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Chapter 4: Davy Jones' Locker

When the Doctor woke up he was surprised to find his clothes and hair completely dry and for a moment he thought the mutiny had been nothing but a bad, bad dream. He opened his eyes and realized that he had been wrong. The first thought that went through his mind was that he must have died and gone to heaven, even though he had never really believed that such a place existed. The area surrounding him seemed to be the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes upon although his heart ached at the sight as if he had seen something more beautiful and forgotten about it. Everything he saw had a blueish hue to it, even the soft grass and flowers he was resting on. When he rose into a sitting position and looked around he spotted landscape as far as the eye could see. Mountains in the distance, lakes, fields, a river, a forest. The sheer beauty of it took his breath away. If this wasn't heaven, what else could it be?

And yet there was something in the back of his mind, like a word at the tip of his tongue that he almost had but could never quite find. A thought. Something he had forgotten that was desperately trying to be remembered by him. Beautiful. Something beautiful. But what could be more beautiful than this?

The Doctor rose to his feet and started to make his way across the meadow and down the small hill when he spotted a group of other people sitting around a fire. One of them was playing a cheerful tune on a violin while the others talked and drank and ate and celebrated and the Doctor decided to approach them. He felt thirsty to the point that it was giving him a headache.

"Hey stranger," a woman's voice called out for him from among the celebrating people, "You're new, right? Why don't you join us?"

His feet carried him to the fire before he had even made up his mind about it. There was something so inviting about them all that he couldn't resist. And he was so thirsty.

"Where are we?" the Doctor found himself asking as he was handed a cup of ale. He took a sip and thought he had never tasted anything more delicious in his entire life. Even though he emptied the cup in one go it did little to quench his thirst. He held out the empty cup and the woman refilled it.

"Well, we're in Valhalla, of course," she told him with a smile, "Where else would we be?"

"Yes, makes sense," he replied absent-mindedly before he downed his second cup. Still his throat felt as dry as a desert. Then he remembered something. Pain. There had been a lot of pain. He shouldn't be drinking.

"Here," the woman smiled as she refilled his cup again. Why did that ring a bell in his mind? "Have another cup. We have every reason to celebrate."

Then again, one more cup surely couldn't hurt.

The Doctor woke up with a headache and found that he was alone, the fireplace cold and deserted as if there hadn't been any fire at all in days. The people, the violin, the food and the drinks were gone and the Doctor suddenly couldn't tell how many days had passed since his arrival. They had drunk and eaten and celebrated for what seemed like a week and yet he didn't even know their names. Their faces were already beginning to fade from his memory.

When he got up to resume his walk down the hill he felt a little unsteady on his feet. Yes, he shouldn't have been drinking. Someone had told him that some time in a previous life and yet he had because it seemed to have made sense then. Now it didn't make any sense anymore. The Doctor had come here for a purpose, one he didn't remember, and the longer he stayed the further away it seemed. Something beautiful. He needed to remember.

"Help! Somebody help!"

The Doctor shot around and saw that the water of the lake was ruffled and that there was someone in the water and they were drowning.

He didn't think twice before he broke out into a run and jumped into the water where a young boy had overturned with his fishing boat.

"Please! I can't swim!"

The Doctor reached him swiftly and closed his arms around the boy. "No worries, I've got you," he told him calmly, "You're safe. Nothing will happen to you."

He gave the boy a moment to calm down, wondering why on earth this seemed so familiar to him. He had jumped in the water. He had wanted to get to someone. Why couldn't he remember the rest?

"Thank you," the boy said, still panting from the shock and the Doctor diverted his attention back to him.

"Can you hold on to my back?" he asked him, "I need my hands free so I can turn your boat back around."

The boy nodded and crawled on the Doctor's back, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around his neck while the Doctor turned the boat back into the right position before helping the boy climb back inside.

When he was truly safe the Doctor pulled the boat back to the beach and they both sank into the sand, taking a series of deep breaths.

"Thank you," the boy said with a smile, "You saved my life."

Save a life. Wasn't that what he had come here for? To save someone? The Doctor shut his eyes, trying to conjure up his memory but there was nothing there at all.

"Don't mention it," the Doctor muttered under his breath, still trying to think about what it was that he kept forgetting.

"My mum is going to beat me," the boy suddenly started sobbing, "I had caught a fish but it escaped and now we'll have nothing to eat."

"Hey, hey, hey," the Doctor tried to shush him, "Your mum is not going to beat you. You almost drowned."

He sniffed. "Yes, she will. She says I'm no good at all and she's right."

The Doctor had always been helpless when it came to children so he simply got up and reached for the boy's fishing rod before he stepped into the boat.

"What are you doing?" the boy asked him curiously.

"I'm going to catch you a fish," the Doctor promised and pushed the boat back into the lake.

The water was crystal clear and it didn't take the Doctor long to catch not only one big fish but three. Happy with his deed he rowed the boat back to where the boy was waiting, looking utterly overjoyed.

"Thank you," the boy beamed at him before he reached for the Doctor's hand, "You have to come home with me. You're going to have dinner with us."

The Doctor stopped dead in his tracks, letting go of the boy's hand. "I'm sorry," he said, "I can't. There is something I need to do."

"What is it?"

He shrugged, a sad smile on his face. "I don't know. I can't remember. I wish I could. It was important, I think."

"Maybe you'll remember over dinner?" the boy suggested happily.

"Yeah," the Doctor breathed when the boy took his hand again, pulling him away from the lake, "Maybe I will."