Yes, I'm back! I know it's been two years but I've recently started a rewatch of Nine and Ten's seasons because I've heard great things about Thirteen and want to get back into it. Plus I recently received a couple of reviews and that let me know there were still people reading this story so as long as I still have some interest in this fic I will do my best to finish it!

In case you don't remember, this is a season 3 rewrite to include Rose but with enough twists to keep it different from the original series. One of my pet peeves in rewrites is that they tend to give the inserted character the same lines as a character who was originally in the scene. I try to make it as realistic as possible, in that if a new character is there they are going to think of different solutions, say different things, have people react in different ways because they're around. That being said, it's a very difficult line to find because it needs to be similar enough to follow the plot of each episode, and I hope I've done it justice.

Enough from me, I hope you enjoy this chapter (although I do recommend a reread of the whole story, even I needed one!)

"I can't believe I'm about to talk to William Shakespeare!" Martha exclaimed for what must've been the tenth time.

She knew she should probably tone it down but she was awestruck and far from being annoyed, both the Doctor and Rose were encouraging her. Every time she decided that they were surely sick of her, they pointed out something that excited them and Martha eventually realised that even though they'd done this a thousand times they were still just as enthralled as she was.

"If only my Year 9 English teacher could see me now!" Rose joked, making the man at her side chuckle.

They'd decided to spend the night close to Shakespeare in case anything strange happened ("Which is likely around this one," Rose had confided, causing the Timelord in question to give a disgruntled "Oi!"), and after a bit of asking around they discovered that he was staying in a hotel called 'The Elephant'.

They made their way through the rooms, although Martha was surprised that no one stopped them. The Doctor kept flashing a piece of paper at anyone who gave them funny looks, but she couldn't see what it said.

"I think that's him I hear," Rose whispered as they neared one of the rooms, and sure enough Shakespeare's voice came floating down the hall.

"I've just got the final scene to go. You'll get it by morning," he was saying.

The Doctor beamed at the girls before popping his head round the corner and strolling casually in to where the bard sat with two other men.

"Hello! Excuse me, not interrupting, am I? Mr Shakespeare, isn't it?"

Rose snorted, and Martha bit her lip to stop her own giggle. Shakespeare merely looked exasperated.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. Who let you in? No autographs. No, you can't have yourself sketched with me. And please don't ask where I get my ideas from. Thanks for the interest, now be a good boy and shove – " Martha peeked out from behind the Doctor to get a better look and the bard cut off midsentence. "Hey nonny-nonny. Sit right down here next to me."

He addressed the other men at the table, "You two get sewing on them costumes. Off you go."

"Come on, lads," the barmaid chimed in, patting one of the men on the shoulder. "I think our William's found his new muse."

"Sweet lady," the bard said as Martha made her way to the chair next to him. Was Shakespeare hitting on her?! It was a shame no one back home would believe a word of it.

"And another!" He exclaimed as he caught sight of Rose. Martha hid her smirk as the Doctor stepped not so subtly between his companion and the writer. No way in hell was there nothing going on between them, but she couldn't figure out why they both seemed too stubborn to admit it.

"Such unusual clothes," Shakespeare commented, eyeing Martha's red leather jacket. "So fitted."

She figured she should probably say something so she blurted out the first few words of Elizabethan English that came to mind.

"Um, verily, forsooth. Egads!"

Rose was shaking with barely contained laughter.

"No, no, don't do that," the Doctor said warningly, looking mildly horrified. "Don't."

He flashed the piece of paper he'd been holding before at Shakespeare and this time Martha was close enough to read her own name, along with her friends', written in official looking print.

"I'm Sir Doctor of Tardis and these are my companions, Dame Rose Tyler and Miss Martha Jones."

"Interesting, that bit of paper," Shakespeare noted. "It's blank."

Rose gaped and the Doctor grinned in delight. "Oh, that's… very clever. That proves it. Absolute genius."

Martha doubled checked the piece of paper, but the words were definitely still visible.

"No, it says right there," she corrected, confused. "Sir Doctor, Dame Rose, and Martha Jones. It says so."

Shakespeare leant forward and met her eyes. "And I say it's blank," he insisted.

"Psychic paper. Um, ah, long story. Oh, I hate starting from scratch," the Doctor whined.

"Oi, don't be rude!" Rose chastised.

"Psychic?" Shakespeare interrupted warily. "Never heard that before, and words are my trade. Who are you exactly? More to the point, who is your delicious blackamoor lady?"

"What did you say?" Martha replied, shocked.

"Oops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A Swarth? A Queen of Afric?" The bard suggested.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Martha said incredulously.

"It's political correctness gone mad," the Doctor agreed, rubbing his eye. "Um, Martha's from a far-off land. Freedonia."

Rose looked ready to say something, but before she had the chance a robed man with a large red beard barged into the room.

"Excuse me! Hold hard a moment," he called indignantly. "This is abominable behaviour. A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script, Mister Shakespeare. As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed."

"Tomorrow morning," Shakespeare dismissed. "First thing, I'll send it round."

"I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine. The script, now!" Demanded the man.

"I can't," Shakespeare spat out.

"Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled," the bearded man announced savagely.

Martha raised her eyebrows at the exchange. "It's all go around here, innit?"

"I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the last thing I do, Love's Labour's Won will never be played!"

Rose cringed and muttered, "I hate when people say stuff like that."

"That was Mister Lynley, Master of the Revels," Shakespeare informed them bitterly after the man had stormed out. "And a right pain up my backside, no less."

"Here we are then," the barmaid bustled back into the room, placing fresh goblets of wine in front of the three guests before drifting out again, taking the dirty mugs with her.

"Thank you, Dolly!" Shakespeare called gratefully after her retreating form.

He indicated to the wine and Martha took a small sip, surprised at how nice it was.

"Well then, mystery solved," she said, lowering the mug. "That's Love's Labour's Won over and done with. Thought it might be something more, you know, more mysterious."

"You and me both," Rose agreed, just as a loud shout rang out, which was rapidly followed by a scream.

Martha shot up at the same time as Shakespeare while the Doctor and Rose had already bolted to the door.

"Help! Help me!" Cried a woman's voice as a man screamed nearby.

The four of them raced down the stairs to see a man clutching his chest and spitting out an impossible amount of water.

"It's that Lynley bloke," Martha realised.

Rose moved forward first and the Doctor wasn't far behind.

"Leave it to me. I'm a doctor," he announced to the crowd that had gathered around them.

"So am I," Martha added, joining the other two's attempts to keep the man upright as he continued to spit out water. "Near enough."

Without warning, Lynley collapsed, and Martha was vaguely aware that the Doctor had moved away and Rose was hovering back uncertainly.

"Got to get the heart going," she muttered to herself as she checked for life signs. "Mr Lynley, come on. Can you hear me? You're gonna be alright."

She pinched his nose and prepared to resuscitate him but water bubbled up out of his mouth and she knew it would be useless.

"What's goin' on, Doctor?" Rose asked urgently as the Time Lord made his way back to Martha's side.

"I've never seen a death like it. His lungs are full of water. He drowned and then… I don't know, like a… blow to the heart, an invisible blow."

The Doctor stood up suddenly and turned to Dolly, who was standing closest to them. Martha could see by the way he wiggled his fingers he was making things up as he told her, "Good mistress, this poor fellow has died from a sudden imbalance of the humours. A natural, if unfortunate, demise. Call a constable and have him taken away."

"Yes sir."

"I'll do it, ma'am," a girl said quickly.

Both the Doctor and Rose crouched down beside Martha.

"You were just pulling that out of your arse," Rose accused in a whisper, but she was grinning at him.

"Oh but I'm so good at it," the Doctor smirked.

"Luckily for you," she responded with a cheeky smile.

"Why did you tell them that?" Martha asked, not in the mood for their flirting at the moment.

"This lot still have got one foot in the Dark Ages," the Doctor replied somberly. "If I tell them the truth, they'll panic and think it was witchcraft."

She felt a rush of short-lived relief at words – at least that meant he knew how Lynley had died.

"Okay, what was it then?" She prodded.

"Witchcraft."

Wonderful.

x

They made their way back to Shakespeare's study in silence.

"I got you a room, Sir Doctor," Dolly informed him. "Just the one, mind, we're too busy to give you a second. You're all just across the landing."

"Thank you," Rose said, subdued but appreciative.

"Poor Lynley," Shakespeare sighed as Dolly left. The Doctor knew that even though the bard hadn't liked the man it didn't mean Shakespeare wanted him dead. "So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?"

"Where a woman can do what she likes," Martha defended.

Shakespeare turned his attention to Rose and the Doctor was instantly on guard, although for what he was not entirely sure.

"There is more to you then meets the eye, I suspect. There is sorrow in your soul, a grief that I am well acquainted with."

Rose drew in a shaky breath at the reminder and the Doctor slipped a hand into hers. She squeezed it tightly and leant into him for support.

"And you, Sir Doctor," Shakespeare continued. "How can a man so young have eyes so old?"

"I do a lot of reading," he answered carefully, not willing to give anything away, and this time it was Rose's turn to lend him tacit comfort through their linked hands.

"A trite reply, yeah. That's what I do," Shakespeare nodded understandingly before gazing at the Doctor's hand intertwined with Rose's. "Yet you drop the act for her."

He glanced up and spoke to Martha once more. "And you? You look at the pair of them like you're surprised they exist. They're as much of a puzzle to you as they are to me."

"I think we should say goodnight," Martha decided, evading the observation nicely.

"I must work," Shakespeare resolved once she'd gone. "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."

"All the world's a stage," he said, moving to the door with Rose.

"Nice," she whispered and he grinned at her.

"Hmm. I might use that," Shakespeare said thoughtfully. "Goodnight, Doctor. Dame Rose."

"Nighty night, Shakespeare."

"G'night."

"Oh, and Doctor?" The author called after them, causing both to turn towards him curiously.

"He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a Wolf," the bard warned, with a meaningful look at Rose. The Doctor felt as though he'd been dunked in a bucket of ice water. He recognized the words – they were from King Lear, which hadn't been written yet – but Rose's connection to them was unclear.

"What did you say?" She demanded, and the Doctor caught the slight tremor of fear in her voice.

Shakespeare merely shrugged at her. The Doctor swallowed past the lump in his throat to say, "Let's get to the room, Rose."

"Yeah…okay," she agreed hesitantly.

"What did he mean?" Rose asked nervously as they walked into their room, where Martha was exploring with a candle and glanced up at their entrance.

"I'm not sure," he admitted with a frown.

"But… it can't have anything to with – with Bad Wolf, could it?" She bit her lip, worried.

"Hey," he assured her softly. "I'm sure it's fine."

She nodded, trusting him, and he felt guilty for lying to her. It was not fine by a long shot, but neither of them knew what it meant and there was no point her stressing about it. He'd do enough of that for both of them. Hopefully he'd be able to work out what it meant before anything came of it.

Rose took a deep breath and asked Martha a little too brightly, "So what's the verdict on the room?"

"It's not exactly five star, is it?" The woman grimaced. It wasn't the most comfortable location. There was one double bed that looked like it would barely fit two people, and a second, single rickety bed was pushed into the corner. The wardrobe was big, though, and the room looked relatively clean.

"Oh, it'll do," the Doctor said, offhand. "We've seen worse."

"Mmm," Rose hummed in agreement, giving Martha a genuine smile this time. "We once had to sleep in a box half the size of a small car, with six other people."

"You're messing with me," their friend doubted.

"It's true! I swear."

Rose launched into the story and by the end of it the Doctor had pushed thoughts of Shakespeare's comment to the back of his mind, and was laughing along with two girls.

Once they'd calmed down Martha sighed slightly. "I haven't even got a toothbrush."

"Oh. Um," the Doctor rummaged through his pockets and one out. "Contains Venusian spearmint. I started carrying them with me after Rose kept nagging."

Rose huffed in annoyance. "We were on that stupid rock planet for two bloody weeks! Do you know how disgusting it is to not be able to brush your teeth for two weeks?!"

"Actually no," he teased smugly. "I only need to brush my teeth every month thanks to my – "

"I'm gonna slap you if you say 'superior Time Lord genes'." Rose warned. "Your breath stunk just as much as mine, I hate to tell you."

Martha snorted, by now sitting on the single bed. "You two don't mind sharing with each other, right?"

"Nah," the Doctor dismissed without thinking about it. "Rose and I share a bed every night."

Rose groaned and Martha raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Doctor, you can't say things like that!" Rose rolled her eyes. "It's no wonder everyone thinks we're a couple."

Personally he didn't see anything wrong with that, but he didn't admit it. Instead, he shot her a sheepish smile.

"Come on, you crazy alien," she laughed, leaping onto the bed, the side closest to Martha's bed.

He kicked off his shoes but left the suit on, climbing next to her and rolling on his back.

"So…" Martha said after a moment. "Magic and stuff. That's a surprise. It's all a little bit Harry Potter!"

"Wait till you read book seven. Oh, I cried."

Rose gasped, "Oh! When Lu – "

"Whoa, whoa!" Martha interrupted, a bit panicky. "I haven't read it yet. Don't spoil it. But is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic and all that, it's real?"

"Course it isn't!" The Doctor admonished.

"Well, how am I supposed to know? I've only just started believing in time travel. Give me a break," Martha smiled and Rose hummed her agreement.

"She's got a point."

"Let's consider this properly," the Doctor said, rambling off his thoughts in an effort to come to a reasonable conclusion. "Looks like witchcraft, but it isn't. Can't be. 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. There's something I'm missing, you two. Something really close, staring me right in the face, and I can't see it."

Rose bolted upright abruptly and he sat up next to her, placing a hand on her arm in concern.

"The woman!" She exclaimed.

"What? What woman?"

"Who?"

"The woman from the theatre, she was the one that offered to call the constable! She was in the room with us earlier! In fact… yes, she did! She disappeared when Lynley left!"

"I'm not following," Martha said, "Who is she?"

"I don't know, but I noticed her at the theatre – she was sitting on her own and when I saw her I got this weird feeling."

"What kind of feeling?" The Doctor questioned.

"Sort of… uneasy."

"Rose, why didn't you point her out to me?" He worried for a moment that she was shutting him out, but her answer was so sweet that his fears were instantly assuaged.

"You were having so much fun. She wasn't doing anything, either, just being, you know, generally spooky. I didn't want to bother you."

"You never bother me," he told her sincerely, and received a small smile in return.

He held her gaze for a long moment until Martha cleared her throat loudly and he realised how close their faces had gotten.

"Okay lovebirds. You can wait 'til we're not in mortal danger, thanks."

Rose blushed. "Anyway, I recognised her when we walked up to Shakespeare's table but I was going to wait so that we were somewhere private before I mentioned it. Then Shakespeare's stupid wolf comment threw me off, so I forgot about her until now."

The Doctor settled back down on the pillows and Rose followed suit.

"Well, now we've got a lead at least. We'll find her first thing in the morning – no point looking now, no one'll be able to help us this late. Night, all."

"G'night. Night, Martha."

"Goodnight you two," Martha replied, blowing out the candle so that they were plunged into darkness.

Normally the Doctor would've stayed up thinking about Lynley's death, but with Rose warm in his arms, and the knowledge that they had something to investigate tomorrow (coupled with the fact that he hadn't slept last night because of the emotional goodbye to Rose's family), he drifted off into a light doze.

x

The Doctor woke to soft murmuring. He kept his eyes shut as the sounds reached him, and they soon transformed into words that he let wash over him, still half asleep.

"… left school at 16?"

"Yeah," a voice that the Doctor would recognise anywhere as Rose's sighed quietly. "Because of a boy, of all things. I was so stupid."

"We all make mistakes," Martha assured her.

"I guess."

There was silence for so long that the Doctor couldn't tell whether they'd stopped talking, or he'd fallen back to sleep for a few minutes.

"I once thought it would be a good idea to microwave my brother's favourite plastic toys for research purposes."

Rose's voice was light with amusement as she asked, "And what'd you find out?"

"That radiation could melt a group of toy footballers – and that the smell of burnt plastic stays in a house for three weeks."

Rose laughed. "I'm sure your family was happy with you."

"Oh yeah," Martha responded with equal teasing sarcasm. "I was particularly popular with Leo."

"I'll bet."

"You're lucky you don't have siblings," Martha joked.

The Doctor felt Rose stiffen beside him and, now wide awake, prepared to feign waking up if it sounded like she needed him.

"Why…" she started shakily, before clearing her throat and saying in a much more controlled voice. "What makes you think I don't have any?"

"At the hospital," Martha answered, sounding confused. "When I thought I'd just seen the two of you outside I asked if –" She broke off with a sharp intake of breath as she realised, "The Doctor answered that, not you… I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it."

"S'alright," Rose answered softly. A moment's pause before: "Tony. I have… I mean had, a baby brother, Tony."

"I'm sorry," Martha apologized again.

"Not your fault. And anyway, he's not dead," her voice cracked at the distressing thought.

"Oh," Martha responded in surprise. The Doctor heard her hesitate slightly before she added, "I don't want to pry, so you can tell me to butt out if you like, but if he's still alive then ..?"

"He's in another universe, a parallel universe, with my parents and my best mate from when I was a kid. There's no way to reach 'em. I was trapped over there for a few years and I've only just found my way back but we're still not sure how. Can't risk bringing them here without destroying both worlds, even if we did know. I got to say goodbye to them though, which was good." Her voice was thick with emotion by the time she finished.

"Last night," Martha guessed quietly. Rose must have looked surprised because the other girl added, "The Doctor told me you'd just lost everyone you loved the most in the world."

"Well," Rose corrected softly. "Almost everyone."

So gently that the Doctor almost didn't feel it, Rose started playing with his hair absently. He was almost convinced that he was still asleep.

"So what's your family like?" She asked Martha after a minute. To the Doctor's great disappointment she stopped fiddling with his hair.

"My sister Tish, my brother Leo, his girlfriend and daughter, mum, dad, dad's girlfriend Annalise. You saw most of them when you came to get me? Well that's pretty much how they act all the time. Everyone gets pulled in different directions and it's hard to keep the peace."

"Sounds exhausting!" Rose exclaimed, and Martha laughed.

"It gets a bit frustrating sometimes," she admitted. "But I love them."

"I can't imagine life like that… I grew up with just mum and Mickey."

"Must've been peaceful," Martha replied, with a hint of wistfulness.

"Yeah, it was," Rose admitted, chuckling. "Although it got pretty lonely at times. But then I met the Doctor."

The Doctor felt her shrug from where she was half-sitting, half-lying next to him. Did that mean he'd made her feel like she wasn't alone? He hoped so. She'd certainly done that for him, time-ravaged and fresh from the War as he was.

"How'd you two meet then?"

"He blew up my work."

"He did not!"

"He did."

Both girls started to giggle, which soon turned into outright laughter.

"So, I don't get it," Martha said after the laughter died down. "Why aren't you two, you know, together?"

The Doctor couldn't remember ever feeling this nervous, which was quite an achievement considering his admittedly hectic life. But this is where he'd finally hear Rose say it. How she didn't want to be anything more than best friends, how she loved him (because there wasn't a doubt in his mind that she loved him) but only as one loved a good book. A number of other, equally terrifying, possibilities ran through his mind as he waited for her response.

"Oh, no!" Rose laughed. "We're not getting into that can of worms. If I do it'll turn out just like in the films where the guy is actually awake and listening to every word the girl says and she ends up having just spilled her guts to him."

The Doctor couldn't help it, his lips quirked up into a smile.

There was a moment's silence in which he thought he'd gotten away with his little slip-up, before Rose shouted, "OH MY GOD, YOU BLOODY ARE! YOU'RE AWAKE!"

"Shhhhh," he mumbled, keeping his eyes closed. He could hear Martha cracking up in the background. "There are people trying to sleep here."

"I don't believe it!" Rose hissed, and the Doctor knew her lowered voice was less for his benefit than those in the rooms next-door. "You were listening in?"

He cracked open one eye and peeked at her. "Maybe?" he admitted sheepishly.

He attempted to duck (unsuccessfully) as she aimed a pillow at his face. "For how long?"

"Only about a minute," he lied.

"Bloody alien git," she mumbled under her breath.

Before she had the chance to say anything else, or perhaps murder him, a loud scream pierced through the night.

Fun fact: I know from experience that the smell of microwaved plastic does stay in a house for three weeks :p

Please review! Knowing that people are interested keeps me posting :)