WOOHOO! I'm on schedule for once! Even Fears has been updated in time! Now if only there were people reading this, that fact might be appreciated.

Thanks to: Silence Is Mithril, Captain Rika Kisuktai, and Little Miss Sparrow for the loverly reviews. Although I am sad to only have three reviewers anymore, I am glad they are you.

Enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Five: The Fang of the Asp

But before she could fully lose consciousness, she felt someone cutting through her bonds, and strong arms taking her into their embrace, carrying her up, up. At first she thought it was James—after all, it must have been him who'd shot the cord through. But this was not the sturdy form that had carried her so many times before. Oh well, she thought blearily. All that matters is he's saved me. They broke through the surface and she gasped for breath, sobbing as her mind cleared and her consciousness fully returned. "Miss Norrington, are you all right?" her rescuer demanded in an American accent.

She coughed up some water and replied shakily, "I will be." Once she had gotten her winds again, she opened her eyes to see that yes, Jack Harkness had been the one to save her. She looked around to see that they were floating in the sparkling blue water, the great shape of the Oblivion looming not far off. Everything seemed brighter than it had been, all the colours more vivid and beautiful than she remembered them being, despite the fading light as the sun set. She was surprised it wasn't dark yet. Had all that really happened in just a few minutes? It felt like hours. Taking a deep, calming breath to quell her tears, she turned to look at her rescuer, whose eyes, in accordance with all the other colours, seemed bluer than ever. "Thank you."

He smiled and winked. "It's a bad habit I've got; always playing hero to the damsel in distress... Let's get back on the boat." She nodded her assent, too weary to correct him, and they made their way to the side of the ship, where there was a ladder built into the side for getting in and out of boats. A convenient wave swept them within reach of the rungs—whether it was coincidence or magic even the author doesn't know—and they climbed up. A great cheer went around as her feet hit the deck, and she looked about to see the whole of the crew surrounding them.

She sawr Leftenant Richards striding vehemently toward Mandel, who had already been restrained by Theodore, the third and fourth lieutenants, and Mr Perry. "George Mandel, in light of the events that have just taken place, you are no longer fit to command, and I hereby relieve you of your duties. Men, brig."

"No! You have no right! I am your superior, Richards. You take orders from me. This is mutiny! I'll see you all hanged!"

"Get him out of my sight." With that looked like great satisfaction, Theodore shoved his former captain toward the companionway.

"No! Listen to me: she's bewitched you! She's made you do this! She is forcing you to betray me!"

"Shut yer trap, you cold-blooded beasty," cried a sailor, taking up James' idea of calling him a reptile—and forever branding him such. The crew, and even the marines, roared their agreement in a great cheer, and Mandel was led below.

Theodore broke away from the group, as the marines had it sorted, and approached the lass, who was still leaning against Harkness for support, panting heavily, and wiping tears from her eyes—now that it was all over and the adrenaline was dying, emotions that had been smothered were taking over. "Miss Norrington, I am truly, truly sorry for what happened. I want you to know that when I told Mandel about what happened before, I had no intention of hurting you. We've always known he was a little off—but I never suspected he would go so far."

"I understand completely, Rebecca." This earned her several odd looks. "And I forgive you." It was too easy to blame him and make a scene: but she just wanted it to be over.

Relief flowed across his face. "Thank you."

They looked up as James came gingerly toward them, a hand clutching his stomach. Demon prowled beside him, pressed against his leg as if to offer support. "James!" She rushed toward him, all exhaustion forgotten, and flung her arms around his neck. He grunted in pain. "Sorry—are you all right?—What! You haven't even taken the knife out yet!"

"I didn't want to waste time taking care of it. The knife's keeping it from bleeding outright." His face softened at her concern. "It's not that bad. Honestly. I'll have it sorted after we make way. We're leaving as soon as possible."

"Great. Let's be rid of this God-forsaken ship—however beautiful she may be," she said with a vague gesture. "One day, I'll make us a ship even bigger and better, and more beautiful to boot."

"I'm sure Jack would like that," James replied softly.

Suddenly, one of the midshipmen pointed at the starboard cutter. "The wind's carried the embers!" It was true: the ropes holding the little boat in the air were smouldering.

"That's our ride," Amy announced. "As soon as she falls, we're outta here." James shot her an accusing look.

"But there are no provisions aboard except shot and powder," the newly-promoted Captain Richards reminded them.

She grinned wryly in his direction. "Already taken care of."

Richards looked at Theodore. "I'll want that cutter back, Groves, so you go with them. When they reach their destination, bring it back. Hire out some townspeople if you need to."

"Aye sir," he replied with salute.

"You're my first lieutenant now, so do not do anything dangerous on your way; you are no expendable man."

"Aye sir."

"I'm coming too," Jack announced, pulling on a trench coat which definitely lacked the qualities of an eighteenth-century frock. "Except I don't think I'll be coming back." Even the Welsh accent was gone.

"Excuse me?" the new captain was more than a little miffed. How could the faithful coxswain desert the Navy?

"Look, you're cute and all, but I've got stuff to do." And with a broad grin and a huge wink, he swung up onto the cutter. Amy handed Demon up to him. James glanced at the burning ropes, then at her, as though he didn't quite approve, before they both climbed up. Theodore went last, exchanging final saluted with his new boss.

"All right, lads, hold on to something!" the lass warned. A few tense moments passed, and then the ropes snapped, and the plummeted into the sea. The little boat wobbled something terrible before settling and bobbing gently on the waves, as though she enjoyed the feel of water under her hull.

James glared at his aunt. "The burning ropes were your doing, weren't they? There was an easier way of getting out of there!"

"But it would have taken half the night!" It was getting very dim now. The last rays of the sun were fading. "I've spent all my patience waitin' for that to happen. I'nt got anymore!"

With a sigh, he sat down by the tiller, hanging one arm over it. "At least we are away from there. All hands ready to make way." Groves and Amy scurried into position—Jack, not quite knowing what to do with himself, sought to get out of the way. "Loose the mains'l." The large gaff-rigged sail was hauled up the mast, and tied into place. "Set the stays'l." The triangular sail immediately in front of the mast was unfurled. "Amy, some wind if you please." Grinning to herself, she mimed pushing a heavy object, and a brisk wind kicked up, filling the two sails. The cutter responded immediately, and they were on their way, leaving that dreadful warship behind.

"Goodbye, Oblivion," the girl waved to the giant ship. "I hope you'll be happier with your new captain." She caught sight of Jack looking out of place at the railing and poked an accusing finger in his chest. "You need to learn how to sail. Your lessons begin once we've all had a good night's sleep—which can't happen until we get you," she turned to James, "taken care of."

"Get me some bandages and water, then."

"Aye aye, captain," she saluted. James rolled his eyes as she scurried down the hatchway.

"Theodore, find five points north of west, if you please."

Groves opened his compass. "That way, sir," he pointed.

Norrington thanked him with a nod and leaned against the tiller to set their course for Cuba. "We should arrive at our destination in about a week if the wind holds. If I am correct, Mandell was taking us to London, not Port Royal."

"Yes. I suppose he wanted to buy himself time in case something went awry." There was an awkward silence. "I really am sorry, James. Once again I trusted my superiors instead of my friends."

James looked up. "So we are still friends, then?"

"If you'll have me."

The shirtless man grinned, and they shared a heartfelt handshake. The lass returned, bounding toward them with an armful of bandages and a bucket of water. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Right. You, Harkenss," he looked to Jack. "Hold the tiller steady so we run a straight course."

"Aye-aye," he said with some amusement, taking hold of the great wooden beam.

"Pay attention, Amy. You're about to get your first lesson in doctoring. How are you with blood?"

"I have no idea. I know I'm not great with all the blood in horror movies, but I hear they make people bleed more than they really would. Like on Torchwood, for example." That caught Jack's attention. "Oh, I forgot," she pretended to buy his initial pretense, "You guys don't have TV yet."

"Amy. Stay on subject." She shrugged sheepishly at James. "Now, before we can do anything, the knife must come out first." He fixed his grip on the handle, gritted his teeth, and pulled it out with a sigh. The pain must have been intense, but he surely knew it was a superficial wound, because his speech was not in any way impaired or affected. "Wash it out, if you please," was all he said, casual as if they were cooking lunch back in her realm. She did as bidden, wiping away the blood and whatever else. He did not flinch, but his pain was visible. "Theodore."

"Right. I need a needle."

"Will this work?" she produced a needle from her skirts.

"I would have hoped for a surgeon's needle, but I suppose a sewing one is better than nothing. All right, James, you know how it is. Are you ready?"

"Just do it." As tense as he was, after the first few stitches he relaxed, and looked around with his usual alertness, as though completely unaffected. He turned his head to consider Jack. "So what made you decide to come with us?"

"Well with you injured I figured you'd need another hand sailing."

"You had a good job, decent wages; why would you give that up to help us, who you do not know? And on top of that, you can't sail."

Jack sighed. "Look, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but the only reason I came is because she seemed to know more about me than she should."

James rounded on the lass with some severity: "Have you been in his head? Even after what happened with Mandel?"

"No. I just recognised him, that's all."

His face dropped. "Recognised him from where?"

"A television show." Theodore was beginning to look confused at what he was hearing.

"Whoa whoa whoa, since when has there been a show about Torchwood? That's classified stuff!"

"Ever since Captain Jack Harkness came back to life in the last episode of the first season of Doctor Who. It became a spin-off to the main series."

"All right, I'm confused. You're talking like I'm a fictional character."

"That's right. Just like these two."

"Excuse me?" To say Groves was confuzzled would be the understatement of the century.

"Where I come from, these two are characters in a movie, and you're a character in a television series. You exist in your own realms, but are considered non-existent in mine."

"Whuh—realms?"

"Realms, universes..."

Jack sighed. "I thought I was in another time; I had no idea I was in another universe."

"How'd you get here, anyway?" He cocked his head, reaching into his pocket and taking out a metallic wristband sporting a giant yellow button. "The time-hopper."

'I thought I'd finally gotten it to work again. I guess not. And when it stopped working I knew I'd have to wait until the present again. What is it, two hundred years?"

"More. So that's why you were on the Oblivion. It was because you were trying to get back to Cardiff, not because you were the sea-faring type."

"And for the record, I knew you weren't Welsh," Theodore put in. "You're set, James. Just don't push it for a few days, all right?"

"I'll stick to the tiller, don't you worry."

"And now onto these other scars. This one on your shoulder looks recent. So does this one between your ribs; it looks rather nasty."

"It was pretty deep. And the one on my shoulder had me in a sling for ages. You cannot begin to imagine how bored I was getting, having to take it slow for so long."

"Knowing you, I think I can. And these on your chest; they look like claws."

"Bear. It's a long story."

"I believe there are a lot of long stories you haven't been telling me," he replied coldly. "I've been patient with you thus far, but I am tired of being left in the dark. I demand to be told what is going on."

"Amy—"

"I think he's earned our trust by now, Ellie." Besides, she added in his mind, Tia Dalma can always teach me a spell that will make him forget. James silenced his complaints, and she turned back to Groves. "You know how Mandel thought I was a witch?"

"Of course I do."

"Well—he wasn't that far off."

"You must be joking. You know, that really is insulting; do you really think me that much of a fool?"

"It's true!"

"Do you believe any of this?" he turned to Norrington, cheeks reddening with indignance.

"Yes," came the solemn reply.

"And what about you?" he rounded on Jack.

"I'm not really sure what to believe, to tell you the truth."

"Whether you want to or not, they are telling the truth, and you will have to square with that someday," Demon piped up, earning him shocked looks from both Rebecca and Jack. "Hey, stop staring; you're pulling us off course."

"And now that we've told you, we're going to stick to it, you hear? If it ends up being too much for you to handle, too bad. You asked for it."

"All right, I'll leave it be for now. You get some sleep, James. I don't care how fine you feel; you need rest." Grudgingly, the former-commodore did as bidden.

"Why don't you get some sleep too, Theodore? Jack and I can hold a straight course." The leftenant nodded and followed his friend below. "We'll wake you in a few hours."

"Aren't you tired, Amy?" Demon asked, jumping onto the rail to meet her gaze. "I imagine you must be exhausted."

She shook her head. "I'm still running on adrenaline. It should wear off in a few hours, and I think I can squeeze a couple more hours after that. But not in this dress. I'll be back." She climbed down the hatch to find herself in a small but cozy galley. It had a small pantry with a folding door in one corner, and a stove, icebox, and cupboards in the other. The table was about eight feet long with six chairs around it. One end was against the trunk of the mast at the far wall, which had a narrow door on either side that led forward to a small cargo area, and the other end was against the very ladder she had climbed down. Satisfied—no, delighted with the cozy kitchens, she poofed herself into her old clothes, the dress appearing in a neat folded square before her. She left it on the table to put away later and returned topside.

She and Harkness exchanged glances, but though she had a dozen or so questions burning in her mind, she only took up her position by the mast, looking glass and compass at the ready. They spent an hour or so in silence before she suddenly realized it was dark and, with a squeezing motion, summoned a couple of lanterns into place. "So...witch or Carrionite?" Harkness hazarded to ask.

"Not Carrionite. But I'm a human; as human as you or Teddy. I don't use words that often; just when I'm doing something I'm not sure how to do."

"Is travel between different universes one of those? I mean, how else did you get here?"

"I travel back and forth as needed or convenient."

"Isn't that bad? It breaks holes through the walls between the universes."

"Not my way. It draws the two a little closer, but it doesn't weaken the barriers."

"Huh. That's intriguing. You're sure it isn't dangerous."

"Well with the next Pirates movie coming out in my Realm, our two worlds will come very close to one another. With me here, they're already a little closer than they normally would be, so when it comes out, I'll have to go back home. Other than that, it's pretty safe." Except when war was broiling...

"And what kind of world do you come from?" The night passed agreeably as they both described their home towns, the cities they knew, places they'd traveled to, the state of the environment, how much the dollar was worth, movies they likes (apparently PotC was a movie in the Whoniverse as well), and etc.

"You're nodding off," he observed around two in the morning. "You should get some sleep."

"I'll wake Groves up when it's time," Demon offered.

"What about you? Aren't you tired?" she asked Jack.

"I don't sleep." Too tired to ask any more questions, she nodded and shuffled down the hatch. She opened the door to the cabin and paused to take it in: along the port wall, two bunks, one atop the other. Theodore was up top, and James had taken the bottom. On the starboard wall was a larger single bunk, which she realized must be the captain's bed. Had they saved it for her? How thoughtful. She sank into the furs that covered the mattress, curled up on her side, and was asleep almost instantly.

———————————————————————————————————————

She was awakened by the gentle sunlight streaming in through the narrow highset stern windows, and roused herself to find the cabin empty save for Demon, curled up at the foot of her bunk. Now that there was light enough to see what was inside the cabin, she saw that she had been sleeping on animal furs—fox and deer and wolf and mink, among others. The fox was very soft to the touch—she reminded herself that it was softer still when the animal was alive. She expected her heart to twist with pity for the poor animals that had been killed to keep the 'captain' warm, but could not find it in herself to feel sad. She knew immediately that it was going to be one of those great days where nothing much happens but nothing brings you down because you're just happy to be alive. She scratched Demon behind the ears and went topside.

"Good morning!" she bid the small crew. James, basking in the sun as he leaned against the rail at the tiller, nodded to her. Jack looked up from the knot Theodore was trying to teach him to grin at her in greeting. "Sails are billowing, spirits are high..."

Now that there was light to see it by, she had the chance to see what their little ship was all about. The mast was set about a third of the way back from the prow. There was a short bowsprit off the prow, from which the jib was flying. All four sails were set now; the main, stay, jib, and the triangular topsail in the crosstrees. The little cutter was clipping along at a chipper pace. "I've decided on a name."

"For what?"

"You're not feminizing this one too, are you?" Theodore asked with a nod at Harkness.

"For our boat. And I think it suits her quite well, although I'm not sure why."

"So what is it then?" the two demanded.

"Ivalice." They looked at one another, shrugged, and went back to work. She continued her explorations of the little boat aft. Hanging off the stern by two great hooks was a ten-foot catboat, mast folded down over top of it. Its presence confused her; she and the others could fit into it if they squeezed, but what about when there were a dozen or more sailors and marines aboard? How was the cramped catboat supposed to serve as a lifeboat for so many more men? "This can't be a lifeboat, can it?" she asked, coming forward again.

"No," Theodore answered. "Remember, these cutters are also the Oblivion's lifeboats. Of the two, the port cutter was equipped for war with six swivel guns—you'll notice this one only has two—while the Ivalice, as you called it, was equipped for the case of an emergency. The purpose of the catboat is for fishing; so that should we be stranded in it, we will not be at a loss for food."

"Huh. Coo—." The Ivalice suddenly changed course, and all were thrown to the deck. "Everyone all right?" she asked Jack and Groves, who were picking themselves up. Demon was pressed to the deck with tail puffed out and claws digging into the grain of the wood. She whirled around to face aft. "James, what was that? James!" He had collapsed, his weight moving the tiller, to the deck, clutching his stomach, unable to move as though consumed by a spasm. Everyone rushed to his side. "James, what is it?"

"P-p-p..." he stammered, gasping with watering eyes.

"Come on, stay with me. What's wrong?"

"P-p-p—." He grunted in pain and rolled onto his back.

"P-p-p-what?" cried Theodore, who was not handling this well. "P-p-p-what?!"

"Poison," Amy murmured.

"What?"

"He's been poisoned—Mandel poisoned the knife!" There was a short, shocked silence as James writhed on the deck. "What do we do?"

"Undress the wound and clear out the poison," said Theodore.

"It's already spread into his blood," Jack cut in. "If we try to remove what isn't there, we'll only upset the injury."

"Then what do we do?"

"Give him plenty of water and pray it flushes out of his system."

"Is that all you've got? You're from the 51st century; don't you have some way of countering poison?"

"We're in the middle of the ocean, in case you haven't noticed. There aren't any useable resources. Besides, I'm no doctor."

James gasped in pain and rolled back onto his side. Truly frightened, Amy replied, "The that's what we need." Gathering all her strength, she took a deep breath, and was engulfed in a gold-white light. I need your help, she thought, and her thoughts echoed aloud. The light left her and shot into the sky. She collapsed, to be caught by Jack, exhausted.

"Good God, she really is a witch!" Theodore cried.

"Thanks," she panted bitingly, "I hadn't noticed." She stumbled back to James' side, where he lay panting for breath, already seeming weaker than he had been. "Help is coming," she whispered. "I hope. All right, let's get him out of the sun. Take him down to the cabin—and then you, Mr Harkness, will tell me everything you know about poison." James, hating the fuss, attempted to get up on his own; and though he succeeded, he had to lean heavily on Jack and Groves for support. It was several minutes before he was settling down on the more spacious captain's bunk in the dim of the cabin. "Help me out here, Torchwood; you know more about this kind of stuff than I do. Some help is better than no help."

"Yeh. All right." He dragged the room's only chair over, and sat himself in front of his patient. "How ya feeling, James? Symptoms? Pain?"

"The pain is going away, actually," he answered wearily. "And so is my strength. I feel weak; as though something is sapping my energy."

"Upset stomach? Headache? Muscle spasms?"

"No, no, and no."

"Anything else that seems strange? Anything at all?"

"I feel rather chilled, yet I am sweating at the same time. How about that?"

"Yup, that definitely counts."

"Tell me what you need," Amy ordered.

"Stethoscope, a syringe, a microscope...flashlight thingy." She snapped her fingers and all were present. "Whoa. That's kinda cool."

"And convenient."

So Jack listened to his heartbeat, breathing, and stomach, checked his eyes and throat, and examined the wound with a critical eye. "All right, I'm gonna need a blood sample."

"This is taking a lot of time..."

"It's a slow-acting poison, that much I know. We have time to be thorough." He explained what 'taking a blood sample' meant to James. "Is it clean?" he turned to Amy, who nodded. "Great. Here we go." James watched the needle apprehensively as it was poked into the crook of his elbow, but watched in fascination as the syringe filled with blood.

"Not too much—the surgeon tried to bleed him to death, so he's already running low." Although James had been able to stop him before it reached a dangerous level.

"This is all I'm taking," he replied, flicking the syringe a couple times. "Just let me look at this real quick, and then we'll have it taken care of. Keep him drinking, keep him awake."

"There's more light in the galley, if you need it."

"Good idea." And, with microscope and syringe, he went into the light. It seemed ages before he came back, and judging from the look on his face, the news wasn't good. "I have no idea what it is," he confessed with a sigh.

"Well do you know what it's doing to him? How's it work?"

"It's literally absorbing the energy out of his body. He'll just get weaker and weaker, until he can't move, can't even open his eyes. Either he'll get too weak to breathe (or his heart will stop), or he'll starve first."

"Isn't there any cure? Can't we do something?"

"I don't know what to try. Caffeine might counteract it—stimulants in general would help—but then again, it may just speed up the process."

"But we've got to try something!" she was beginning to panic. James merely listened to all this with a bowed head.

"Like I said; maybe we can flush it out of his system. Keep the fluids going and all that. It must've been a pretty small dose; it was a small knife, and the coating could not have been thick.

"But it was in him so long. What if it doesn't work?" she whispered.

His hopeful expression faded and he shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Come here," James ordered. She shook her head, trying to be brave and hold back the tears. "Come here," more firmly. She obeyed and sat by him, and he wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his shoulder, rocking gently back and forth and staring distantly into space.

"Come on," Jack said to Groves and Demon. "Let's give them some space." He led the way out of the cabin, and the two were left to themselves.

It was a long tim before she had regained the power of speech. "I can't, James—I can't lose you. Not yet."

"There's still hope, pet," he tried to sound strong—but the idea that he might never see her again made his voice crack. "If we try what Mr Harkness said—it could work. And what about the help you sent for? If it comes, then—."

"But a doctor can't help us. Not with an unknown poison. Jack may as well be a doctor himself with all the stuff he knows. And he knows a lot. He's a couple hundred years old." Startled, James turned to look at her. She smiled in spite of herself at the expression on his face, although her cheer immediately faded.

"Well, who knows? A doctor might know how to contend with an unknown poison. But right now, I do believe I'll need some water." Wondering how he could possibly be positive in so bleak a situation—and ruing the happy music that had begun to play in her head—she waved her hand and an ornate glass bottle appeared.

"It'll refill itself every time you empty it." He was emptying it as she spoke, and, with a suppressed burp, watched it fill back up.

"It tastes strange. Where is this from?"

"The Healing Springs of my world—not my world; the one I made up a while ago." The same one she had always thought about during her first visit.

"Your world probably has its own Realm—have you considered that?"

"You know, I haven't. It would be kind of cool to check it out. What better way to discover more about your own fantasy world than to go there?"

"We should go together some time."

"Yeah and soon, too." It was agreed.

But it would happen much sooner than either of them thought.

When he had been through the bottle three times, he got to his feet, swaying just a little, and headed toward the bow—and the head. In the mean time, Amy headed topside in much higher spirits (although, just like so long ago, doubt nagged at her consciousness). "I'll never be able to sleep now."

"Welcome to my world," replied Jack. "Listen, I'm sorry I couldn't help out more—you'd think that the 51st century would have a few anti-poison tricks. People usually think that a person is wiser after a few centuries—I guess my brain aged as much as the rest of me."

"Now now; we never would have known what it was doing to him if it weren't for you; nor would we have known that it's an unknown recipe. James doesn't seem to be worried, so I've resolved to try not to worry, either."

"How is he?" Theodore asked calmly; being in the profession he was, he had steeled himself against his friend's death long ago.

"About the same. He's already drank about two liters."

"Of what; water?"

"Pure and self-renewing."

"You can make water for him, but you can't make him better?" Groves was still getting used to the idea that Mandel had actually been right.

"I don't know how. I'm still pretty new at this. I'm saving the possibility as a last resort—I'm afraid of what could happen if I do something wrong. Mistakes like that can't be unmade. But like I said; we're staying hopeful."

It was not long before James was topside again, navigating at the tiller once more. It was hard to tell that anything was wrong, and the day went on as it had before, in spite of the shadow lingering in the background.

But by the next morning, the difference was visible. Heels dragged and feet were tripped over, albeit not very often, and more breaks than usual were taken throughout the day. He seemed to be getting tired more easily, although he proved as sharp as ever in conversation. The day after that, he was stumbling much more, and Theodore had to restrict his duties. "Can't you ever just enjoy the ride?" he had asked when James insisted on continuing to man the tiller.

"It won't be long now before he can't get out of bed," Jack told them.

Amy looked up, alarmed. "Isn't he getting any better?"

"I dunno. The water treatment seems to have slowed down the process a bit, but we can all see that it's still happening. His system might have flushed most of it out, but whatever is left his body has to fight."

"Could he win?"

"He could. Will he? I dunno." Amy heaved a heavy sigh.

Demon came trotting over. "Mr Norrington requests your presence in the galley," he announced formally, with his lilting Scottish accent. "He wants a word—says it's important."

"All right. Thank you." She hopped down the hatch and took up a seat next to a pensive James. "What is it?"

"We need to have a talk, you and I."

She didn't like his brooding look. "What about?"

"About what happens next."

She didn't want to hear this. "James—"

"No," he silenced her. "If this mixture takes me—which it could very well do—you'll have to keep going without me. Find Jack first and prevent the Realms from colliding. If you succeed, you'll have plenty of time to grieve after."

"I can't go without you."

"I don't want this any more than you do. But this is not about me. This is about saving the lives of countless people—and finding your friend."

She hadn't really been thinking about Jack lately. She'd been thinking about saving him, sure, but not about him. Those memories seemed so long ago now. It was like he had sunken back into fiction. Suddenly, she felt very torn. Stay with a dying James or save Jack? How could she chose? "But I can't leave you," she tried not to cry.

He took her into his arms—she was scared to feel how weak his embrace was. "Such a strong girl, and yet you fear something as mundane as death."

"I can't lose you. I love you."

"And I you. You have been an amazing friend to me, and a mother, for all your youth. You are more than anything I could ask for, and if we were not related, I know there would be something else there, too. You mean the world to me. You mean the Realms to me. No. You mean more to me than all of creation, and I don't want to leave you. But I haven't got any choice now; this is a battle I am losing, and we cannot change that." She had never seen James cry before, as he did now.

"But it's not fair!"

"Is it ever? That is why you must find Jack. You cannot let Fate have her cruel way with him, too."

"But what if you're gone before I can find him?"

"Then go now. Be swift and come back before that happens."

"I-I—." She broke off, sobbing, and he held her tighter as they wept together.

———————————————————————————————————————

The next day he could not get out of bed without assistance, and could not go topside at all. "Please. Let me have one last look at the world." She levitated him through the hatch, and he spent the day sitting on the deck against the rail, staring in thoughtful reminiscence out over the sea. He was going through his fondest memories and his greatest adventures and misadventures. These memories would have been wasted if he did not look back on them while he still could.

The day after, he could barely sit up without help, and even his speech was suffering as he stumbled over words. "Tell me about what your life was like before you first came here," he requested. "I never hear about it." She acquiesced, and told him all about her mundane and insignificant childhood adventures. She told him about how she's broken her arm roller skating, and how she'd gotten a concussion from being bucked off a horse. She told him about marching band and about how, even though it was only her rookie year, she wanted to become drum major. She told him about her family vacations—Niagara Falls, Jockey's Ridge in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, the Poconos—and about the trip to Ireland she would be taking in the next summer, to ride horses across the Connemara.

Three days later, he could not sit up, and he could barely move or speak—the latter of which he chose to refrain from attempting, for dignity's sake. Amy, who had been spending all this time preparing to go after Jack, finally admitted to herself that she would not be leaving any time soon. She had made a vow to herself long ago that she would be with him when he died. She had expected it to be from a gunshot wound or a cannon, knowing the dangers of his profession, but here it was, and she would stick to that promise.

James, weakly, slowly, lifted a finger to motion at his head. Cautiously, afraid that the drain from thought would weaken him further, she entered his mind. "I have a request." He sounded so distant—although his voice sounded strong. "Let me suffocate, let my heart stop—but please, please, do not let me starve. Starving is a rather unpleasant business, and because I have the rare chance to choose, I would like to rule out the worst."

"Sure, James," she said aloud. "Sure. Anything you want." And she leaned down to kiss him on the forehead.

The days passed much more slowly after then. Two days and the best he could do was stare. Three, and he could not even open his eyes. She cried a lot in those days, usually alone because she didn't want him to hear her weakness. She also prayed much more than she usually did. But what she found herself doing most of all was thinking like a philosopher. She contemplated complicated subjects of everyday life with even more complicated meanings. She made observations about people and the worlds she knew that Socrates would have been proud of. A lot of growing up was had, and it humbled her. She used her magic less and used manual labour more. She had to be doing something—anything to get her mind off James, however much she wanted to wallow in her grief.

At last, a week and a half after they had left the Oblivion, it finally ended. The sky was overcast, and the clouds glowed a sickly yellow. It was chilly and raining lightly; perfectly depressing for that time. Amy was alone topside, staring at the sky in deep thought. Then it caught her eye—a tiny speck of light breaking through the clouds, coming closer, getting bigger. She almost laughed for joy. "Come quick!" she cried. Jack, Theodore, and Demon hurried on deck. "Look," she pointed at the light. It was the same light she had sent toward the heavens at the start of their voyage. She was smiling ear to ear. Help had come at last!

The ball of gold-white fire plummeted, gathering momentum, heading straight for them. "It'll sink us!" Groves cried, and everyone dove out of the way to prepare for impact. However, the light paused a few feet above them to settle slowly, gently on the deck.

The glow faded to reveal a man, who looked out at the sea and furrowed his brow. "Wot?"

"Oh great."

"No way!" Jack cried.

"Wot!"

"No no no, why is this happening?" Amy whispered in horror.

"Wot?!"

"I wanted a doctor, not the Doctor!"

Hmm, I dunno, is that a cliffie like all my other chapters? I guess it keeps you wondering. Like how I keep wondering why no one else is wondering... maybe I should write in less cliffies...

...Nahh...

Please, please leave a review. I even edited for mistakes this time!