They sat in Shakespeare's room once more. The woman whose name Rose had learned was Dollys tells the Doctor, "I got you a room, Sir Doctor. You, Miss Jones, and Dame Rose are just across the landing. There's only one bed I'm afraid but it's the only room I have to spare."

She looks regretful so Rose puts a hand on her shoulder and says, "Thank you," with as much sincerity as she can muster. She was not looking forward to sharing a room with Martha and the Doctor but they would make it work.

Dolly tells her, "I left some night clothes for you and Miss Martha on the bed."

As Dolly leaves Rose hears Shakespeare say, "Poor Lynley. So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?"

Martha looks proud and replies, "Where a woman can do what she likes."

"And you Dame Rose?"

Rose laughs lightly and says, "What about me?"

"There is something off about you. Something wolflike." At his reply Rose straightens and her smile disappears. Not many people made the connection between Rose and Bad Wolf. Before it had sacred her but now… Things were different. Bad Wolf had made it possible for her to travel with the Doctor for forever.

Shakespeare turns to the Doctor and says, "And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have eyes so old?"

The Doctor hums absently and replies, "I do a lot of reading."

Shakespeare nods. "A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do." He turns back to Marth. "And you? You look at him like you're surprised he exists. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me." He looks at Rose. "But you don't. You look at him as if you know him."

Martha shakily replies, "I think we should say goodnight," while Rose stares at the writer. It was true. She knew the Doctor. Just like he knew her. Martha quickly exits the room.

Shakespeare looks down at the piles of papers in front of him. "I must work. I have a play to complete. But I'll get my answers tomorrow, Doctor, and I'll discover more about you and why this constant performance of yours."

The Doctor quotes at him, "All the world's a stage."

Shakespeare hums thoughtfully, "Hmm. I might use that. Goodnight, Doctor.

The Doctor waves at the writer before taking Rose's hand and leading her out of the room. "Nighty night, Shakespeare."

XX

In the small bedroom Rose and Martha got dresses. Rose faced the door as she unlaced the front of her over dress. She wasn't expecting for Martha to start a conversation with her so she startled quite badly when Martha spoke.

"Hey, Rose?" Martha says, quietly.

Rose responds with a small hum.

Her hands still from where they are struggling with the knot on her dress when Martha asks her, "Are you and the Doctor… together?"

Rose's heart started to pound in her chest. Everyone always asked them that. But this time Rose knew that Martha wasn't asking because she thought they made a cute couple. No, Martha was asking because she was interested in the Doctor. The very thought made unwanted tears spring in Rose's eyes.

She didn't want to think about the Doctor being with someone who wasn't her. As unfair as that was to him. And as selfish as it made Rose. Rose had always wanted the Doctor all to herself. Even though, the Doctor wasn't interested in her that way. No matter what Jack used to tell her back when they were traveling with Doctor with big ears and leather. Or what Mickey would tell her every time they came to visit. Rose couldn't believe that he would want to be with her.

Maybe once she had, but that was before he had tried to send her away all those times. Before Madame de Pompadour. Back then she could believe that the Doctor wanted her as more than a friend.

"Rose?"

Rose shook the thoughts away, "Uh, no. The Doctor and I aren't together." Rose soke the words shakily.

"Oh, good." Rose could hear the happiness in Martha's voice and it crushed her heart. "It's just you two are so close so I wasn't sure."

"Yeah," Rose managed to utter before forcing her hands to move again. She quickly undressed and put on the nightgown Dolly had left out for her. Rose practically drowned in the thing but Rose didn't mind.

She looked over her shoulder to check if Martha was ready but Martha was already brushing passed her and opening the door to allow the Doctor in. He stepped in with an upset look on his face. Rose wondered briefly what had upset him before moving to the bed and perching on it.

It was the only bed in the rather small room. A chair sat in the corner next to the small window that allowed the moonlight into the room. The bed itself was big enough for Martha and Rose to lay on it comfortably. They wouldn't have a ton of extra room but they wouldn't have to cuddle.

Rose knew from experience that the Doctor wasn't very likely to sleep tonight. He very rarely slept and Rose never saw him sleep when there was a mystery to be solved.

"So, who's going where? I mean, there's only one bed," Martha asked the Doctor.

"We'll manage. Come on." Martha followed Rose to the bed but looks disappointed. Rose knew that she was likely hoping to share a bed with the Doctor. But there was no way she could let that happen even if the Doctor did sleep. It would hurt to much.

The Doctor closed the door behind him and dragged the chair closer to the bed before sitting on it. He lifted his legs and placed them on the bed. His feet brushed Rose's and she hid a small smile.

Martha looked hesitant for a moment before asking, "So, magic and stuff. That's a surprise. It's all a little bit Harry Potter."

The Doctor got this reminiscent look on his face that always made Rose smile. What right did he have to be so gorgeous? "Wait till you read book seven. Oh, I cried."

"For a week," Rose confirmed. Rose remembered that. While the Doctor had originally protested her reading or watching anything out of order from her timeline Rose had managed to convince him to relent. They had read all the books together.

It had become something of a habit started with her first Doctor. Rose and the Doctor would pick a book and the Doctor would read it aloud to her while they snuggled on the couch in the library. Thye hadn't done that since Canary Wharf though. Rose missed hearing his gentle voice guide her to sleep.

The Doctor stuck his tongue out at her. Rose laughed and rolled her eyes. "Real mature. Who's the older one here?"

"But is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic and all that, it's real?" Martha interrupted the Doctor before he could reply. Rose felt a moment of irritation with Martha but she quickly shoved it away. Martha didn't deserve Rose's anger.

The Doctor sneered and responded as though the mere thought offended him, "'Course it isn't!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know? I've only just started believing in time travel. Give me a break." Martha's tone was offended but she was smiling like she knew the Doctor being condescending was just another part of the adventure.

"Looks like witchcraft, but it isn't. Can't be," the Doctor mused aloud. Rose's mind was running through the possibilities. While she had not seen nearly as much as the Doctor had Rose had still seen her fair share of impossibilities. Her mind kept wandering back to the girl.

"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." Rose briefly thought of the London Eye and how the Doctor had very clearly missed that. "No, there's something I'm missing, Martha. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it."

Rose decided to voice her thoughts, "You mean like the London Eye? You should have noticed that and did you?" The Doctor paused his ramblings to look at Rose. He kept staring at her so Rose continued, "You know this all started when Will was announcing his play."

"It's Will now?" the Doctor mutters but Rose ignores him.

"This obviously has something to do with him. And then there was that girl…"

The doctor interrupted her rudely, "What girl?" He was still staring at Rose with that same fond look. As if, she was the most amazing thing in the universe. Which wasn't anywhere close to the truth because if anyone in this room was going to be the most amazing thing in the universe it was the Doctor.

"The girl. I don't know her name. She was in the room with us with Shakespeare. And then she was in the courtyard, too. Except…" Rose trailed off with an uncertain twist of her lips.

"Except," the Doctor questioned.

"She didn't look scared." Rose paused. "I mean anything that looks like witchcraft scares everyone around here. Everyone out there looked terrified. But not her. She almost looked… happy."

The Doctor sat back in his seat with a deep breath. Clearly he was going over everything Rose had told him. Rose and Martha remained quiet to allow him to think.

He turned his head and smiled at Rose in a way that made her breath hitch. "Rose," he told her softly. "You are a genius." Rose was finding it harder and harder to breathe with the Doctor looking at her like that and talking to her in that voice. Rose felt her cheeks color.

"Anyways," Martha coughed.

"Right," the Doctor startled. "I'll take you back home tomorrow. For now, bed."

"Great," Martha muttered and blew out the candle on her bedside table. The room was encased in darkness.

XX

Hours passed and Rose still lay awake staring at the ceiling. The Doctor hadn't shifted in his seat for several of those hours. His feet were still propped up on the bed near her legs. The position couldn't have been very comfortable but he continued to sit the there as still as a statue.

Rose could see the faint outline of him from the moonlight and she could hear Martha's light breathing from beside her. But Rose wasn't tired.

Eventually Rose felt the Doctor's feet retreat from the bed. He placed them on the ground and stood. The Doctor pushed at Rose's shoulder. He clearly wanted her to shift but there wasn't that much room.

Rose shook her head at him hoping to deter him. It did nothing. Instead he leaned in close so that Rose could see his serious face. SOmething was bothering him and he wanted to talk. Rose thought it over before deciding to roll onto her side and scoot as far back as she could without disturbing Martha.

The Doctor laid on the small sliver of bed that had been revealed form him. They were pressed together tightly in an effort not to wake Martha who desperately needed sleep. After all she most likely hadn't slept since before going to the hospital.

"What's wrong?' Rose whispered.

He stared at her for several long seconds before telling her, "I heard you and Martha speaking earlier." Rose was confused for a second before remembering the brief conversation Rose and Martha had had while changing. The Doctor, mistaking her confusion for anger quickly followed his previous statement up with, "Not that I was eavesdropping. I just have really good hearing is all. Being a timelord and all."

The Doctor stopped talking suddenly. Rose took the brief respite from his usual gob to think about the conversation he had brought up. Why was he mentioning it? Did he want to know if Martha was single as well? Maybe he really was interested in Martha like Rose had thought.

"I'm tired," Rose blurts out the first excuse she could think of.

"Rose," the Doctor frowns. But Rose turns so that she is facing the other way. The Doctor doesn't say anything. She hears him sigh. He doesn't move for several moments but eventually he gets off the bed and moves back to the chair allowing Rose to move away from Martha and lay more comfortably on the bed.

XX

Several hours later, Rose is awoken by a scream after what feels like just barely managing to fall asleep.

The Doctor is out of the room before Rose can even open her eyes. Martha sits up beside her and follows the Doctor. Rose is just behind her. The scream had come from Shakespeares room Rose realizes after following the commotion. When she enters the room the Doctor is kneeling beside a body. Rose stumbles back with a gasp. Dolly was laying on the ground, dead.

Her heart gave out. She died of fright.

"Doctor?" Martha calls out from beside the window. She is staring at something outside but Rose can't see what it is.

The Doctor meets her by the window. "What did you see?"

"A witch," Martha says. Rose blinks. That had not been what she was expecting.

The Doctor turns around. He looks at Rose confusion written all over his face.

Martha yawns and announces to the room, "Well, I'm still tired. We can talk about this in the morning, right?"

"Right you are, Martha Jones!" the Doctor shouts enthusiastically. Rose cringes at the loud noise before making her way to the chair across from Shakespeare. Despite being woken up after only a few hours of sleep Rose is not feeling tired at all. She hadn't been tired when they had first gone to the room and after her nap she was feeling wide awake.

Martha brushes past two men as she exits the room, presumably heading back to the room.

"Are you alright?" Rose asks Shakespeare softly. He is still looking shaken.

"I'll be fine," he tells her with a small smile. Rose nods and pats his hand that rests on the desk comfortingly. The Doctor sits down in the chair next to Rose.

"Well, if you need anything at all just let me know," Rose tells him hoping to make him feel better.

"Thank you, my dear."

"Rose, you should probably get back to bed," the Doctor interjects before Rose could respond.

Rose scowls at him before telling him, "I'm fine."

"Rose." He shoots her a warning look. "Sleep is important. And we have a mystery to solve tomorrow. I want you in tiptop shape so that you can point out all of the things that I miss."

He smiles at her responding laugh." Doctor, really, I'm fine. I'm not tired."

The Doctor sighs before nodding his head in compliance to Rose's wishes. Rose curls up in the chair as the Doctor and Shakespeare continue to talk in soft tones. She allows her mind to wander and before she knows it, she is falling asleep in the chair despite her precious statement. She really hadn't thought she was all that tired.

She is briefly awoken when she is being pulled from the chair and into someones arms. The Doctor. Rose can tell by the way he smells. Like banana's, something metallic, and something Rose can only describe as time.

Without a thought Rose snuggles closer to him. She loved being held by him. Vaguely, she heard someone say, "Don't let that one go." She's not sure who they are talking to or what they are talking about so she allows her mind drift back into a deeper sleep.

XX

Rose wakes up to the rising sun peeking through the window. Beside her, Martha stirs but doesn't waken. Rose slides off the bed and grabs her clothes that had been folded and neatly placed on the chair by the window.

She quickly dresses before kneeling beside Martha and shaking her arm hesitantly. "Martha," Rose whispers. Martha stirs opening her eyes. "I think you should get ready. Don't want the Doctor going stir crazy.

A laugh slips past Martha's lips before she pushes herself into a sitting position. "Where is the Doctor?" Martha asks.

"I don't know. Probably with Will," Rose tells her. It's the best she can figure after last night. Combined with the Doctor's small obsession with the author that was the most likely place he would be.

Martha quickly gets dressed and follows Rose to said authors room. Sure enough Shakespeare sits behind his desk and the Doctor stands near the window.

Shakespeare looks up tiredly when the girls enter the room. "Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey. She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place when we all ran like rats. But what could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit," he mourns.

The Doctor quotes to him, "Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Shakspeare nods thoughtfully and replies, "I might use that."

The Doctor shakes his head and responds, "You can't. It's someone else's."

Martha says, "But the thing is, Lynley drowned on dry land, Dolly died of fright, and they were both connected to you." Isn't that what Rose had said last night? Rose shook the thought away. It didn't matter.

Shakespeare recoiled looking offended, "You're accusing me?"

"No." Martha shakes her head energetically, "but I saw a witch, big as you like, flying, cackling away, and you've written about witches."

"I have? When was that?" Shakespeare scrunches up his face.

The Doctor comes up behind Martha and tells her quietly, "Not, not quite yet." He's not all that quiet because Rose can still hear him all the way across the room. She rolls her eyes. Subtlety is not the Doctor's strong suit.

"Peter Streete spoke of witches," Shakespeare mentions, offhandedly.

"Who's Peter Streete?" Rose asks.

"Our builder. He sketched the plans to the Globe," the author informs the room.

The Doctor's face lights up in realization, "The architect. Hold on. The architect! The architect! The Globe! Come on!" He rushes out of the room. Rose, Martha, and Shakespeare scramble after him. Rose hitches her dress up as she races down the stares and out the door. The Doctor is already down the street. Rose huffs before taking off after him. She really hates these dresses. Not practical for their life style at all.

XX

The Doctor is in the center of the globe by the time Martha and Rose manage to make it there panting for breath. He is spinning around in circles trying to look everywhere at once. Rose stops and stares at him. He's so freakin' gorgeous.

The Doctor makes one last spin before turning to Shakespeare. "The columns there, right? Fourteen sides. I've always wondered, but I never asked. Tell me, Will. Why fourteen sides?"

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

The Doctor presses the heels of his hands to his forehead and mutters, "Fourteen. Why does that ring a bell? Fourteen."

"There's fourteen lines in a sonnet," Martha offers. Rose is once again feeling out of her depth.

The Doctor nods considering her words, "So there is. Good point. Words and shapes following the same design. Fourteen lines, fourteen sides, fourteen facets." He starts hitting his forehead hoping to spur some new ideas, "Oh, my head. Tetradecagon. Think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!"

Shakespeare inserts disbelievingly, "This is just a theatre."

"Oh yeah, but a theatre's magic, isn't it? You should know. Stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis a the right time. Oh, you can make men weep, or cry with joy. Change them. You can change people's minds just with words in this place. But if you exaggerate that." He trails off.

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

The Doctor turns to Martha with a look on his face that breaks Rose's heart. "Oh. Oh, Martha Jones, I like you. Tell you what, though. Peter Streete would know. Can I talk to him?" Martha smiles back at him, completely charmed.

"You won't get an answer. A month after finishing this place, lost his mind," Shakespeare tells the Doctor sadly.

"Why? What happened?" Rose asks, concerned.

"Started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled," he tells her. Something about that bothered Rose. The timing seemed to good.

The Doctor wasn't about to give up. "Where is he now?"

"Bedlam," Shakespeare responds, solemnly.

"What's Bedlam?" Martha asks.

Shakespeare tells her, "Bethlem Hospital. The madhouse." Whatever the madhouse was like in this time, Rose could tell it wasn't going to be pretty.

The Doctor nods before making his way out of the Globe, "We're going to go there. Right now. Come on."

"Wait! I'm coming with you." Shakespeare follows him, "I want to witness this at first hand." He stops to give some instructions to two boy that had entered the Globe.

Rose hurries after the Doctor and Martha. Seconds later Shakespeare catches up to them. "So, tell me of Freedonia, where women can be doctors, writers, actors."

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

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

Rose chuckles at the look on Martha's face. "Whoa, Nelly. I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country."

Shakespeare tells her in a low voice, "But Martha, this is Town."

This time Rose laughs loudly, "Oh, you're as bad as Jack."

The Doctor slows down enough to stand by Rose and tell her, "No one is as bad as Jack."

"Are you sure?" Rose raises her eyebrows.

The Doctor doesn't respond instead he turns to Shakespeare and says, "Come on. We can all have a good flirt later."

Shakespeare turns his flirtatious voice on the Doctor and asks, "Is that a promise, Doctor?

The Doctor stops in his tracks and mumbles, "Oh, fifty seven academics just punched the air. Now move!" Rose has no idea what that is supposed to mean but she follows after him.