering, "All Hallows Street."

"Too many words!" A voice screeched as a figure suddenly appeared beside the Doctor, making him and the others jump. It was an old haggard woman with deep wrinkles, a large pointed nose and a mole on her slightly discolored skin, dirty gray hair that hung loosely and thin, her clothing looking like a black sheet. It was a witch.

Rose twitched as she and Martha gawked at the woman and exclaimed in unison, "What the hell?"

The witch lifted a single finger in the air. "Just one touch of the heart." She bent down and placed it on Peter's chest.

"No!" the Doctor shouted, but he was too late as Peter screamed at her touch then became silent. He was dead.

Shakespeare pointed a trembling finger at the woman. "Witch! I'm seeing a witch!"

The witch looked over the four of them, holding her finger up. "Who would be next, hmm? Just one touch. Oh, oh, I'll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals."

Martha turned and gripped the bars of the cell and shook them violently as she yelled, "Let us out! Let us out!"

Rose placed a hand on one of her arms. "Martha, everyone's shouting that. It won't do us any good."

The witch grinned widely, showing her nasty, rotted teeth. "Who will die first, hmm?"

The Doctor shrugged and stepped forward. "Well, if you're looking for volunteers."

Rose's heart stopped for a second. He sacrificing himself again. "Doctor!"

Martha cried as well. "Don't!"

"No mortal has power over me," the witch said.

"Oh, but there's a power in words," he said, pacing around, "If I can find the right one, if I can just know you…"

"None on Earth has knowledge of us," the witch sneered.

"Then it's a good thing I'm here. Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy…and, of course—" He paused to turn around and arch an eyebrow at Rose.

"Fourteen," she finished.

He nodded. "Fourteen—the fourteen stars of the Rexel planetary configuration." He snapped his fingers before pointing at the woman. "Creature, I name you Carrionite!"

With that the witch gasped and screamed before disappearing.

"What the hell did you do?" Rose asked, more than relived that he wasn't harmed.

"I named he—the power of a name," he said looking over his fingers before turning to her and throwing a grin. "That's old magic."

"But there's no such thing as magic," Martha said, shaking her head.

"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 asked.

The Doctor arched his brows at Rose and pressed his lips together in a straight line. She sighed. "Of course, the usual, as always."

Martha glanced between the two. "And what exactly is 'the usual?'"

The Doctor moved next to Rose and said grimly, "The end of the world."