Restored

The Shakespeare Code

"No, we're not!" He argues back, continuing to charge forward. Raelle stops in the street, hands on hips, watching him run. A few seconds later, he rushes back in the other direction, grabbing ahold of her hand as they run. "We're going the wrong way!" They finally see the Globe in the distance, a red glow emerging in the sky surrounding the theatre. They share a worried look as they race towards it. "Stage door!" The Doctor calls to Raelle as they make their way there. 

The Doctor and Raelle enter the backroom, finding Shakespeare just waking up, with Martha beside him.

"Stop the play. I think that was it. Yeah, I said, stop the play!" The Doctor shouted at the pair of them, frustrated. 

"The witches took control!" Martha argued, glaring at the Doctor.

"I hit my head." Shakespeare added, groaning slightly as he sat up. 

"Yeah, don't rub it, you'll go bald." The Doctor snarked back, a huge sound of thunder rumbling the theatre. "I think that's my cue!" He sprinted out the door with Raelle, as Martha grabs Shakespeare to follow. The Doctor and Raelle run out onto the stage, followed by Martha and Shakespeare, facing the witches in the top balcony. The witch holds the crystal out into the red light and bat-like creatures fly into the theatre, flying up into the sky.

"Come on, Will! History needs you!" The Doctor grabbed Shakespeare, pushing him forward on the stage. 

"But what can I do?" He asked, bewildered.

Raelle ran a hand through her hair, stressed. "Reverse it!" She told him.

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"The shape of the Globe gives words power, but you're the wordsmith, the one true genius. The only man clever enough to do it." The Doctor encouraged him.

"But what words? I have none ready!"

"You're William Shakespeare!" The Doctor argued, throwing his hands in the air in defeat.

Shakespeare pointed up to the witches before them. "But these Carrionite phrases, the need such precision."

"Trust yourself. When you're locked away in your room, the words just come, don't they, like magic. Words of the right sound, the right shape, the right rhythm. Words that last forever. That's what you do, Will. You choose perfect words. Do it. Improvise." The Doctor told him intently, encouraging him to help. He stood back, as Martha and Raelle watched as Shakespeare started to speak. 

"Close up this din of hateful, dire decay, decomposition of your witches' plot." Shakespeare bellowed to the witches. "You thieve my brains, consider me your toy. My doting Doctor tells me I am not!"

"No! Words of power!" One of the witches bellowed in fear. 

"Foul Carrionite spectres, cease your show! Between the points-" He paused, looking at the Doctor for help.

"Seven six one three nine oh!"

"Seven six one three nine oh! Banished like a tinker's cuss, I say to thee-" He looked at the Doctor for help, who stuttered. Martha stepped forward. 

"Expelliarmus!" She shouted, the first words popping into her head. 

"Expelliarmus!" Raelle and the Doctor bellowed in unison.

"Expelliarmus!" Shakespeare bellowed, causing the Carrionites to scream. 

"The deep darkness! They are consumed!" The witch cried out as the Carrionites are sucked into a tornado, along with all the extant pages of the play.

"Love's Labour's Won. There it goes." Raelle added, watching as the sky clears with a flash. The group stand there, bewildered, trying to catch their breath from what they had just witnessed. After a few moments, someone in the audience starts clapping, then all the audience joins in.