"Things I've Done"

Chapter Two (Raked)

The Doctor awoke, his head throbbing.

He tried to move but couldn't. His arms twisted awkwardly. Wrists, bound behind his back. His entire body felt dragged, bumped and bruised. Tossed in the corner and unconscious. Not quite the welcoming party he expected. Something cold bit his arms. A metal pole bolted to the wall. An ache that irritated his back.

He shook his dreary head. Tried to make sense of the yellow blur around him.

Small room. Messy bed. Luggage and a bizarre sliding door. Not a cargo hold and not the TARDIS. He breathed deep, trying to suck in the pain at the back of his head.

"Ouch!"

His cry of pain was elongated and dry. Out for a few hours.

"Awake I see." Came a voice.

It was deep and unfriendly. Tinted with an unmistakable accent. Improper and abused. Lowlife, he suspected. Hadn't popped in on a rich couple's home. More like a hideout. Or worse.

The voice came from a dark figure across the room. A man hunched against the wall, he seemed exhausted and agitated. A roughed up pup in defense.

The Doctor couldn't quite see the man's expression, but he could feel the burn of his unkindly stare.

"Apparently, I'm not in Kansas anymore." Said the Doctor.

"You'll have to excuse the lack of introductions. I'm still debating on riddling you with holes."

The figure slowly became clearer. The bump on the Doctor's head now subsiding. His clothes were dirty, dark and worked in. Trusty garments for a traveler.

"Ship?" asked the Doctor.

"What?"

"Ship. We're on a ship, right?"

The man stood up straighter and came closer. A limp step and dragged foot. He was in the same looking condition as the Doctor.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

"I'm the Doctor. Ship? You didn't answer my question."

The man eyed him suspiciously.

"Yes."

"Ah, good. Not a cruiser, I suspect. Nor military – based on the look of your 'uniform.' Free trader? Judging by the size of the cargo hold, this is a small class transporter. Probably no guns. Made specifically to get from point A to B."

"Don't you know who I am?" asked the man, confused.

The Doctor looked at him blankly, "No."

"Then why are you here? And who were those people?"

The Doctor shook his head.

"You'll have to excuse me. I don't know what you're talking about."

The man stepped closer again. His face now vivid.

"I am Captain Malcolm Reynolds. This is my ship, Serenity."

Jane stood dumbfounded at the top of the stairs. His eyes not believing what was in front of him.

"What the hell?"

A screeching, churning croak echoed through the cargo hold. Off to the side of the room appeared a giant blue box. Big glowing letters shinning on top, "Police Box."

Jane ran to the nearest radio and slammed the switch.

"Mal! Mal!" he yelled.

It took a moment, but he finally replied.

"What?" he grumbled.

"There's a ghost box! Get down here now!"

The door shifted. Something inside moved. Jane darted to it. Stopped dead in front of the door.

It started to open.

He slid to the side and waited. His heart pounding. Unsure of what to do next.

The handle clicked. The door squeaked. It swung open.

Out stepped a weird looking man in a suit and bowtie.

"Ah, a cargo ho—"

Jane bonked the man on the head. Used the butt end of a revolver. Doing the only thing he could think of. The doors to the box slammed shut as the suited man fell unconscious.

"Jane? What in go-ram were you talking about?" griped Mal from above.

He leaned over the top railing furiously, staring down at innocent Jane and a crippled looking stranger.

Mal looked down at him confused.

"When did we get a blue box?"

The haul shook violently. A thundering roar came from the beams.

"What should we do with him?" Asked Jane, his voice shaken.

"Tie him up in the back room and get up to the bridge."

"My men. My crew!"

"Look, Captain," said the Doctor, "I promise you, I have nothing to do with whatever happened to your men. I can help you."

Mal's head drooped.

"It's too late. This ship is done. Dead in the water. It's only so many hours until its power is completely dead and we run out of air… again."

The Doctor sat up straighter.

"It so happens to be that I'm a genius at mechanics."

Mal cocked his head.

"I thought you were a doctor."

"I am," he retorted, "a machine doctor."

"Huh?"

"Hello," he smiled and tried to wave.

"Ah yes, can you help me out here? This is really uncomfortable."

Mal crossed his arms.

"You'd help me out?"

"Of course. We're both dead in the water. Two peas in a pod - or however that goes."

"You're dead in the water?"

"Yep. My ship died as well when I landed here."

"Your ship? You mean that box?"

"Yes, well. It might not be as glamorous as this one. Well, it's about the same. Well actually it's a bit better. But that's aside the point."

Mal raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"How do I know that you're not just lying to me?"

"If I was, I wouldn't be here would I? The people who took your friends would have taken me as well."

He paused.

"Okay."

"Cool!" chirped the Doctor, "Now, let's get me out of these things."