Hey, you;) Chapter 6 is here!

iluv2read5898: Thanks!:)

Dream I Dare: Good point. It could be done, but I agree. Better to keep Rose from the story, if I can help it (as much as I love her.) At least, until season 4 and The Stolen Earth.

Ruby: Thanks! That's a relief:)

We walked amongst the masses of people trying to exit the theater. It was quite funny, watching the other people's faces as they met the Doctor's height. Whilst Martha and I seemed almost average in stature, he towered over these people.

"I'm not an expert," Martha said, "But I've never heard of 'Loves Labour's Won.'"

"Exactly," The Doctor said slowly, lost in thought. "The lost play. It doesn't exist – only in rumors. It's been mentioned in lists of his plays but it never really turns up. No one knows why."

"Have you got a mini-disk or something? We could tape it. We can flog it. Sell it when we get home and make a mint." Martha asked, excited.

"No," Was the Doctor's reply.

"That would be bad?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not an expert either with this… Shakespeare." I drawled. "But if the play clearly exists, how did it disappear in the first place? We could find out."

"Well," he started, and then sighed, defeated. "I was just gonna give you a quick little trip in the TARDIS, but I suppose we could stay a bit longer."

I grinned, giddy with excitement.

"Well then?" I asked. "Where to now?"

"Now," the Doctor grinned back. "Now we're going to go meet Shakespeare."

Martha let out what sounded suspiciously close to a squeal, and then embarrassedly looked down. Her grin, however, stayed firmly in place.

We made our way to the Elephant Inn, where the Doctor promised us Shakespeare would be.

The Doctor strode in through the hall in front of us, walking like he knew exactly where he was going. He opened a door, grinning like a fool.

"Hello! I'm the-"

The Doctor jumped back and immediately closed the door, eyes wide like saucers and a flush staining his cheeks.

"What?" I asked, amused. "Wrong room?"

He twitched "Umm, yes." Then he shook it off, something I had realized he was very good at. "Come along!"

He walked to the end of the hall, barely even knocking, again, before striding in.

"Hello!" I heard him say. "Excuse me! I'm not interrupting, am I? Mr. Shakespeare, isn't it?"

"Oh no, no, no, no. Who let you in?" Shakespeare said as Martha and I filed in after the Doctor. His eyes were closed, and his hand massaged his forehead. "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-"

His eyes had opened, and now he stared intently in Martha's direction. And, well, mine. No, his eyes were solely trained on me.

Martha's grin was stretching from ear to ear. However, I fidgeted uncomfortably, nervous that one of the biggest geniuses there has ever been (at least, according to the Doctor,) and a very handsome man was staring at me intently.

"Hey, nonny nonny," He breathed. His eyes flickered quickly to Martha before returning to me. "Why don't you two lovely ladies sit down right here next to me?"

He quickly dismissed the other people in the room, - two actors and a barmaid, - before motioning to the chairs in front of his desk.

Martha was positively glowing, the way she jumped to the chair and settled in. The grin on her face had permanently set in. I walked in further into the room, but settled on standing beside the Doctor as he watched Shakespeare, amused, but just a bit suspicious.

Shakespeare was smiling radiantly. "Sweet ladies." His eyes ran over us. "Such unusual clothes. So… fitted."

I crossed my arms. Martha and I both had jeans and shirts covered by jackets. It was a relaxed outfit, but compared to what the women wore here, I couldn't say I was surprised.

"Um, verily, forsooth, egads," Martha rambled.

I had the urge to slap a hand over my face.

The Doctor sighed. "No, no, don't do that. Don't."

He then pulled out a chair and sat down, leaving me no choice but to follow and sit on the third chair, directly in front of Mr. Shakespeare. His eyes tracked my movements and I blushed a little.

The Doctor held a wallet with a piece of paper towards Shakespeare.

"I'm Sir Doctor of TARDIS," he said and I rolled my eyes. "And these are my companions, Miss Martha Jones and Miss Kylie Reynolds."

Shakespeare's eyes flicked over the paper. "Interesting, that bit of paper. It's blank."

The Doctor's face immediately changed. He was impressed, I could tell. "Oh, that's…" he grinned. "Very clever. That proves it. Absolute genius."

Martha and I peered at the paper.

"No, it says so right there. Sir Doctor, Martha Jones, Kylie Reynolds. It says so."

I hummed in agreement, but watched the piece of paper suspiciously. I was almost disappointed that I could read the little paper, unlike the writer. That I wouldn't impress the Doctor like Shakespeare did.

I frowned. That was… interesting. I had not known the Doctor for long. Just a little over a day, more or less. And yet that man was so imposing, so remarkable, he already made me want to impress him. Few could evoke that feeling in me, even less with this intensity.

"And I say it's blank." Shakespeare pressed.

The Doctor addressed Martha and me. "Psychic paper. Um," he paused, frowning. "Long story. Oh, I hate starting from scratch."

"Psychic," Shakespeare wondered. "Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you exactly? More's the point, who is this exquisite beauty?" he asked, his eyes boring into mine.

My own eyes widened. "What?"

He leaned over the desk, a smile playing upon his lips. "Oh, yes. Eyes as clear as the sea and hair such as a raven's. What a striking combination. So tell me, lovely, what are you doing with such a man?" His eyes flickered to the Doctor for a mere second. I could only stare as he spoke, shocked. "I could show you so many things that the lanky fellow couldn't." He smirked, just hints of teeth flashing and I once again thought that this man was incredibly attractive.

However, as seductive as his words appeared, I very much doubted he could ever show me more than the Doctor could. The man had a spaceship that could travel through time and space, what more could a girl ask for?

"Um, no," The Doctor stammered, a bit of a blush painting his cheeks. "She's not with me. She's, umm, -"

"She's okay on her own, thank you very much." I intervened, meeting Shakespeare's eyes. "Thank you, but no thank you, I suppose."

He leaned back again, still smiling. "Ah, a woman with her own mind. I like that."

A man entered the room and interrupted whatever I had thought to say.

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

A small noise from the corner of the room distracted me, and I realized we were not alone in the room as I had first thought. A maid was tidying things up, though at the moment her eyes were trained on Shakespeare.

I frowned, not liking that she had been there the whole time without me noticing.

Shakespeare rolled his eyes. "Tomorrow morning, first thing. I'll send it 'round."

"I don't work to your schedule," The Master of the Revels growled. "You work to mine. The script, now!"

"I can't," Shakespeare bit out.

"Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled."

From the corner of my eye, I saw the maid leave.

"I'm returning to my office for a banning order," The rude man continued. "If it's the last thing I do, 'Love's Labours Won' will never be played."

With that, he turned on his heel and left.

There was a brief silence as I leaned back on my chair. My eyes met Shakespeare's for a second, though he looked lost in thought.

"Well, then. Mystery solved," Martha said. "That's 'Love's Labours Won' over and done with. Though, I thought it might've been something more, you know… more mysterious."

A scream sounded from the window. We snapped to attention and scrambled to our feet, running out of the Elephant Inn.

The man from before was stumbling around, his hands wrapped around his neck as he spit out water. It didn't end, though. Every time he opened his mouth, more and more water came out.

"It's the Master of the Revels bloke!" Martha exclaimed.

"What's wrong with him?" The Doctor wondered out loud. "Leave it to me – I'm a doctor."

Martha followed. "So am I. Well, near enough."

I hovered over the edges, knowing there was no way I could help. Their hands ran over him, trying to find out what was wrong with the man.

It was no use, however. The man slumped over, landing face first on the hard ground. Martha rolled him over, trying to find his heartbeat or a sign of life.

The Doctor caught my attention. He stood off to the side, looking down the street. His eyes flickered everywhere, looking for something.

Martha tried to reassure the fallen man. She even tried to begin CPR. However, as she opened his mouth, only water rushed out.

"What the hell is that?" she asked.

I walked after her, bending my knees next to the body as I ran my eyes over him. "Strange," I muttered.

And strange it was. There was no physical mark on his body. Nothing nearby that could cause him to choke on so much water. One moment he was perfectly fine, - perfectly angry, - and then he was dead. Something else was involved here, though I had no idea what that could be.

"I've never seen a death like it," The Doctor muttered, joining us as he also looked over the body. "His lungs are full of water. He drowned and then… I dunno, like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow."

He stood, wiping of the confusion on his face, and addressed the barmaid.

"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."

The maid from before had joined the barmaid, "I'll do it ma'am," She said.

The Doctor crouched back down beside the body.

"Why did you tell her that?" Martha asked.

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

"But what was it really, then?" I muttered.

The Doctor met my eyes.

"Witchcraft."

We walked back to the Elephant Inn, mine and Martha's feet dragging over the floorboards. We were tired, and even if my sleep cycle differed from human's (I usually slept once every three days,) I had been running on adrenaline close to five days.

"I got you a room, Sir Doctor, though there was only one left." The barmaid told us. "You, Miss Jones, and Miss Reynolds are just across the landing."

Sir Doctor acknowledged her with a nod, but the mood was too grim to smile.

"Poor Lynley," Shakespeare said as he took a seat. "So many strange events. Not least of all, a woman that can be a doctor?" He asked Martha.

"A woman can do what she likes, where I come from." She answered, her eyes steely and head held up high.

"And where would this be, pray tell?"

"Umm, Freedonia."

I could tell that Shakespeare didn't quite believe that part.

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

There was a bit of a stunned silence. I couldn't quite believe what I'd heard. I thought perhaps that I had underestimated Shakespeare.

"I do a lot of reading," was the Doctor's serious reply.

"A trite reply," Shakespeare said, though it sounded as if he approved. "Yeah, that's what I'd do."

The Doctor's lips twitched.

Then Shakespeare's gaze flickered to mine, and I felt as if his eyes bored into mine.

"And you," he paused, looking for the right words. "You see much more than everyone thinks you do, don't you? You look at him," he nodded at the Doctor. "And you see what I do. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me, though I think perhaps you have a better chance of solving him than I do."

I held his gaze, our clear eyes clashing as they met. It was only Martha's words that broke our exchange.

"I think we should say good night." She muttered, before leaving.

"I must work," Shakespeare sighed. "I have a play to complete. But I'll get my answers tomorrow, Doctor, Miss Kylie. And I'll discover more about you and why this constant performance of yours both."

The Doctor stopped at the doorway, a smile playing at his lips. "All the world's a stage."

"Hm, I might use that. Goodnight, Doctor."

"Nighty-night, Shakespeare."

I watched the Doctor go, feeling once again that I was left out of a joke that only he seemed to know.

Shakespeare walked around the desk before he leaned against it, motioning to one of the chairs. I took it.

"What can I do for you, Miss Reynolds?" he asked.

I sighed, and wondered why I had chosen to stay. "You may call me Kylie, if you like."

"Kylie," He said, slowly, like he tasted it. He grinned. "Then you may call me William. Will, if you please."

I smiled back before sobering up. "You say I see more than they think I do. But you, Will. You see more than this entire town combined. And the world will love you for it."

Shakespeare laughed. "If only. But no. I can see the way you looked at your Doctor. He's a riddle you can't wait to unravel. Bit by tiny bits."

I frowned. "I don't think that man can ever be understood. He carries… too much with him."

"Ah, you see?" he asked. "You're already doing it. You will have that man wrapped around your little finger one day, Kylie. And it's already begun. Even as you try to understand him, you intrigue him. You're as much as a mystery to him as he is to you, and you are to me."

"But I don't want him to try to understand me," I complained.

"Everybody carry their secrets, Kylie."

I sighed, frustrated. "I just don't know if he'll hate mine."

He shrugged. "There's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

I shook my head, not willing to risk it. "I should probably let you work."

He shook his head. "I don't mind. You can stay if you like. You can be my muse." He winked.

I stood up, amused. He was not a tall man, maybe only a few inches taller than me.

"You don't need a muse, Will. You have too much, in here." I tapped his forehead with one finger. "I will let you write. Good night, William." I said, and impulsively kissed his scratchy cheek.

He caught my hand before I could turn to leave. He slowly kissed the back of it, without his eyes leaving mine. "Good night, Kylie." Then he smirked. "Dream of me."

I rolled my eyes, but a laugh escaped me.

I walked to the room I would share with the Doctor and Martha, but stopped when I entered. The room was dark, but I could see how they both shared a bed, and that there was barely enough space for a third person.

Martha was deeply asleep; though I saw the Doctor's head rise as I entered.

"Kylie?" He whispered.

"Yeah, it's me, Doctor." I whispered back.

"What did you talk about with Shakespeare?"

I shrugged. "Just wanted to ask him a few things." He shot me a look through the moonlight-illuminated room. "Oh, relax." I rolled my eyes. "I didn't say anything that could change time."

"Good." Then he paused. I deliberated where to sleep, and chose one of the armchairs. "Oh! Wait," The Doctor stopped me. He stood up from the bed. "Use the bed. You'll sleep much more comfortable there, I guarantee it."

I shrugged. "It's okay."

"No, no. Please. I don't think I'm going to get much sleep anyway."

I relented, but only because it seemed that the Doctor did not seem like he would let me have my way. I rested my head against the pillow, and watched as the Doctor made himself comfortable on the armchair.

I don't know how much time passed, but it seemed neither of us could sleep.

I remembered something he'd said, back when Martha had finally entered the TARDIS.

"Are you thinking of her?" I asked, quietly. "That woman. Rose."

There was silence from his direction. Just when I thought he wasn't going to answer, he did, and his voice was infinitely softer. "Yes, I suppose I am."

"Did you love her?" I asked. The silence stretched on, and I could feel his hesitance. "Let me rephrase the question," I finally said, briefly interrupted by a yawn. "Did you have feelings for her?"

"I-," he stuttered. "I, suppose so, yes. Maybe, if we'd have more time, I'd-"

He broke off. His words ran around my head. No wonder he seemed so broken. The last Time Lord had found himself alone again.

"How old are you, Kylie?" He wondered, softly.

"196 years old."

There was a pause. "You still have a way to go, then."

I nodded in the dark.

There was another long silence.

"Tell me about her, Doctor."

I thought maybe this time he would ignore me. However, after a brief hush, his voice finally found a way to my ears.

That night, I fell asleep to the Time Lord's voice. And I dreamt of a blonde girl, with a beautiful, brilliant, smile.