Notes: Sorry this has taken longer than a week! There's a lot of dialogue in this one, so I had to edit the chapter a lot as I didn't want it to end up reading like a script!
Chater Eight:
Martha groaned with frustration. She had been working on the same piece of stubborn grime for several minutes and it wasn't any looser. She didn't truly want to go back to her chores, but The Doctor's spectacular failure had left her wanting to be taken away from this. Sadly, that same spectacular failure made her wishes impossible and so she opted to occupy her mind with other things, even if that meant being no better than the maid she had been in 1913. That and several other factors brought her beyond the phase of sorrow and right into a destructive rage. She was quite tempted to give a pipe a massive thump hoping that she would break something.
"Y'don't have tae do this anymore," Davy Jones was standing in the doorway. His silent arrival, probably due to the fact that he hadn't moved any further, caused Martha to jump and she slammed her brush down onto one of the keyboards. With a heavy sigh, she turned around, raising her eyebrows.
"Psychologists would have a field day!" she muttered, Jones merely looked confused at her remark. "Why?"
"Do nae ask lass! Just think yerself fortunate. Now go and report tae Maccus and make yerself useful on deck!" snapped Jones, his gaze constantly shifting from Martha to the floor. He was trying to appear his usual, controlling self but his fidgeting betrayed him, something was bothering him.
"Are you goin' to do what The Doctor asked?" said Martha, guessing that his newly acquire nervous disposition had to be related to his heart.
"Does it look like it?" Jones spat "no man would be willin' tae take my place, ye can nae step on land fer ten years, and even then…it's an eternal purpose," he said, the fingers on his hand closing around the locket that still rested against his palm.
"What happens after ten years?"
Jones's lip twitched, his temper fraying, but he squeezed the locket hard and tried to calm himself. "Nothing," he said in a low hiss "nothing…because wo…people can nae be trusted,"
"Psychologists field day," Martha half-whispered. Jones gave a curious nod and stared at her. "What?" she asked.
"The things that come out of yer mouth, like nothin' I've ever heard before, and The Doctor…even worse,"
"You should see it from my angle. Cos this situation's really alien, it's like nothing I have ever seen, I keep thinkin' I'm in a dream, and any minute I'm goin' to wake up," she sighed, curling her fingers around the edge of the bench "I just can't believe any of this really happened, is happening,"
"Yer confusing me again Martha Jones, 'cos with talk like that, I still can't fathom where yer from!"
Martha grinned and rose up from the bench to walk over to Jones. He backed away slightly, observing her with curious suspicion when she placed one hand over the tattered fabric covering his right arm. "It's ok," said Martha, pulling his arm gently in the direction of the deck outside.
It was quiet, the Endeavour had distanced itself from the Dutchman and as yet there was no evidence that the East India Company had sent anyone else over. The crew appeared too busy to acknowledge Martha's reappearance but she still quickly looked around, not wanting to burden them with ideas beyond their own knowledge. Her hand fell away from Jones's arm, and she gestured to the sky. The sun was at a punishing strength and so Jones squinted as he craned his neck "I'm from here," said Martha, Jones blinked a couple of times and returned his gaze back to a more comfortable level.
"The heavens?" he asked, his mouth remaining open in surprise.
"No!" laughed Martha "I meant here, Earth, I'm from Earth!" she stopped as she noticed Koleniko was staring, but one harsh glance from the captain was enough to solve that problem. It actually shocked her that Jones had noticed her discomfort and for the second time, Martha was thanking him.
"Nae bother," replied Jones "you wanted to continue,"
"The Doctor and me, we're travellers. But you know that blue box? It can take you anywhere, anywhere in time and space, the heavens. I'm from your future,"
"The future?" gasped Jones.
"Yes! The Doctor would kill me for telling you all this…"
"He had better not!"
"Not literally!" said Martha, playfully rolling her eyes "I meant, I'm not supposed to tell people, there's laws," she paused again, noticing that Jones's fingers were stroking the locket "I'm sorry, I can't change what's happened to you, that's definitely not allowed, something about the universe fracturing…"
"I would nae ask that of ye Martha Jones," he replied, slipping the locket inside his coat. Martha simply smiled, taking a breath as though she were about to speak but a crash from elsewhere on deck soon interrupted her. Both Jones and Martha turned their heads sharply to see Maccus running towards them, obviously panic-stricken.
"Cap'n! P…p…people!" yelled Maccus as a line of crewmen formed behind him but that too fell into a state of disorder as Clanker crumpled to the deck, stabbed from behind by a man with a stern expression. More men followed, dressed in uniform and pushing the Dutchman's crew out of their way. A shorter man emerged in the middle of the group, clasped his hands behind his back and smugly looked towards Jones. Hadras and Koleniko stooped down to pull Clanker back to his feet, but the first man pushed Hadras roughly in the chest, knocking his head off in the process.
"You'll keep back!" the man growled.
"That'll be all Mr Mercer, I think you made your point," said the man at the centre.
"Beckett…" Jones spat.
"We've been through this, is that any way to address your commanding officer Jones?" Beckett sneered, "although, following the chain of command appears to be a problem for you, doesn't it?"
"And we've been through this. Nae man can command me, I am captain of this ship and the ship does as its captain commands!"
"And the captain will finally do as commanded! Really Jones, were my first six warnings not enough?" said Beckett. Jones thudded over to him and Martha quietly followed behind, attempting to step out as Jones stopped walking. Jones reached back with his right hand and pushed Martha into his shadow and she folded her arms with a sigh, staying put.
"Y'don't have the means Lord Beckett, nae man will take my curse, ye may have the chest but ye can't intimidate me into obedience!" hissed Jones.
"Can't I?" Beckett replied, coolly lifting a hand and clicking his fingers. A third man in the most elaborate uniform of all pushed forward through the crowd, holding the lid a small chest partially open. At the same time Mercer grabbed the arm of the nearest lieutenant, forcing a knife into his hand. The lieutenant whimpered as Admiral Norrington flipped the lid of the chest completely open. Mercer yanked the lieutenant's arm hard and dangled it over the chest, the knife pointing downward. "Much like your victims, the perpetrator doesn't have to be willing," said Beckett triumphantly.
"You can't make either of them do anything!" Martha blurted, now standing next to Jones. Beckett's expression remained unchanged but his eyes flashed with amusement. "First, that's murder, and second that's forcing someone else to murder, and third…that's bribery!"
"A woman on the Dutchman! And she's still alive, how quaint!" Beckett goaded, "wouldn't it be poetic irony if she were the one to stab the heart?"
"Ye'll leave her out of this!" snapped Jones.
"And he's defending her! Oh this is too much Jones, was it not a, now regrettably deceased woman that ultimately led you into this predicament in the first place?" asked Beckett. Jones growled and lurched towards him but Mercer moved the lieutenant's hand even deeper into the chest and Jones backed off. The threat seemed very real, but Martha still had her doubts. As a rational, educated person, she couldn't believe that a living being could really survive without its heart. She made small steps forward, rising up onto her tiptoes to peer into the chest. "Come to see for yourself?" Beckett teased.
As a trainee doctor, Martha was not squeamish, but she still gagged at the sight before her. At the bottom of the chest, which was stained dark red with old blood, lay a still-beating heart. It was a fresh pink and apart from being covered in barnacles and traces of fat, it appeared to be healthy. "That's, that's not possible!" stuttered Martha. She stepped back, looking Jones in the eye before reaching out, intending to touch his chest. He lightly grabbed her hand with his claw and pushed her away, shaking his head.
"You'll do as I say Jones," said Beckett, signalling to Norrington who then closed the chest. "Kill your pet, attack anything remotely related to piracy and don't even think about questioning me again, and just to make sure you fulfil all three requirements, Admiral Norrington and Mr Mercer will remain on your ship as your superiors!"
"What?" both men protested.
"Really sir, I don't think that's necessary," said Mercer.
"Lord Beckett, is there really any need for the both of us to remain here?" Norrington whined.
"Oh come now, you're in charge of the most famous ship that ever sailed, think of it as a reward gentlemen, and with two of you on board Jones can't overwhelm one without the other destroying the heart," replied Beckett.
"I suppose ye'll be wanting yer wee puppet back too?" asked Jones.
"Who? The Doctor? Keep him for all I care, his usefulness just expired," said Beckett, pointing his men in the direction of the bow and turning to make his exit.
"You can't just leave him! He's on your side," Martha screamed, leaping over to Beckett and pulling on his shoulder. Beckett broke free of her grip and looked at her in disgust, brushing his shoulder with a sneer.
"He was never on my side Miss Jones, I knew from the beginning he was trying to play me for a fool. Luckily I was blessed with superior intelligence!"
"That's what you think, because he's clever than you!" snapped Martha "and hang on, how did you know my name?"
Beckett smirked "Obviously not clever enough, he told me everything, now if you'll excuse me," he turned up his nose and walked away, followed by his entourage. Mercer attempted his own escape and gave several reasons why he should remain on the Endeavour, but his protests obviously fell on deaf ears. Norrington on the other hand didn't move.
"You know this is wrong!" yelled Martha, snapping Norrington out of his trance, she looked directly at him and repeated the same phrase in a whisper. Norrington seemingly ignored Martha and brushed past her, making his way to the helm. Martha's attention returned to Jones, who had adopted a defeatist stance. He was staring at the deck, his tentacles twisting themselves in knots. "I have to go speak to The Doctor," Martha said quietly.
"Huh?" Jones too had been daydreaming "please yerself lass," he said, lifting his head. Martha smiled and skipped over towards the trapdoor that led to the brig, a plan already forming in her mind. "Word of warning Miss Jones…"
Martha's skipping abruptly ceased "a warning?" she asked. Jones looked over to her with no trace of friendship left in his expression.
"Ye let him out, and y'can go back in there with him. Yer loyalty is tae this ship girl, don't forget that," Jones replied. Martha gave an obedient nod and disappeared below deck.
-0-0-0-
The Doctor was bored, which did not bode well given his so far relatively brief second tenure in the Dutchman's brig. He had decided to amuse himself by counting to a thousand in as many languages as he were able. However, he was a fast counter and had already exhausted English and French. He was half way through Cydonian the moment that Martha over-enthusiastically jumped off the ladder from above. The Doctor immediately leapt to his feet and threw himself at the bars of the brig.
"Oh thank goodness! Martha, you have to let me out of here," he said with an expectant grin. Martha didn't even look at him, she plodded over to the bars with her shoulders hunched and sighed. The Doctor gripped the bars, and his grin quickly transformed into a frown. "I assume things aren't going too well up there…" he whispered and Martha finally looked up, her eyes darkened by an emotion The Doctor couldn't quite place.
"I can't let you out," she said, her voice hollow and cold.
"Oh come on! Where's that sense of reckless disregard for the rules? You let me out…I get to the TARDIS, I find out what's going on around here, get the heart along the way and then I free you, it's a brilliant plan!" The Doctor enthused.
"I can't Doctor," hissed Martha.
"Can't or won't?" asked The Doctor, feeling wounded. Martha scowled at him.
"Can't, I'm bound to the ship. In case you haven't noticed, I mean look at me!" said Martha, gesturing to her hair "what's happening to me Doctor? How is this even possible?"
"Lean closer," The Doctor instructed, poking one hand through the bars. He took hold of Martha's chin between his index finger and thumb, moving her head from side to side as he made a thoughtful sound. "Open wide," he said and Martha opened her mouth, huffing slightly. "Blimey! When did you last brush your teeth?"
Martha pulled her mouth away from The Doctor's fingers and scowled again "excuse me for not packing my toothbrush, and I don't think they have a chemist on the bloody Flying Dutchman, I forgot to check!" she snapped.
"Oh all right, you made your point," said The Doctor, squinting in the gloom as he attempted to look at Martha's eyes.
"What could possibly be in my eye or my mouth that explains this?"
"I'm not sure, just checking for signs of non-humanity I suppose," The Doctor mused, prompting Martha to point at her hair with an expression that conveyed the message "are you blind?" quite well. "Yes I know, the hair…as far as I can tell it's some sort of mutation but your real hair is still in there somewhere," he drew back from the bars slightly and ruffled his own hair as he sucked in a breath "did you eat or drink anything unusual?"
"I've been drinking rum,"
"Hmm, it could be genetic manipulation brought on by consumption of a cocktail of sorts, disguised as rum. Maybe the mutation is directly proportional to how much rum you drink,"
"Except for there's this small, boy I guess, called Penrod, and he's teetotal," sighed Martha. "Admit it, you've got no scientific explanation for any of this, just admit it Doctor, this is way over even your head,"
"There's a rational explanation for everything Martha," said The Doctor, very offended.
"Not here," replied Martha, shaking her head "I've seen things I know can't be possible, but they are, I've seen the heart. I've seen some pretty awful things in hospital but that…it was still beating. They were going to kill him, they were going to stab the heart and kill Captain Jones right in front of me," she looked away and covered her hand over her mouth, trying to suppress another gag at the memory. The Doctor touched the bars again, now quite intrigued.
"Oh Martha…" he sighed, "of all the times to come down with Stockholm Syndrome!"
Martha glared at him and bit down on her bottom lip "what? Are you jealous? He just listens to me sometimes that's all! Maybe if you did the same, I wouldn't have been driven into feeling the way I do!" she snapped, reaching for the bars and holding on tightly.
"How do you feel?" The Doctor asked quietly.
"Like…" Martha's features softened and she dropped her head "like I don't want him to die. I look at him and I think, I've been there, I've felt like I know it couldn't get much worse. He's a horrible person but he's still human, well, sort of. Does he really deserve to die?"
"Nobody deserves to die," said The Doctor, gently prising one of Martha's hands away from the bars and squeezing it.
"Tell me he's not going to die," Martha pleaded.
"I can't promise, as far as I was concerned this was an Earth myth, I have no idea how the reality is going to turn out," he released Martha's hand and curled a finger under her chin, lifting her head up. They shared a weak smile and Martha began to walk away.
"What if I let you out and we both got to the TARDIS?" she asked as she paused half way.
"Might not work," replied The Doctor "you took an oath, and you've already seen the sheer power of words in this universe. The TARDIS might not be able to leave with you on board,"
"Might not or are you making it up again?"
"Martha, be fair! I am trying!" snapped The Doctor.
"I'm sorry Doctor, but it's like you don't really trust me anymore, you've done nothing but look at me suspiciously ever since I came down here!" Martha yelled "and it hurts,"
"Don't be ridiculous, of course I trust you! I'm just worried that you're getting in too deep, I do actually worry about you, even more so since," he gulped "the family,"
"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Martha, stomping back over to the bars, The Doctor didn't reply. "Is that what this is about? If I wanted to get back at you for Joan, don't you think I'd pick someone a little more…" she hesitated "conventional?"
"Martha, please! Just be careful, do that for me. You're stating to sympathise and…oh I'm such an idiot!"
"Took the words right out of my mouth," scoffed Martha.
"No, no, I mean, sympathy. Somebody warned me this would happen, but I assumed it was nonsense. Please…" The Doctor pleaded, "just be careful, I don't want you to face any difficult choices,"
"I think I can handle it Doctor, because while you've been playing dress up and sitting around drinking tea, a lot has happened on here!" Martha hissed, sharply turning around.
"Well what am I supposed to do while you're busy handling yourself?"
"I don't know, talk to Bootstrap," Martha replied, climbing the ladder "good luck though, he says five sentences and then goes back to sleep!" As Martha disappeared into the shadows above, The Doctor sighed and slumped back down onto the floor. It was clearly going to be a long day.
-0-0-0-
By midnight, The Doctor had reached five hundred languages and so willed his body into a light sleep. Mere minutes after his eyelids had closed, he was jolted back into complete consciousness as a faint jangling of keys interrupted the stillness of the night. He grinned and lay down, not wanting Martha to think he had sat up all night waiting for her to change her mind. However, the pair of boots that entered the cell did not belong to Martha, and The Doctor was momentarily confused as to why a member of the Company was on the Dutchman. The Doctor sat up and strained his eyes.
"Admiral Norrington!" he exclaimed as he stood, Norrington's first reaction was to place a finger against his own lips "oh, sorry!" whispered The Doctor. Norrington was holding a bundle, and thrust it into The Doctor's arms. The Doctor almost burst with glee when he recognised his much more favoured clothing. "Oh my shoes, my coat!" he said quietly.
"I thought you might be needing everything back," chuckled Norrington. "Now, come quickly, I'm not certain that the night watchman didn't see me," he said, motioning for The Doctor to come through the open grating. As The Doctor stepped out, Norrington slid the grate quietly back into place and locked it "don't want Bootstrap getting out and raising the alarm now, do we?"
"I'm not completely sure I understand what's going on here, but I'd guess I wasn't left here by accident?" The Doctor asked as he followed Norrington up the ladder.
"No you weren't, but that's not important, there's no time to explain," said Norrington, holding a hand in front of The Doctor's face to still him. "Just checking the coast is clear, right, let's get you to that blue box of yours!"
"How do you know about that?" The Doctor enquired, tip-toeing across the main deck behind the admiral. Norrington, with a smile highlighted by the faint moonlight, faced The Doctor.
"Martha Jones," whispered Norrington "we had a conversation not long after she visited you," he said, sneaking down into the cargo hold. He gasped with wonder as the TARDIS appeared in his line of vision; he then extended his arm, inviting The Doctor to continue. "Do what you have to do Doctor, I'll keep watch,"
"I knew Martha wouldn't just leave me!" The Doctor beamed "but I still don't understand your part in this,"
Norrington dropped his head and inhaled deeply, he then gazed at The Doctor, a pained expression on his face. "Someone I love dearly will be affected by all this," said Norrington "and Martha has such faith in you, I only wish that my…friend would have that sort of faith in me. I'm doing the right thing Doctor, I want you to help them,"
"I'll try my best," The Doctor replied.
"Go! Quickly!" hissed Norrington, giving a courteous nod that The Doctor returned. The Doctor ran, rooting around in his bundle for the TARDIS key. He flung the doors open and threw his clothes over the nearest structure, rushing over to the console and flicking a few switches. The TARDIS hummed as it was aroused from its long slumber and everything was instantly illuminated.
"You can come along if you like Admiral!" The Doctor cheerily called out of the open doors. No answer followed. "Admiral?" The Doctor felt a chill as he walked slowly towards the threshold. A lump formed in his throat as soon as he stepped back onto the ship. Norrington was being held around the throat with a gun pointed at his head…by Mercer.
"Hello again Doctor," he sneered, "shame about the Admiral here isn't it?" his tone was almost cheerful, verging on sadistic.
"Mercer, put the gun down," said The Doctor, his hand gesturing towards the floor.
"You know," replied Mercer, ignoring the request "I think this counts as treachery even for you, you did pledge your allegiance after all,"
"Just put the gun down!" demanded The Doctor "this is a needless murder!"
Mercer laughed "surely you've been in my company long enough to realise that I'm not concerned with morals!"
"Don't do it Mercer!" The Doctor implored, staring helplessly at Norrington. Something stirred in the admiral during that exchange of piteous looks, he was overcome with determination, and in a flash he was in a much more commanding position. After The Doctor's pleas, Norrington had elbowed Mercer in the stomach. While Mercer was on the ground, the admiral kicked the gun away and gave Mercer's stomach a kick for good measure. However, Mercer proved to be stronger than he appeared, he was soon back on his feet, attempting to punch Norrington in the face.
"Doctor, go!" Norrington yelled, twisting Mercer's arm behind his back so that he fell to his knees.
"James…" The Doctor said softly.
"Just go!" Norrington demanded, groaning as Mercer partially freed his hand and grabbed Norrington's wrist. The Doctor reluctantly obeyed, leaping back into the TARDIS and slamming the doors shut. He rested his head against the cold surface, momentarily pondering the possibility that another death was about to rest on his conscience.