~SEVEN~

Donna, in the meantime, was standing in front of her wardrobe, wondering what to wear. It was not that she hadn't brought enough clothes – in fact, she'd even brought too much. There had still been no occasion where she could possibly wear a woman's hat. Even so, with half her wardrobe to chose from, she could not think of something fitting to the Caribbean heat without appearing totally inappropriate. She liked dressing up according to the time, but she supposed she wouldn't find a shop anywhere round here.

The Doctor, of course, had offered her free use of his own extensive wardrobe. Why he would keep so many clothes if he wore the same three suits over and over again, Donna wouldn't know, and she didn't really care to find out.

In the end, she selected brown trousers, a white blouse, and then did climb up the spiral staircase to take a look at the Doctor's costumes. There were no women's clothes, of course, and neither could she see the suits the Doctor used to wear. Instead, she discovered a strangely-looking brownish hat with a red stripe, and a scarf that was far too long. But then, on top of a pile of clothes, she discovered just what she'd been looking for without knowing it.

She found the Doctor in the control room where she'd left him, sitting on the leather bench with his plimsolls resting on the console edge and watching the central column rise and fall, once in a while glancing at the screen.

"What do you think?" she asked, waving her new hat. It was a round, broad-felt brown hat, with a largish feather on top. With her simple blouse, the brown trousers and her boots she almost looked like a pirate now.

The Doctor grinned. "Very pirate-y."

"How's it going?" She flopped down on the bench beside him. "Oi, butch over a bit."

He moved to make room for her on the bench. "Oh, it's going splendid. Well, fine. Well, I say fine... I s'ppose it could go better."

"What's the matter?"

"The TARDIS is having a hard time pinpointing the ship – any ship. It's like the ocean below us has been wiped clean of them when it should be teeming with ships."

"So we're flying above the Caribbean sea?" Donna jumped to her feet and approached the door, flicking it open, only to jump back and grasp the handrail for safety. "Blimey!"

The TARDIS's flight had never been exactly steady, and she still had a feeling of being perfectly safe on her feet and upright, but to see the blue and green ocean fill the entire view messed with her equilibrium.

"Yeah, sorry. TARDIS stabilisation generators. Wait a sec..." The Doctor punched a button that seemed to belong on a suit rather than on the console of a space ship, and the impossible view shifted into a more upright position. The ocean now stretched towards the horizon, glittering brilliant in the sun, while far to the right, Donna spotted a couple of green specks that could have been islands.

"The TARDIS has stabilisation filters?" She slowly let go of the handrail and inhaled the salty breeze.

"Course it does! How would you expect to stand upright if it hadn't?" The Doctor joined her by the door and admired the view.

"So that's the Bermuda Triangle."

"Its outer regions, yeah. Of course it's not called that now, nor is there any mystery about it, not yet, anyway. It's just another part of the Caribbean."

"And yet your taking us into its centre, am I right?"

The Doctor rubbed his neck again. "Pretty much, yeah."

"Mind telling me why?"

"Something's been messing with the TARDIS, and nothing in this period of time should be able to do that. In fact, nothing should be able to do that. So whatever it is, it's not good. That, and the ships disappearing."

"Ships?" Donna echoed.

"Yeah. Apparently, it's not just the Pearl. Like I said, you should find hundreds of ships down there – instead, not a single one."

"So where have they gone?"

"That's what we are going to find out." The Doctor grinned at her, and Donna felt the familiar surge of adventure.

"Enough of the view, Donna?"

"Yeah."

The Doctor lent forward and pulled the door shut, walking back to the console, hands in his pockets. "Interesting fellow, your pirate, by the way."
"Captain Jack Sparrow?"

"Yeah. I knew another Captain Jack once, but he was nothing like him – anyway, interesting compass he has there. Says it shows him what he wants most."

Donna laughed. "That's nonsense, right? I mean, it's probably just broken."

The Doctor made a soft humming noise and fiddled with the console.

"He can't really have a compass that points to what he wants most. Doctor, this is the flipping seventeenth century!"

"Eighteenth."

"Never mind! There's no technology, right? Is there?"

"Shouldn't be. The device's genuine, though. Works for everyone, apparently, but won't point to the Pearl."

"Did Gibbs tell you this? Because if he did, I wouldn't give a penny's worth-"

"No, I soniced it." The Doctor dug the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, flipping it about thoughtfully. "Could have been thrown back in time. I knew a species once that could read your very heart's desire just by looking at you... There should be a rift somewhere hereabouts – probably at the centre of the Bermuda Triangle, come to think of it. Perhaps it got wider over the time, swallowing ships and even aircrafts."

"Well, if it is alien, then perhaps it's Sparrow's fault. Perhaps he doesn't know what he wants."

"Oh, he does. His ship is his home. He wouldn't give her up for anything."

"Like yourself, you mean."

The Doctor didn't say anything, and Donna figure she probably shouldn't dig deeper.

"So, about that rift – is it dangerous?"

"Nah! Used to visit the rift in Cardiff regularly! It's fuel for the TARDIS – not that she really needs it very often, just for long range trips... Just occasionally things come through."

"Things."

"Yeah, like Jack's compass."

"Oh, yes, about Jack..."

"Hmmm?"
"How can he even be here?"

The Doctor looked at her, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"He is Captain Jack Sparrow! Captain Jack Sparrow! He is a fictional character! How can a fictional character be walking around history? You said when we visited Agatha Christie... Tell me Johnny Depp is not a time traveller."

"Johnny Depp is not a time traveller," the Doctor said, grinning. "It's probably the rift. Ideas bleeding through time... Probably someone picked them up."

"Right. So you're saying anything can get through that rift."

"Not anything. Well, ghosts, occasionally." The Doctor made a face. "Not an experience I wish to repeat. Anyway, usually it's just little things, or thoughts. Everything else would be pulled apart."

"So it can't really be the reason for the disappearances."

"It might. Things might not get through, but they can still fall into the gap."

"You lost me."

"It's a gap in time and space. Think of it as a... rip in the fabric of reality, a fissure in a large block of ice. It's not a rip, but just think of a rip. You drop something in one end. A small object might come out at the other end, but a larger one might get stuck. That could happen if a ship was right above the fissure."

"Then how do you plan to get her back?"

"I don't. There's no way to pull a ship out of a rift in time and space, and even if there were, it would be torn apart. I'm still hoping it's something else."

"And you explained to me all about rifts and stuff just for fun?"

The Doctor shrugged. "You asked. Anyway, perhaps something did get through, and now it's grown."

Donna sincerely hoped he was kidding. "It doesn't have to be aliens, does it? Perhaps someone just ran away with the Pearl."

"That still leaves the mysterious occurrence with the crew, and the TARDIS."
"Hm." Donna sat down on the leather bench. Frankly, her head was reeling, and she wasn't sure whether she should ask the Doctor about his theories any more until they were confirmed... How he could handle all that in his head, she wouldn't know. "So we couldn't go back to visit Sherlock Holmes, right?"

"Right! Although..."

"No way!"
"I met her, actually. Probably created her, in fact."

"Her?"

"Yes..." The Doctor looked up at the ceiling, lost in his memories. "We go way back... Uh, such a long time. She got rid of Jack the Ripper for me, in return for a favour."

"You've got to be kidding."

He grinned. "Probably."

Donna punched him.

"Ow! That hurts!"

"Stop talking rubbish, then."

Suddenly, the TARDIS screen flashed angrily red, rudely interrupting their friendly banter.

The Doctor whirled around, pulling the screen towards him. "Oh, that's not good. Not good at all."

"What is it?" Donna demanded, sliding off the bench.

The Doctor didn't answer, racing to the opposite side of the console instead, and hitting something with a sledgehammer. It made an ugly dinging noise, as if something had just broken. "What's gotten into you!?"

In response, the TARDIS started shaking violently. Donna grabbed hold of the console. Sparrow and Gibbs came staggering in, both surprisingly sufficient in their movements on the swaying ground, even though none of them stood as firm as the Doctor.

"Doctor! What is it?"

The Doctor raced around the console again, hitting things as he went, then stopping to adjust a series of switches. "Ah, no good... Hold on tight!"

The TARDIS gave a sudden, terrible lurch and Donna was thrown off her feet, lost her grip and slid through under the handrail, then everything dissolved into blackness.

It was still dark when Donna opened her eyes. Her head hurt – she'd probably hit it on something, but to her relief she didn't feel any wound as she prodded the sore area.

It was pitch black in the TARDIS, not even an emergency light flickering – if she still was inside the TARDIS. She felt around. Sure enough, there was the coral structure, and one of the strange boils of the walls stuck uncomfortably into her back. She used the coral to pull herself to her feet and took some careful steps forward until her searching hands found the handrail and she climbed under it, her boots clanging on the mesh floor. She'd lost her hat, but she had more important concerns right now.

"Doctor? Anyone?"

Suddenly, a bright light flooded the console room, and Donna could just make out the black outline of Captain Jack Sparrow standing in the open TARDIS door. Once her eyes had adjusted, she could see the bright circle of the Caribbean sun above them, strangely distorted, as if they were – underwater!

"That's... interesting", Jack remarked.

"You can say that again!" Donna slowly approached the door, but her foot caught on something and she tripped, crashing into the console and pressing several things simultaneously. Nothing stirred. She looked back to find the Doctor lying on the floor where he had supposedly fallen, his arms thrown out as if to grab hold of something and, having failed, now lying limply on the mesh floor. She had tripped over his long legs, trainers sticking up into the air. He was not moving.

Donna knelt down by his side, while Jack sauntered over to his own companion, who was sitting up, groaning.

Donna shook the Doctor by his shoulders, and started back in worry when his head lolled around to face her – his eyes were closed, but his entire face was screwed up in immense concentration, so intense that the sight alone shot a pang of worry through her. Donna had seen the Doctor focussing, concentrating, even being angry before, but never, never had she seen such an expression of anguish, worry and focus at the same time. "Doctor?"

He did not even twitch.

"Doctor!" Donna patted his cheek. "Oi, spaceman, don't you dare, don't you dare do that to me!" She had tried to keep her voice from rising in pitch, but the deep growling sound that reverberated around the TARDIS had caused her to start. She was about to order Jack to close the door, certain that they would be safe inside the TARDIS, when it occurred to her that it would be pitch-black once again should he do so.

She stood, placing a hand on the edge of the TARDIS console. She couldn't feel her as the Doctor did, but she knew that there was some sort of link to her – the Doctor had explained that she was responsible for translating alien languages for her. She hoped that maybe the TARDIS could hear her. Come on, old blue box! What's with the lights? The Doctor needs you!

Donna looked back down at the Doctor's limp form. And so do I, for that matter.

The TARDIS did not exactly spring back to live, but Donna could feel a tiny flicker of energy coursing through her fingertips and suddenly the door snapped shut and a dim light emanated from the TARDIS walls. Donna assumed it was some sort of emergency lighting, which in itself was a bad sign, but she had other things to think of at the moment.

The growling was still there, but lower now, and Donna hoped that it was just the waters crunching against the outer hull – which, she hoped, wasn't really made of wood. She would have appreciated not being trapped on the bottom of the Caribbean sea, though.

"Miss Noble," Jack interrupted her train of thought. "I s'ppose the disadvantage of our situation is that ye have no idea how to command this ship, aye?"

"The disadvantage, dumbo, is the Doctor lying insensible on the floor! Don't tell me you want to fly the TARDIS!"

Jack shrugged. "All ships are essentially the same."

"Well, have a try – but don't you dare break anything!"

Jack grinned and approached the console, surveying the seeming endless and chaotic assortment of switches, buttons and what-nots. He circled the console once, then stopped in front of the view screen and the pump, as Donna called it – she had no idea what it really was supposed to do. "Master Gibbs!"

"Aye, Captain?" Gibbs clambered onto the mesh floor – like Donna, he had been thrown against the walls at the impact, but unlike her was rubbing his apparently sore arm.

"Take the other side." Jack did not wait until his companion was in position, but dug a little box out of his pocket, snapped it open and set it down on the console.
"Oh, that's the compass, yeah? It won't help you, mate." Donna supposed there was no harm in letting the two try – the TARDIS seemed to be low on power anyway, and with the emergency protocols running, she would be able to fend off any ill advised manipulation to her systems.

Instead, she returned to the Doctor's side. The Time Lord was still lying completely still, his face still twisted into that horrible grimace. She took hold of him and dragged him out of reach ere the two pirates trampled on him. For such a skinny guy, he was surprisingly heavy, but she just knew that the TARDIS had arranged for a sickroom to be right around the corner, and she managed to make it that far.

She could still hear Jack giving instructions to Gibbs, while the TARDIS had as yet failed to respond. "You could help me, you know!" she shouted, but none of the pirates came to her aid, but thankfully the TARDIS was more forthcoming.

The sickroom was essentially and empty room with a single bed that could be lowered right down to the floor, which at least saved her from trying to lift the Doctor. She still made a tangle of those long limbs until the Doctor finally rested on the bed and she pushed it up to a normal height. It was disconcerting that in a spaceship there should be no automatic hospital bed, but then perhaps it was because the TARDIS was damaged.

Donna took a look around. There was a chair, and a pillow, but nothing else – the room was completely barren, its walls imitating the console room's theme on a smooth wall, like a painting, or wallpaper. It was also considerably colder. She couldn't exactly feel comfortable in such an environment, but she trusted that the Doctor did. Or should.

He had still not stirred, and his face was frozen in place like a mask. She settled down into the chair and pushed to pillow under his head, ruffling his hair even further in the progress. "Come on, Doctor. There are two pirates messing with your TARDIS, and we are on the bottom of the bloody Caribbean sea, and there is something out there – I really don't want to do this on my own." For a moment, Donna wondered if this was how every ship that had disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle had ended up, but she pushed the thought aside.

Jack Sparrow and Gibbs had fallen silent, and then she heard it too – from deep inside the TARDIS, somewhere so far away, a bell was tolling. Deep and dark and threatening, and suddenly the Doctor jolted upright.

"Cloister bell. Very bad!" He shot her a manic grin, then shot out of the room and back into to the console room, as if nothing had happened.

And still, the bell was tolling.