Title: Devil of the Seas
Rating: K+ for now, just for mild violence
Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone here, I'm just borrowing it.
Full summary: The Doctor has promised to show Martha the Caribbean in the eighteenth century but unwittingly traps them both on the legendary Flying Dutchman. Soon they become tangled in a contest between supernatural immortals and arrogant imperialists for control of the untameable oceans. The Doctor is quite literally out of his depth as he faces some of his cruellest and manipulative opponents, who are also at war with each other. In order to secure Martha's safety, he must find the heart of Davy Jones, or risk losing Martha forever. Crossover between Doctor Who and the Pirates of the Caribbean universe
Notes: Anybody who is hoping to see The Doctor meet Jack Sparrow or Will Turner is probably going to be disappointed. I'm not going to include them much, if at all. I know some people hate crossover fics because characters meet for the sake of meeting, so unless those characters are used as an important plot point, I'm not going to write them in. I like complex anti-heroes and would rather see The Doctor meet Davy Jones than any of the "heroes" - sorry! I'm probably goint to take liberties with the layout of the Dutchman too because there's so much of it that we never see in the films.
Will possibly fit into canon for Doctor Who after Smith and Jones and prior to Utopia but is definitely AU for POTC, because I'm setting this in the time between Dead Man's Chest and At World's End and seeing as I had the idea before I watched the latter I'm going to end up changing things quite a bit. May contain spoilers for season 3 of Doctor Who and the POTC films.
Chapter One:
The sea was calm and the night air still. For once, the deep open waters of the ocean appeared to be soothed. Only the gentle breaking of very small waves was audible as they glided effortlessly across the horizon. The sky was clear, the stars shimmering like diamonds against a black shawl, fluttering against the relatively smooth surface of the water. Black merged into black and the stars were reflected in a watery mirror, seemingly moving in a slow waltz. After a few moments the tranquillity of this scene was torn asunder as a distinctly mechanical sound whirred around the open space, followed by an eerie silence. It was far from a return to normality.
Martha Jones, as usual, was the first to rush to the doors of the TARDIS. With a look of giddy glee across her face, she pushed open the police-box doors and readied herself to peer outside.
"I can't believe we're actually going to be in the Caribbean!" she said in a tone similar to a child who had just woken up on Christmas morning. Yet she did not step outside immediately. She looked over her shoulder, fingers still splayed against the TARDIS doors and her expression changed. The Doctor was faffing and he was faffing so much he'd not even managed to pull on his coat properly. One arm was still coatless, and pressing buttons on the TARDIS console. "Doctor!" Martha yelled, snapping him out of his trance.
"Yes, yes…the Caribbean, hooray all very exciting…" muttered The Doctor, slipping his arm into the sleeve of his coat and shrugging it onto his shoulders. He leant forward to stare at the image produced on the monitor, after yet more fiddling with buttons. His bottom lip curled and he wordlessly reached into his jacket pocket for his glasses, perching the thick rims upon his nose and squinting.
"Somethin' wrong?" asked Martha, removing her hands from the doors and turning to place them upon her hips, arching an agitated brow.
"No, well technically, but no…" replied The Doctor, removing his glasses but keeping them in his hand at his side "it's the right century, and this is the Caribbean but…" he paused and made a hmmph sound under his breath "it's not looking very…Carribean-y out there," he said, pressing more buttons and adjusting the view on the monitor. Martha rolled her eyes and stomped over to the console, hoping to shoot her best "this better be important" look but The Doctor was too enraptured by whatever he was looking at, or not looking at as it turned out.
"It's…dark," Martha stated flatly. "Where's all this sun, sand and pirates that you promised me? Untouched by the western world you said, a kingdom for those without rulers you told me, immeasurable freedom you promised…"
"That's enough Martha," The Doctor said calmly, though with enough sternness in his voice to quieten his rather talkative companion. He held her gaze for a second or two and then allowed a cheeky smirk to creep across his face. Martha had to resist another roll of her eyes; she knew that look too well. It was the look of "I'm about to suggest something that will potentially get us into a lot of trouble" that she had come to appreciate…sometimes. "We're here now anyway!" he raised his voice slightly and leapt light-footed over to the double doors that had closed again as soon as Martha had removed her hands. "Might as well make the most of it, explore a little!" he beamed. Before Martha could protest he had flung open the doors (with a little too much enthusiasm) and disappeared into the darkness beyond. With a sigh, Martha quickly followed, stopping to shut the doors and causing a loud click to echo above them, confirming that they were within a structure of sorts.
It was extremely dark. The only light currently available was emitted from the small square windows of the TARDIS doors and that served poorly as a way of illuminating the endless black ahead. Martha felt like she had just walked into a house that was on fire, the dark swamped her vision and for some reason there was a bite to the air that stung her eyes. The atmosphere was humid, as one would expect in the Caribbean but it also had a hint of something fresh that Martha could not place. She paused, turning her head and straining to hear The Doctor's footsteps. He moved so gracefully that he barely made a sound and was being drowned out by another sound, faint but definitely easy to identify. Flowing water could be heard from all directions and Martha furrowed her brow. Perhaps The Doctor had found her some sea after all, but there was something quite puzzling about that moderate rocking motion beneath their feet.
"There you are!" exclaimed The Doctor, temporarily blinding Martha as he pointed a brilliant blue light in her face. "That damned sonic screwdriver!" Martha thought as she raised an arm to shield her burning eyeballs from The Doctor's carelessness. "Always carry a torch Martha, torches are good," said The Doctor.
"It was bananas the other week," she replied, glaring at him as he lowered the sonic screwdriver to a more comfortable height. Good, now she wasn't in danger of having a blue dot seared to her retinas. Before The Doctor could reply, there was a quick succession of three distinct creaking sound and both Doctor and Martha stretched out their arms, feeling their way to the edge of the structure. It was amazing how one look could communicate such understanding between them, the creak had intrigued them both and so top priority was to find out where in the Caribbean they had landed. Martha's right hand touched something slippery and she instantly drew back before she realised that another texture had grazed her fingertips. "Of course!" she thought, the origin of the creaking suddenly more obvious. She reached in front of herself again and this time curled her fingers over a gap between two strips of wood, completely sodden with water. "I think I know where we are…" she mused, ducking down slightly and peering through the gap.
"You do?" asked The Doctor, shining that blasted light directly in her face again. His mouth was set in a way that bared his teeth, his jaw slightly relaxed into a dumbfounded expression.
"I think…we're on a ship," replied Martha, expecting to be congratulated. Instead The Doctor's forehead creased.
"Well that's maddeningly unhelpful!" he scoffed. Oh he was in for it now, he sheepishly looked down and braced himself for the tirade of a Jones's fury but when it didn't come, he attempted to soften his frustration. "I mean…what ship? Could be any ship, need to know if we're in any danger…"
"Sorry, I don't make a habit of eighteenth-century ship spotting!" snapped Martha, The Doctor visibly wincing at her tone, ah there was the fury at last. "Since when have you cared about danger?"
"Well…" The Doctor trailed off, almost dancing over to the other end of the structure and taking the light with him, Martha had no choice but to follow, stepping in small puddles of water along the way. At least, she hoped it was water, and she was quite relieved that she decided to wear boots today. "Depends what kind of danger," The Doctor's voice sounded a little quieter, as though he was now on higher ground "you can never be too sure and…ouch!" Martha failed to suppress a giggle as a thud was followed by a clank of metal. She reached the bottom of a half-visible stepladder construction and had just enough light courtesy of the sonic screwdriver to see The Doctor nursing his head. He was either rubbing his scalp or smoothing his hair back into place, either way Martha decided he deserved it for his harsh tone just a few moments ago.
"Y'alright?" she laughed, cautiously grasping the handrails and putting one foot on the bottom rung. It groaned beneath her, threatening to buckle under her weight, this ship clearly had a chronic case of damp or woodworm. The Doctor didn't reply, he had managed to open a trapdoor above their heads and was already up onto this next level as Martha reached the top and narrowly missed a smack in the face from one of his trainers. It was difficult hauling herself out of that small square of wood, especially given that it was extremely damp and difficult to grip. At first Martha was annoyed that her clothes were becoming wet across the stomach and on parts of her thighs, but that was nothing compared to the pool of water she unwittingly crawled into once her entire body was completely out of the trapdoor. She groaned and propped herself up, flattening her palms against the filth underneath the water that squelched against her skin.
"Mind the puddle…" said The Doctor, a slight smug tone detectable in his voice.
"You knew?" she hissed. Rising to her feet, scowling in the direction of The Doctor, whose back was turned. He was in full investigation mode, holding up the light to anything he could find and quickly scanning it.
"Look before you leap, Martha" he advised, popping his glasses back on and leaning forward to study something more closely. They were yet to reach the top deck, but this upper-deck was a lot more decorative than the first. He guessed that the first was purely for cargo, but this appeared to be the gun deck, the cannons scattered about confirmed that enough. What was most intriguing was the fusion of barnacles and shellfish with the body of the ship on almost every surface. The carving in front of The Doctor had a worn look of years of neglect but somehow managed to gleam as though it were new. Upon closer inspection, The Doctor discovered that the gleam was caused by the moonlight reflecting off an organic texture, sprouting from the grooves of the carving and forming a skin across the wood. He raised the sonic screwdriver and blue met with green, confirming his suspicion that this "skin" was in fact seaweed. "This is bad…"
"What've you found?" asked Martha, but The Doctor ignored her and took off his glasses, slipping them back into a random pocket.
"Martha…get back to the TARDIS," a tremble of concern clinging to his command.
"What? Why?" she protested.
"Just do it!" he snapped, walking briskly back over to her. She didn't move. "Martha I mean it, we're in serious trouble,"
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong oh all-knowing one?" she demanded, at the end of her tether with his annoying habit of instantly realising everything. This time, she wouldn't be going anywhere until he told her.
"I'll explain later, just go!" ok, she could've guessed he would avoid her question with his tailor-made answer. As far as Martha was concerned, this ship was abandoned and whatever had The Doctor spooked was nothing that two minutes explanation could provoke. However, she underestimated his sense of urgency and was quite surprised when he crushed her hand in his and dragged her back towards the trapdoor. Her pleas that he was hurting her seemingly fell on deaf ears and it dawned on her that there was probably a reason he didn't answer her.
Several cracks and creaks echoed about the deck and a rushing forth of rhythmic pounding followed. It sounded like several pairs of feet, but there was little to indicate they were human feet. With each stride, a slimy united squelch was audible and whatever was causing it was very swift. The Doctor was not even half way to the trapdoor and both he and Martha were already surrounded. The figures circling them were holding torches, but at a height that did not remove the shadows from their collective faces. Martha's heart was racing and The Doctor's grip became so tight she could no longer feel her fingers. It became apparent that not every one of the figures was holding a torch and Martha soon found the reason. Those holding torches had something that vaguely resembled hands and fingers, often covered in scales or suckers. In the flickering light of the multiple torches, Martha could see appendages that were definitely not hands, instead some wrists ended with claws or fins, usually covered in barnacles.
"Doctor…" Martha whimpered. The torches were raised and the flames danced across a multitude of vile, inhuman faces. The being directly in front of The Doctor and Martha lunged forward with a snarl. Martha's breath caught in her throat with a gasp as a semi-human face studied her closely. "He's more shark than human…" she thought, trying to maintain some composure by reassuring herself that she had seen far worse. Still, the stench of the sea that coated this being's breath made her feel nauseous, and she was certain she might faint.
"Looks like we got ourselves some stowaways," sneered the shark, giving a subtle nod and the creatures behind The Doctor and Martha rushed forward, prising both apart and seizing them by the arms. Martha groaned at the pain of her shoulders being forced back and shuddered as a pair of slimy hands grabbed her wrists. The Doctor appeared to be unaffected. "Bastard" she thought. "Palifico!" barked the shark-man. A hideous mangle of various coral life forms in the shape of a man stepped out of the gloom behind him. "Wake the Cap'n, he'll be wanting to deal with this personally" and with that every last member of this misshapen crew let out a loud cackle. A pincer jabbed into The Doctor's back, silently he conceded that things were only about to get worse. Before stepping forward, he took one last glance at his companion. She looked back, hopelessly but with a flare of anger colouring her eyes. She couldn't possibly expect him to explain what was happening as it was happening! Still, there was also a sense that she had reached a similar confusion. Whatever awaited them above deck was about to make the experience so far seem like a trip to Disneyland.
Above deck, the crew doused their torches and forced The Doctor and Martha to stand next to some decayed railings, covered in barnacles somewhere on the starboard side. There were no lamps visible anywhere on the deck, it seemed that these creatures relied purely on natural light. The torches had simply made it easier to find their trespassers; either that or it was a very cruel mind game. The sudden reveal of their nightmarish faces had obviously frightened Martha. Although the air was humid, the temperature was quite cool, typical of a hot climate in the middle of the night. Martha was visibly shivering, much to the amusement of her captors.
"Where are we then?" she hissed, leaning towards The Doctor whose eye line was fixed firmly upon the crew men watching them. He dropped his gaze, managing to half look at Martha without moving a muscle. She heard him suck in a breath through his teeth, displaying even more stubborn reluctance to just answer the bloody question.
"We're on the Flying Dutchman," he whispered with a sigh. Martha was taken aback and her lower jaw dropped.
"You're kidding? First you trap me on a ship full of fish people and now you decide to tell me…"
"Enough!" a new voice silenced Martha's rage. It was commanding, impatient and apparently Scottish. "First fish people and now a Scot in the Caribbean…" thought Martha, mentally rolling her eyes. Her internal chattering was interrupted by a thud. She shivered again and bowed her head, as that single thud alone had unsettled her and she certainly didn't want to find out what caused it. Thud…pause…thud a regular pattern formed and each thud grew louder. Martha could feel the blood raging in her ears and felt as though a sword was dangling mere inches from her head. Another thud and she was chilled to the bone, the repetitive pounding like a nail being hammered into her soul. Silence. In her line of vision, and a single small stride in front of her feet, Martha could see the outline of one large foot and a leg that had no foot but instead ended at a point. As far as she could tell, the footless leg resembled part of a crab, which would certainly explain that ominous thudding. There was a knot in her stomach that grew tighter and she was seconds away from praying that this thing would move on and interrogate The Doctor instead
It moved forward slightly and Martha felt something cold and slippery curl under her chin. Both arms were clearly visible at this creature's side, and Martha felt sick wondering what disgusting mutation was sliding against her skin. She could see a single tentacle doubled back on itself, and with a surprising amount of strength for something so flimsy looking it forced her head upwards. She found herself staring into a pair of bright blue but also very angry looking eyes that were the least unsettling aspect of this new creature. From under a tattered tricorne and framing a face of high cheekbones and leathery skin were at least forty tentacles writhing with a life of their own. Martha tried to look away again but the tentacle against her throat was resilient and pushed against her chin with considerable strength.
"Ye'll look at me when I'm speaking tae y'lass!" snapped the captain.
"You weren't doing much talking," Martha replied boldly, earning a scowl for her troubles.
"I'm talkin' now wench!" he snarled, another tentacle moving to brush a loose section of hair from Martha's face. She shuddered again, his touch was so cold and quite repulsive but there was also a fire rising in the pit of her stomach, anger directed at The Doctor. He made no attempt at defending her honour after being called wench. Oh, if she survived this The Doctor was going to wish he didn't possess a pair of eardrums. She was planning to rage until his ears bled. "As fer you!" said the captain, finally removing those disgusting things from Martha's face and moving over to The Doctor with a single thud. "What is your purpose here?" demanded the captain, making an unpleasant popping sound with his lips.
"Ah you know, this and that…" The Doctor cocked his head in arrogant defiance. The captain's lips curled up into another snarl and he stomped forward, his skin almost touching The Doctor's nose.
"Don't test me pretty boy!" growled the captain, spitting water out of his mouth and all over The Doctor's face. The Doctor drew back, lifting a hand to wipe his cheek and studying his flesh with revulsion.
"We're explorers…travellers, got a bit lost, apparently,"
"Travellers y'say?" the captain touched a single tentacle to his lips and appeared to be lost in thought. The Doctor seized the opportunity to retrieve his sonic screwdriver, which he had slipped into his trouser pocket during the commotion below deck. He was well aware that numerous pairs, or occasionally varied numbers, of eyes were surveying his every movement so he recognised the need for subtlety. He kept his right hand firmly pressed against his leg and angled his elbow towards the sea behind, trying his best to create an illusion that his arm wasn't moving. He had almost removed the sonic screwdriver completely when a long tentacle shot out with merciless precision and coiled around his wrist, yanking his arm up to face level. The captain's expression became noticeably enraged and a different tentacle slithered along The Doctor's fingers, pulling them open and seizing the sonic screwdriver. "What is this?"
"It's a writing implement" The Doctor lied. The captain did not look amused.
"Ye think I'm stupid?" he said, raising the sonic screwdriver to The Doctor's eye line. The Doctor willed himself to not look so obviously distraught that his favourite toy was now in the hands, well tentacles, of his captor. Evidently, The Doctor didn't try hard enough; a sinister smirk crept across the captain's face, followed by a low chuckle. "Ye be needin' this fer something, aye?" The Doctor didn't even flinch. The tentacle holding the sonic screwdriver wrapped around it several times and was joined by another sliding up the lower part of the device. Snap. Until that point, Martha had been looking at the deck again but she soon came crashing down to reality upon hearing what sounded like a gunshot. It was worse than a gunshot. The first thing she noticed was the pained expression worn by The Doctor, his bottom lip trembling in anger and his brown eyes appearing darker in the bright moonlight. Directly in front of The Doctor, there stood the captain with two tentacles outstretched on opposite sides of his face, gripping one half of the now defunct sonic screwdriver. With a snort, he flicked each tentacle, one after the other and tossed the fragments overboard. Martha was certain that The Doctor grimaced as two faint splashed occurred soon after.
"You can't do that!" The Doctor whined, feeling as though he had just lost a limb.
"I just did, ha!" replied the captain, his crew creating a chorus of laughter behind him. Now it was he who tested The Doctor. He was exhaling so harshly that he sounded like a bull about to charge at a red flag. The laughter continued and The Doctor bit down on his bottom lip. Until now he had managed to stay relatively calm, but the loss of his sonic screwdriver had obliterated his flawless reserve. He was about two seconds away from unleashing a maelstrom of verbal abuse.
"Oh I get it…" he snapped, the laughter ceased and the captain glared at The Doctor, his expression returning to its usual spitefulness "…the only power you have is on this ship, on the seas…so here you are lording it about like some overgrown bully just because you can, when really you'd be nothing were it not for your curse" The Doctor brashly stepped away from the railing and began pacing the decks, breaking through the chain of crew men surrounding him. They were clearly too shocked to deal with him, rarely did they witness a man willing to walk without fear around their captain, never mind insult him. "And that's what stings most, isn't it hmm?" asked The Doctor, turning back to face the captain whose tentacles were now flailing in obvious irritation. "Your curse is both your best and worst asset, how that residual sting of loneliness must burn," he paused, squaring up to the captain and titling his head to appear taller. It was futile of course; the captain still loomed over The Doctor by a good inch or two. "Isn't that right, Davy Jones?"
Davy Jones let out a bestial growl and lunged forward, raising the arm topped by a crab claw and clamping it around The Doctor's throat. Numerous tentacles wrapped around his upper arms and his chest, lifting him off the ground enough to make him choke. Bravely, The Doctor never averted his gaze, looking Jones directly in the eyes while his breath staggered and spit began to bubble at the corners of his mouth. In the background he could hear Martha screaming but the words were difficult to make out as his double heartbeat pulsated around his head and he contemplated letting his respiratory bypass system do the rest. Suddenly, Jones's face fell into confusion, and his tentacles recoiled in horror as though they had been scorched by something unappealing. He gently set The Doctor down and loosened his hold around The Doctor's throat, but kept his claw there and narrowed his eyes with suspicion. He turned his head towards the shark-man who had captured Martha and The Doctor.
"Brig!" he boomed and retracted his claw from The Doctor "both of them!" he added before taking his leave of the situation. The crew did not utter a word as they moved to seize their new prisoners again. All that could be heard was the increasingly muffled thud, thud, thud of Davy Jones's peg leg, sounding a death knell for Martha and The Doctor as they were dragged below deck.