Chapter Eleven:
"Now, I know that as a hostage it's in my best interests to tell you this, but I really would reconsider shooting me," said The Doctor, still all smiles.
The one named Barbossa lowered his pistol slightly "that remains to be seen, but ye not be in a position to bargain now, are ye?" he replied with an icy smirk.
"Well, you have got me there," The Doctor relaxed his fingers a little "and although it's not my place to make demands, especially after interrupting the association of continental stereotypes anonymous…" he trailed off as a pistol was pressed rather violently against his temple. "Sorry, I really should keep quiet, shouldn't I?"
"Give me one good reason why I should not give the order to shoot ye where ye stand!"
"Your order? I don't recall you being in charge," Elizabeth interjected.
Barbossa rolled his eyes "I being that very reason we be here in the first place, Miss Swann,"
"Excuse me, but who was elected king a moment ago?"
"A decision that some us of still believe is a travesty!" snapped the other woman at the table, which lead to another chorus of angry voices. From The Doctor's point of view it was a good thing, for they had forgotten to keep aiming their pistols at him. However, the room was getting so heated that he anticipated being witness to a brawl, or worse involved in one. Without hesitation, he grabbed the nearest available wrist and prised the pistol from the hand of its owner. The room fell silent once the shot had been fired.
"Pirates…please, the reason I am here concerns all of you! I know you're not pleased with my presence here…"
"There's an interesting conundrum dear Doctor, how did you get in here?" asked Sparrow.
Now it was The Doctor who rolled his eyes "let's just say that I have my ways Sparrow, leave it at that,"
Elizabeth was curious. "You two know each other?"
"Oh we go way back!" said The Doctor, somewhat sarcastically as he frantically paced back and forth.
"He was on the same ship where I took Tia Dalma," Sparrow announced, receiving a poisonous look from Barbossa for his troubles.
"Not by choice, there were circumstances, like each and every one of you I'm a victim in all this," The Doctor finally stood still and slipped his hands into his pockets.
"If you were a victim and you're now no longer on that ship, that would perhaps suggest that you escaped, which would also suggest that perhaps, by some fortunate coincidence, Tia Dalma escaped,"
The Doctor shook his head and approached Sparrow, standing closely in front of him "I'm afraid that's why I'm here. Tia Dalma is dead," he was interrupted by a united gasp. "I'm sorry,"
Almost immediately someone shouted, "kill him!"
The Doctor spun round to face the rest of the court "I couldn't stop it from happening!" he protested.
"Not you," said the female pirate "him!" she pointed at Sparrow.
"Well," Barbossa sounded almost pleased "I suppose we won't be needing his piece of eight, 'tis fair punishment fer valuing his own life over those of everyone else!" Sparrow simply shrugged, silently admitting that Barbossa's assessment was fair.
"And which of you wouldn't have done the same in his position hmm?" The Doctor reasoned as he resumed pacing, "I don't pretend to know anything about your moral code, but I know pirates. Which of you hasn't ever double-crossed your fellow pirate in order to secure that small fortune? Which of you hasn't ever collaborated with the East India Company because they lied to you and claimed that you would be immune to their relentless pursuit?" he faced the court once more and raised his eyebrows expectantly. Nobody dared look him in the eye.
"He's right, in fact I'd go as far as saying he knows from personal experience…" said Sparrow.
"Jack…" The Doctor warned.
Sparrow continued having not heard The Doctor "…I'm guessing working for the Company didn't work out for him either,"
"You were working for them?" hissed Elizabeth.
The Doctor grimaced "well, working for is such a strong term," he backed away from the table as a number of pirates rose to their feet, crowding around him with stern expressions on their faces.
"And how are we to know that ye be not still in their service? Yer not exactly a trustworthy source now are ye?" Barbossa cruelly remarked. The Doctor was backed further toward a wall, one hand raised and the other attempting a subtle rummage through his jacket pocket. He really hoped that these people weren't as observant as Davy Jones. It would be his second sonic screwdriver lost in just as many months.
"Ah but!" The Doctor called "I may not be trustworthy but I do know you can trust me on one thing…just one little thing," he pointed to the ceiling "if you're going to corner a man with a sonic screwdriver, don't do it under a roof full of loose timbers," He produced the sonic screwdriver from his pocket and aimed it at a particularly rotted section of hull. His potential captors could do nothing but cover their heads as they were showered with small shards of damp wood. The Doctor seized his chance and bolted for the exit, knocking over a few confused guards on his way out. Not much wood had fallen and so he anticipated that he would be followed. Still, it was enough of a head start to climb up to the TARDIS, which was thankfully too high up to notice if one was not looking for it.
Some who were overenthusiastic in their chase fell into the water outside. The pirate lords watched their step more carefully, surveying the number of docked ships ahead and becoming quite distressed. There was no sign of their prisoner. "He couldn't have rowed to one of our ships that quickly, could he?" asked Elizabeth.
"That thing he carries be like no tool of man I 'ave ever set these eyes upon, that be the devil's work," said Barbossa.
"Well, I always thought Jones was the devil, and last time I checked he wasn't in the business of making bleepy glowy things that can disturb firmly fixed wood," Sparrow observed, stroking his beard curiously.
Barbossa gave an annoyed grunt "a devil's work then! And forgive me if this already be obvious, but yer not exactly courtin' favour at this moment Jack…best make yerself useful,"
"You want me to find him?" asked Sparrow with a slight swagger. "He could be anywhere, you may have already observed that this is a big place, can't expect me to cover a very large area in the time we have left,"
"Aye, so ye best get started now, we'll be goin' on without ye,"
"And you better come back with a prisoner or not at all," Elizabeth added.
"That's the last time I vote for you," said Sparrow before breaking away from the group to begin his search.
-0-0-0-
Once again, Martha awoke with a start. Her heartbeat was thundering in her ears and a film of cool sweat covered her forehead. She had been seeing Calypso in her dreams quite regularly, to the point where dare not sleep for very long. Each time Calypso upped the torment. This time Martha had been wearing the locket around her neck, and the witch had slowly prowled toward Martha. She couldn't move, no matter how much she struggled her limbs were locked into place. Calypso was so close that the stench of death invaded all of Martha's senses. With a single tug, violent enough to dig the chain into Martha's neck, Calypso removed the locket with a murderous snarl.
The torment in this particular dream wasn't over. Martha could hear The Doctor desperately calling her name. Calypso disappeared and the ground opened up beneath Martha's feet, revealing a burning chasm. In the centre of a merciless ring of fire, there stood The Doctor yelling for Martha's help. "Don't just stand there…" he was quite condescending. Martha still couldn't move, she was floating above the chasm and could not intervene. Before she woke up she could feel the ground shaking and the chasm grew deeper…deeper. It became so deep that The Doctor was out of sight, nothing but orange flames left in his place.
The locket fell out of Martha's hand as her arm fell from her chest and it was then that she awoke. She had to sleep on the cold hard deck now and her bones creaked as she tried to stand. After failing to capture Sao Feng's crew the Dutchman had an increased presence of marines. Beckett believed that Jones had failed on purpose to undermine the East India Company. Martha had been in enough trouble; such accusation won her no favours. Yet Jones was very kind in not unleashing verbal hell on Martha and instead told a marine that he could sleep in the hammock. Martha didn't let on that she was actually quite relieved, it was getting tiresome falling out of the damned thing after a bad dream.
Too drained emotionally to go back to sleep, Martha decided to take a stroll. She hid the locket under her fingers against the palm of her hand and exited the crew's quarters. Her first calling point was the brig to slip a water skin through the bars for Norrington. She had been doing this ever since he was imprisoned but could only do so at night. He was always asleep. Martha was quite comforted by the fact that Norrington wouldn't even know the identity of his secret donor. Nor was Bootstrap aware for he spent most of his life half buried in a section of wall with his eyes closed. Sometimes Martha wondered what those two talked about. She knew from experience that the brig was a cruel and lonely place.
Next, Martha decided to visit Jones. This was always a risky venture; his mood was never predictable especially after Martha had given him good reason to be displeased. She just had to talk to someone who constituted a familiar face. Normally in times of distress she would run to The Doctor…but he still wasn't here. She hated to admit it but in this time frame, Jones was officially the person she knew best. Not that she would test him by calling him a Doctor substitute…
"Just where do you think you're going young lady?" of all the people to bump into, Mercer was definitely bottom of a very long list. He slithered out of the variety of shadows cast by the sails and revealed a grotesquely suspicious expression on his face. Behind him was a much younger man, nervously holding onto the Dead Man's Chest. Mercer had take to wandering around with the chest to hand, just in case Jones decided to step out of line.
At the sound of Mercer's voice, Martha froze on the spot and sighed. "I need to see the captain,"
"He's here, right in front of you. Or have you forgotten?" Mercer sneered, pacing to Martha's right. She followed him with her eyes but still did not move.
"I meant my captain," she snapped before adding a calmer "sir," for want of a quick and peaceful exchange.
"If it's important, you can tell me. I'm in charge now Miss Jones, and I don't recall giving crewmen permission to wander at night,"
"Well, it's a good job I'm not a man," replied Martha as she defiantly stepped away from him and continued toward the cabin. She walked with a slight limp, her wound still troubling her.
"Take one more step…"
Martha looked over her shoulder "what are you going to do?" she briefly gazed at the chest "kill me?" she scoffed. If she had been sure that Jones was awake she would've probably slammed the door in Mercer's face. Instead she had to be satisfied with a muted click.
-0-0-0-
Jones was sitting in his favoured spot in front of the pipe organ. His shoulders were relaxed and his breathing steady. Martha quietly moved forward. This would work a lot better if he woke of his own accord. It was bad enough that she was risking his temper anyway for entering without being summoned.
Slowly, Martha climbed over the bench so that she could sit to Jones's right as she had done once before. She really hoped that he would wake up soon. Between the horrible dreams and Mercer's bullying, it was the loneliness that bothered Martha the most. The thought that Jones had been alone for possibly hundreds of years caused a great sadness to weigh upon Martha's heart. Was that what she was facing? Hundreds of years until she faded into nothing, all because she had been foolish enough to trust The Doctor when he said that her oath would not be permanent.
Bravely, Martha rested her head against Jones's shoulder. He was a bit cold and slimy, but then again so was she, now was not a time to be judgemental. She was beginning to forget what it meant to physically be warm and dry. At least the contact with another body dulled her loneliness, although it carried the risky bonus of angering Jones if he wasn't in a good mood. Martha closed her eyes and slipped into a light sleep, but it was short lived.
"Still a bit too brave at times lass," that was a positive sign. Jones was speaking softly. "Yer either tryin' to win favour, or ye did somethin' I'm nae goin' tae like," he said, lifting his head and straightening his spine, which caused Martha to move her head slightly. She blinked a couple of times and raised a hand to her forehead, rubbing it to combat the first signs of a tension headache.
"Neither of those really sir," Martha sighed "I just wanted some company I suppose,"
"Bad dream again?" asked Jones. Martha nodded and he exhaled loudly. "Can tell from yer posture, yer a wee bit dejected, like the last time…"
Martha turned over the hand that was holding the locket. She opened and closed her fingers a couple of times, carefully considering her next move. "I think you should have this back," she said in a neutral tone. She reached for Jones's right hand, pulling it toward her and placing the locket in the centre of his palm. He turned his head sharply and glared at her as though offended. "If anythin', the dreams are getting worse since you gave me this, I think she misinterpreted your actions,"
"It means nothin' tae her lass, was just givin' it away 'cos I had nae use fer it," Jones replied, looking at the organ now.
"She's doing a bloody good job of scarin' me over nothin'," snapped Martha. She completely removed her head from his shoulder and folded her arms, huffing slightly. "If she's some sort of ghost I think you're being hard on her, she obviously cares about you or else she would've moved on by now!"
Jones slammed his claw against the edge of the lower keyboard and snarled. "If she cared that much, she would nae have left me alone on the one day I could be with her again," he threw Calypso's locket down next to his own "ten years I wasted faithfully carryin' out that duty she asked of me and she could nae remain faithful tae me,"
Martha swallowed hard. She swore that she wasn't going to cry but the lump in her throat was getting bigger and she sighed. "I'm sorry," she said for lack of anything better to offer.
"Nay lass, yer not at fault. I should nae yell at you. Well, this time," Jones was calmer now. His ability to switch his temper on and off only aggravated Martha's headache and she found herself resting against his shoulder again. One tentacle idly curled over the back of her neck and twisted a small section of her hair against its suckers. Martha almost laughed; this was probably Jones's idea of a comforting hug. "What's so amusing Miss Jones?" he asked after noticing her smile.
"Nothing, Captain, I was just wondering if you ever hug people. I can't imagine it really,"
"Ha! Not fer a while, do I look like the type tae waste time on a hug,"
"That's funny," said Martha as she closed her eyes and adjusted her head to a more comfortable angle and continued dreamily "The Doctor said something like that…and he's always hugging people. Sometimes I wonder if he says those things just to keep me in my place,"
"Ye deserve better than that Martha," replied Jones, removing the tentacle from her hair "nae point dedicatin' yer entire life tae someone who cannae love you back, it makes the betrayal much more painful,"
Martha was fully alert again "voice of experience?" she scolded.
"I only knew once it was too late!" hissed Jones. "I was but a man, a foolish weak-minded man. Better as I am then tae ever feel such weaknesses ever again,"
"It's not weak, it's being human!"
Jones snorted. "Human, ha! Not been that fer a while either,"
"But you were once," Martha replied, annoyed that he still perceived emotions as a weakness. "You have done some terrible things Captain Jones, but you have your reasons, and I've accepted them," she hesitated as she noticed his lip curling into a snarl. "Somewhere in there you still have a moral centre and you know it. You've had plenty of excuses to kill me, to punish me for simply being female, but instead you've listened to me and even come to understand me I hope,"
"Only because ye would nae survive on this ship without my protection!"
"Don't give me that bruised male ego crap, I've got that enough times from The Doctor! He won't admit when something's affecting him and neither will you, you're more alike than both of you would ever admit!" Jones snorted again and attempted to rise up from the bench. Martha reacted quickly, reaching for his wrist and trying to pull him back down. In the end it was his own decision, Martha knew she wasn't strong enough to force him back by her side. "See, that was a human reaction Captain. I said something that you didn't like and you were about to leave the conversation,"
"I was about tae throw ye out!" replied Jones with some humour returning to his voice.
"I know I deserve better, you were right. But The Doctor, he's like…I can't describe what he's like in enough words. He's just different. He affects people wherever he goes; he's their hero and sometimes their friend. I just think he needs someone to keep him grounded and I…I keep hoping it will be me,"
Jones sighed "he's unpredictable and powerful and yer drawn tae him, though y'know ye should stay away,"
"Voice of experience again?" Martha queried with a raised eyebrow.
"Aye, and in the end, I forsook everythin' she asked of me. I hid away the one thing that had always been hers,"
"It didn't stop you feeling, did it?"
Jones drew in a sad breath and picked his locket up. Even in the gloom Martha could see a pained look in his eyes. "It's worse, now that infernal thing is back on my ship,"
"In my time, we only see it as a practical thing, needed to stay alive," said Martha, checking Jones's expression to gauge whether or not she should continue. "Emotions are connected to the metaphysical. Ok that word probably doesn't exist yet, what I mean is that what we feel has no physical form but we create one in our mind. I don't believe you could ever truly be…"
"Say it," Jones quietly hissed.
Martha gulped "heartless," She raised a trembling hand, as she had done when she first saw the heart, and cautiously hovered her fingers over Jones's chest. This time he didn't force her hand away, in fact she was sure that two longer tentacles separated for her. Martha didn't know what she was attempting. Was it to satisfy her curiosity and feel for a scar to confirm once and for all that the heart really was his? Perhaps she wanted to illustrate her point about feelings with actually touching the offending spot. Either way, she was unsure. He could simply be tolerating this to a certain point before his temper reached critical mass. Martha's fingertips were close now, so close that they brushed against the small barnacles on the lapel of Jones's coat. She gulped again.
It didn't matter. A loud bang from behind them caused Martha to jump and she quickly withdrew her hand. Both she and Jones turned around to face the door. Mercer and a handful of his men had entered unannounced. They were carrying the chest and an assortment of weapons. Mercer, with a wry smile, took great delight in taunting the two of them. "Now then, that's enough bonding for one night. Given the lateness of the hour…anyone would think you were up to something," he sneered. "Better get back to your quarters girl, busy day ahead of us. We've got a brethren to attack,"
Martha stood, casually holding one hand behind her back. After a moment's confusion, Jones recognised her intentions and retrieved the other locket, slipping it into Martha's hand. Martha clasped both her hands in front of her as she stepped over the bench and kept her head held high as she walked towards Mercer. "I was just saying goodnight," she snapped.
As she left the cabin, she closed the door just enough so that she could peer through the tiny crack and hopefully listen to what Mercer had to say. It was a bit muffled but the venom in his voice was obvious "Are you going to co-operate Jones, or do I have to bring the girl back in and shoot her?"
Martha couldn't see but she was certain that Mercer pushed Jones in the chest a couple of times and maybe hit him across the head too. "Fight back you idiot," she whispered under her breath, feeling personally responsible for putting Jones in a vulnerable mood. With the heart in his possession Mercer clearly felt invincible. However, Martha knew that pride was always followed by a fall. She almost smiled at the thought that the next twenty-four hours may well be Mercer's last.
-0-0-0-
Jack Sparrow was scaling the rather unstable heights of Shipwreck Cove. "One false step and you'll be putting your foot through the roof and onto the table," he muttered to himself as he struggled to balance. He moved up to the final level where a man could possibly stand without collapsing the entire structure. He gave a satisfied sigh as he stood up straight and stretched out his arms. Something troubled him. His mouth fell open and he slowly lowered his arms. "Oh," the only word he could manage when confronted with a big blue box, perching quite safely on top of the mass of wrecked vessels below.
Jack knew two things about boxes. They usually contained treasure but unfortunately they were very rarely left unguarded. "Not your conventional box of treasure," he mused "and I must say Police Public Call is an odd name…" he shuffled closer and ran his hands along the corners "bugger me, there's an apostrophe missing," he shiftily glanced over his shoulder and felt for a way into the box, pushing the doors open slightly once he had located them. "Ah well, what does a correct grasp of the inner workings of the English language matter when there's treasure to be had," he said as he stepped over the threshold, expecting to be confined to a very small space full of gold stacked up to three times his height.
Sparrow nervously looked around and his upper lip twitched. He leapt backwards out of the box onto the upturned hull. He frantically sidestepped around the box, feeling with his hands and occasionally tapping against the wood. With some hesitation he walked back through the doors. He blinked, the sight before him still not what he expected. "There comes a time when one must realise that one must stop drinking rum," he paused "I can't believe those words came out of me mouth anymore than agreeing with the murderess down there…"
Suddenly The Doctor's interrupted Sparrow's outer monologue "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're quite sober at this moment in time," The Doctor walked through a door on the opposite side of the console room, confusing Sparrow further because it implied this place was even bigger.
"Am I back in the Locker?" asked Sparrow, still not wanting to move any further. The Doctor stood still with his hands in his pockets trying not to laugh.
"No," he replied.
"Is this a dream?"
"Nope," The Doctor moved over to the console and Sparrow copied him, albeit timidly. His fear however soon subsided. He spotted a small green orb that appeared to be of significant value. The Doctor was busy looking at something else. Sparrow subtly reached over, his fingers almost touching that wonderful prize. "Don't even think about it, touch that while we're not moving and the entire world, along with everything else, gets sucked into a black hole," The Doctor warned.
"Is there any treasure in here at all?"
"Nope, no treasure," The Doctor replied, resuming his hands in pockets stance. Sparrow stuck out his bottom lip in disappointment and backed away from the console. "Here," said The Doctor after he had searched his pockets. He threw a small box over to Sparrow who was quick to react and caught it. The Doctor smiled "take one of those,"
Sparrow was squashing the packet in his hand "what are they?" he asked with some degree of suspicion.
"Post-post mortem and reincarnation pain relief," said The Doctor "also known as paracetamol, well a more advanced form of paracetamol" he added.
Sparrow had worked out how to open the small flap on the side and was now sifting through the three layers of foil, pressing his thumbs against the raised capsules on the white underside. "Poisoned," he muttered.
"Oh come on now Sparrow, I know far more effective ways of killing you. That is if I wanted to in the first place," he smiled again "trust me, you may be every so slightly annoying but I know how it feels. Swallow one of those and I promise you the headaches and the hallucinations will stop,"
Sparrow popped one of the capsules and sniffed the contents within. He then placed the tablet on his tongue. He shuddered as he swallowed it, not expecting such a bland taste. Misunderstanding The Doctor's instructions he popped another capsule and was about to take a second tablet until The Doctor rushed over and snatched the box away from him. "Just one Jack, unless you really do want to die. Again,"
"Once is enough," said Sparrow, smacking his lips.
"Going to be twice for you I'm afraid. Now, I have a proposition,"
"I like propositions, especially if they involve treasure," he thought for a moment "or rum,"
"Oooh," The Doctor exclaimed, "this is much better. You don't want to be fighting with that lot. You want to be on the Flying Dutchman, that's where all the actions going to be, it's where I'm going to be, all that fighting over one heart. We can do a sweepstake on who will get it first,"
"Eh?" Jack was once again somewhat confused.
"Never mind, I'm probably using words that don't exist again. Anyway we can use my ship here, what do you say?"
"You mean, this contraption is a ship?" replied Jack with an amused smirk. The Doctor nodded. "I think someone's had a little too much rum mate, and it ain't me,"
"This contraption is a much more advanced ship than anything that you know of Sparrow, after everything you've seen in your life and even afterlife I doubt you actually doubt what I've just told you,"
"Well, if it temporarily gets me away from an unfortunate number of people who for some reason honestly unknown to myself want to kill me…I'm good with it!"
The Doctor sucked in a breath. Sparrow wasn't going to like his answer. "Actually, we need to talk to them first. I have something to tell them," Sparrow opened his mouth to protest "don't worry Jack, just convince them to trust me and I promise you'll very much be a free man…"
-0-0-0-
I have to say that this is the first time I've stuck with a WIP this long so I'm quite proud to have reached chapter 11 and I'm grateful for all the reviews and favourites. I hope I'll finish this so that I don't disappoint so many people.
I'm probably more than half way through now and I don't normally add chapter endnotes on my interpretation of my own way of writing characters but I thought I might do it this time so that people can compare it to any of their own.
1. Martha's behaviour: My own view is that she is still mostly acting out of sympathy and the fact that Jones can sympathise with her own unrequited love. He does sympathise, but I think he might also be jealous that The Doctor has someone who is seemingly devoted to him, hence occasional hostility towards Martha. (I am however writing with a degree of ambiguity so if people see that there's something else there then I'm glad, because it means I'm doing something right!)
I thought the way Martha was portrayed in new series 3 of Doctor Who was a bit unfair a times. It felt like she only cared about The Doctor (because he's pretty) and whenever she was separated from him she'd be paired off with the nearest (attractive) supporting male. One of the reasons I specifically wanted Martha in this story was because it gives me a chance to explore how she'd relate to someone who was not only morally monstrous but physically grotesque also. I think Martha knows that Jones isn't a very nice person but she's also a clever girl so knows that his behaviour is often his way of hiding his pain.
2. The Doctor parallels: Throughout the entire history of Doctor Who, The Doctor has usually been the voice of reason. He's been made more emotional in the revived series but I feel that the tenth Doctor especially denies exactly how much something is affecting him. In the new series 3 he's often very rude to Martha or shows off to cover up the pain of losing yet another companion and perhaps to ignore that Martha will one day be gone too. I find his rudeness in particular a less extreme version of the cruelty exhibited by one such as Davy Jones. The Doctor is being flippant because people expect him to be strong; likewise Jones clearly felt severely weakened by emotions and so uses cruelty as a way of emphasising his strength.
3. Jack: I confess! The only reason The Doctor risked going to Shipwreck Cove in the first place was for Jack. In spite of an apparent dislike at first, I believe that The Doctor will recognise that Jack can be quite intelligent and is constantly scheming. He is a good person to have on side. The Doctor knows that Jack will do anything to preserve his lifestyle and so is tempting Jack with the prospect of stabbing the heart. Naturally The Doctor doesn't want this outcome but if I say any more I'll give my ending away!