SPACEMAN AND THE MOON ― doctor who {HIATUS}

twenty-nine ; the shakespeare code part three

chapter twenty-nine ; the shakespeare code

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"COLUMNS THERE, RIGHT, AND FOURTEEN SIDES," the Doctor spoke quietly to himself as they stood in the middle of The Globe.

Usually, Luna had some idea what he was talking about, or could figure it out before his grand explanation: but currently? She was missing a few clues and had no idea.

"Do you know what he's on about?" Martha asked her quietly.

Luna shook her head. "Not a fucking clue."

Martha laughed and the Doctor kept talking to himself, figuring it out as fast as his brain would let him. "He's so cute though," Luna added, despite herself. She wanted to be mad at him, but couldn't bring herself to be. At least not when he looked so focused and adorable.

"I've always wondered, but never asked. Tell me, Will, why 14 sides?" The Doctor asked Shakespeare loudly.

"It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all."

"It is odd," Luna agreed, connecting eyes with the Doctor, finally staring up. "No, yeah, it's really strange..."

"Fourteen lines in a sonnet," Martha suggested.

The Doctor nodded. "Yeah, so there is, good point. Words and shapes following the same design."

"But why?" Luna asked, biting her nail in thought. "Fourteen lines, fourteen sides, fourteen facets..."

"My head!" The Doctor exclaimed loudly, rushing up to the stage and staring at Luna. "Sorry, I needed to look at you to make myself feel a bit better."

Luna rolled her eyes. "That doesn't change anything."

"No, but a man can dream. Tetradecagon. Words, letters, numbers, lines!"

"This is just a theatre!" Shakespeare declared.

Luna shook her head, shooting him a sympathetic look. "No, it's not, something's off and we can't figure out what. Something...special about this..."

"Oh, yeah, but a theatre's magic, isn't it?" The Doctor replied harshly. "You should know, you 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."

"Or furious with envy," Luna snarked and the Doctor's shoulders dropped a fraction. "Change them."

"Yeah, that's--that's a good point." His eyes widened. "You can change people's minds just with words in this place. And if you exaggerate that..."

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

"Oh! Oh, Martha Jones, I like you. Tell you what, Peter Streete would know."

"Can we talk to him?" Luna asked.

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

"What happened?"

"He started raving about witches, hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled."

"Where is he now?" The Doctor asked.

"Bedlam."

"What's Bedlam?" Martha asked.

Luna sighed, fury encompassing her stomach. She hated the stories about Bedlam, and her hearts went out to the poor souls that resided there. "It's not good, let's leave it at that."