The Adventures of the Doctor and Rory the Roman: Three
1251 AD
“I can’t thank you enough,” Rory said. “This is more important than you know.”
“I am only sorry for the wrongs my brethren have been doing. Please believe we are not all like that,” the young man said.
Rory didn’t know his name, but he knew the man was good. This young priest had almost singlehandedly saved the Pandorica from falling into the hands of the Inquisitors and personally arranged passage for it on a boat to the Orient.
“I can well believe it,” Rory assured him. “I wish all men had faith like yours.”
“It is possible for all men,” the priest said. “I wish you good fortune and safe journey.”
“My thanks,” Rory said, almost grateful for a chance to use Latin again. He had a feeling that it would be engraved in his head forever. “Be well.”
“God go with you.”
Rory slipped into the shadows of the Pandorica as it was lifted into the hold. It was a bit dangerous traveling like this, but he didn’t really feel like he could keep the Pandorica on the main continent anymore. The Inquisition wasn’t quite in full force, but it was getting there. Wars and fights for succession were happening all over the place. It was a dangerous time to be a mysterious stranger with an enigmatic box. His only fear was that somehow their boat would be lost and the Pandorica would sink to the bottom of the ocean. He still hadn’t quite decided what he would do if that happened. He had a brief thought that he probably wouldn’t be able to withstand the pressures of the deep even if he didn’t need to breathe. His best bet would be to wait until he could find the Doctor again and see if the Tardis could get down there.
Hopefully he wouldn’t need to worry about that. But it was his job to think about these kinds of things.
The boat creaked and shifted and Rory looked around nervously. He’d never liked traveling by water even on the sturdier boats of his time. His human time, that is, not his plastic time, those boats were even less safe. It was damp and he wrapped his cloak around him securely. He did feel the cold even if it didn’t really affect him. Still, he felt more human when he was approximating human behavior. He felt the ship pull away from the dock and the sailors running around overhead as the captain called orders. It would be some weeks before they reached their destination and while he could probably get away with not being called a stowaway - the captain seemed to be a good friend of Rory’s priest - he didn’t really want to be seen.
The days seemed to melt into one another. In one way, that is; Rory could almost always feel that clock in his head, counting out the days and hours and minutes, keeping him on track. But he spent a lot of time reciting dates in his head to keep them straight, and conjugating Greek and Spanish verbs, really brushing up on his Mandarin, naming all the major organs and bones in the body and the different treatments for whatever disease he could think of. He also spent a lot of time being thankful he couldn’t get seasick.
They were about a week into their voyage when someone found him. Rory had been lost in thought and didn’t notice there was someone examining the box. Which was against orders since he’d heard the captain say there would be strict consequences for anyone who tampered with the cargo. It wasn’t until the man rounded the corner, muttering about the sigils that Rory looked up, feeling - and probably looking - very startled. The other man looked the same and Rory put his left hand to his sword which he’d started hanging on the right side of his body - oh, about a thousand years ago - since he primarily used his right hand for shooting.
“Who are you?” the man asked, finally shutting his gaping mouth.
“A guard. You’re not supposed to be down here.”
“Ah, yes, well, I couldn’t really help it. This box is so fascinating. I’ve heard rumors, but I hadn’t thought they could be true. I would like to sketch it. I would love to study it. Can’t we keep this our little secret?”
“It is not for the general public.”
“I am hardly the public,” the man said a bit huffily. “Marco Polo may not be a grand name, but it is not unknown.”
Rory felt his eyes go a bit wide. He’d met some very famous people and some very important people, but Marco Polo was definitely both. He had the strangest urge to tell the man that a game had been named after him.
“You must understand,” he said, “this box is of vital importance. It cannot be harmed or opened. I must guard it.”
“I won’t even touch it,” Marco promised. “I won’t even mention to the captain that you’re down here.”
“He knows I’m down here,” Rory lied, rather smoothly he thought.
“Perhaps, but I think not. Your clothes rather mark the period that the mysterious Centurion is supposed to have appeared in.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Rory said.
“I’ll just go get the captain then, shall I?”
“If you’d like to reveal that you were down here unauthorized,” Rory said smugly.
“Then you’ll let me look at it?”
Rory pondered what was best here. After all, he doubted Marco Polo would use the box for nefarious means. And they were on a boat; it wasn’t like Rory could escape some place and take the box with him. And he’d rather not get into an altercation with the captain and perhaps have to kill everyone on board - including a very important historical figure that still had things he needed to do - then sail a boat he had only rudimentary knowledge of how to sail - why hadn’t the Doctor given him any books on that? - to a country that still really didn’t like foreigners coming into it.
“Only you and you may not touch it,” Rory said, patting his sword for emphasis.
“Thank you, my good sir,” Marco said. “We shall have a bond of silence between us.”
That didn’t actually sound very nice, but Rory didn’t question it.
So Marco started coming down into the hold every night while the crew were mostly sleeping in their bunks on the other side of the hold. A skeleton crew would be up top keeping watch. They didn’t talk a lot, mostly because they didn’t want to alert anyone to anything untoward happening.
Rory also felt very uncomfortable because he was forced to almost constantly put on his Centurion act and while he’d developed it down to a science, he still didn’t like it. And he actively worked at not liking it. He felt that the moment he did, the moment he embraced his role as the Last Centurion - that name had won out in the end, though there were still some factions of scholars who resolutely stuck to Lone Centurion - he would be lost forever. Rory Williams would cease to be and Roranicus or something would stiffen into automatic Auton mode and Amy would never really be able to see him as himself, even if he did manage to save her.
He was getting very melancholy in his old age. If he was anything like the Doctor he’d start acting like an idiot, but then, that would really mess with the oracle image as well. What a bother it all was.
Marco Polo was really rather nice though. He would ask questions about the box, which Rory would mostly refuse to answer unless it involved actual documented occurrences that the man could find out on his own through research. Marco had a lot of stories and when he would get bored of looking at the box and not feel like going upstairs yet, he’d tell them to Rory who liked the human contact, even if he tried to remain stoic throughout it all.
This went on for several weeks and then they had a storm. It was actually quite amazing that they hadn’t had one before then. Rory was nervous and all the passengers had been ordered below deck and so he was even more nervous with all the people rummaging about, even if they hadn’t ventured into the Pandorica’s storage yet. The storm raged for a whole night and water started to seep through the floorboards overhead. Anytime one of the crew would come down into the hold he brought a wave of water with him and bad news. Two men were lost overboard.
Then there was a loud crash that overpowered even the noise of the storm. Rory almost rushed to see what it was along with everyone else, but restrained himself. The passengers gathered below the hatch door and clamored to know what the matter was, what had happened, etc. It was a long time before the first mate stuck his head down and said that there was some strange blue box that had fallen and was on fire and they were trying to put it out and to pipe down. Only he used stronger language that even a plastic person wouldn’t repeat.
At that point Rory did make to go up on deck, trying to create somewhat of an impression as he appeared out of the hold and clambered onto deck. A bit hard when everything was slippery wet and he’d never been good on boats. Still, he imagined that a full Roman centurion suddenly bursting out from the hold in a storm might look rather good.
Looking around he spotted the Tardis immediately and it was on fire. The rain and waves were making short work of that, but he was worried about the Doctor and any possible companions.
“Did anyone come out of the box?” he asked, grabbing a nearby sailor.
“Yon lady,” the man said, looking frightened and pointing toward the captain who was struggling with a young woman.
Rory strode over and broke the captain’s hold on the woman’s arm. She was young and blonde and fighting rather desperately.
“Where’s the Doctor?” he asked her sharply.
She swallowed and looked at him for a few seconds before answering.
“He’s still in the Tardis,” she said. “We have to get him out, but this idiot isn’t letting me anywhere near it!”
She glared at the captain who was looking rather irritated and harassed and Rory imagined that fighting to keep a ship afloat through a storm was trial enough without dealing with fiery blue boxes, feisty girls, and sudden Romans.
“I will get him,” Rory told her. “What’s your name?”
“Jo.”
“I’ll get him out, Jo. Just be prepared to help, got it?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding and they hurried to the Tardis, which was now mostly smoking instead of burning.
Rory opened the door and peered inside, using his eyes to adjust to all the smoke. The Doctor was leaning against the console. Rory motioned for Jo to hold the doors open and then rushed inside, grabbing a hold of the man and dragging him to the outside. He knew the Doctor breathed a bit differently but Rory didn’t really think that even a Timelord could do with being in the smoke for long, especially while unconscious.
Once outside Rory shut tight the Tardis door to prevent anyone else from getting in there and he and Jo carried the Doctor down into the hold. Rory pulled his sword - taking care not to skewer his charge - and silently dared anyone to approach them. They stayed back, mostly because of Marco Polo, and Rory put the Doctor down next to the Pandorica.
“Doctor,” he called, opening the man’s eyelids and looking at his pupils and checking his body for breaks or bumps on the head. “Doctor!”
“I’m quite awake, thank you,” the Doctor said and Rory looked at him more thoroughly
This had to be the third doctor that Two had complained about. He was wearing a velvet jacket with a cloak slung around his shoulders and ruffles. Oh, the ruffles were glorious. Like a Jimmy Hendrix concert. He was tall with white hair, certainly the oldest looking of any of the Doctors Rory had seen. His nose rivaled Rory’s own which gave Rory a definite thrill of satisfaction and he had the strangest wish for a camera.
“What happened?” he asked.
“A slight miscalculation that brought us into contact with the rather irritable crew of a pirate ship,” the Doctor said, sitting up. “And who might you be?”
“It’s Rory.”
“Rory?”
“Don’t tell me that erasing your memory so much has actually caused you to forget me?”
Jo looked at him strangely but he ignored her.
“No, I remember you. And I’ve only erased my memory once, try and remember which Doctor you’re talking to, there’s a good chap. What on earth are you doing here?”
“Moving the Pandorica to safety.”
“Splendid atmosphere,” the Doctor replied, standing up and managing to look very imposing despite the soot on his shirt and wet hair. “Anything I can do since I’m here?”
“You might want to look to the Tardis,” Jo said. “It was on fire!”
The Doctor looked slightly worried which always slightly worried Rory.
“Come on, Jo, Rory,” he said. “Let’s figure it out.”
They followed him up the stairs and back into the rain. Rory would have given Jo his cloak, but it was already soaking. The captain was battling with the wheel and that was probably the only reason he hadn’t come tearing down after them into the hold.
“She’ll be fine,” the Doctor said after opening the doors and looking inside. “She just needs a bit of rest.”
“She might not get it if this storm keeps up,” Jo said, looking up into the sky. “I feel like we’re going to turn over.”
“We just might,” the Doctor said. “If only the Tardis was functioning properly I could try and stabilize us.”
“The Tardis isn’t you, Doctor,” Rory said. “I’ve seen you save the world with a ball of string.”
And, really, sometime in the Doctor’s nine hundred plus years that had to be true.
“Thank you,” the Doctor said, inclining his head. “Well, let’s see what we can do.”
“That’s the spirit,” Jo said, sounding a bit perkier than before.
Rory took them to the captain.
“Any idea on when the storm will dissipate?” he asked.
“It better soon or we’ll lose the main mast,” the captain grunted out.
“List our resources please, Rory,” the Doctor said.
“Sonic screwdriver, a sword, your brain, wet sailors, uh, Marco Polo’s on board…”
“Is he?” the Doctor said, sounding delighted. “Lead me to him, please.”
Rory led them all back downstairs and they found Marco Polo keeping the rest of the passengers from going crazy.
"Good to see you, old chap," the Doctor said, shaking his hand.
“Doctor!” Marco said. "You've changed."
"Yes, again."
“Of course you know each other,” Rory said.
“Naturally,” Jo said, imitating his tone.
They looked at each other and smiled.
“Did you by any chance bring your maps with you?” the Doctor said after shooting his companion/future companion a look.
“Yes.”
And it all got very confusing after that.
The Doctor was pouring over maps and then darting into the Tardis and bringing out weird gadgets and using the sonic to weld them with some scrap metal and wooden figurines some of the sailors had been carving, along with scraps of cloth from the passengers’ meager possessions. Sparks were flying and it was a good thing the ship was so wet really. The ship started to rock more and water seeped in even more. No one was dry at all. Marco Polo and the Doctor were arguing about some points on the map and the captain was yelling at everyone and Rory simply went back to the Pandorica and waited. He paid attention in case he was needed, but that was where his true need was.
In about an hour’s time the Doctor had built what he called a gravity centralizer and they’d erected it on the ship’s deck and the ship immediately stopped feeling like it was going to shake apart. The rain and wind didn’t stop, but the ship felt more stable. The captain set his men to work on bailing out water and setting everyone to rights if possible.
It took another day after that for the storm to die down, but the Doctor never left the deck in all that time, monitoring the device and checking on the Tardis.
“Thank you,” the captain said, when it was all over. “I think you’ve saved us. Somehow.”
“You’re quite welcome,” the Doctor replied. “I think we shall take our leave of you now. And Rory. The Tardis is quite cooled down now.”
“Will she be okay to fly?” Jo asked.
“As well as she ever did.”
“So not really then,” Jo said cheekily.
“Be nice to the Tardis, my dear,” the Doctor admonished. “She’s older than I am.”
Rory and Marco Polo saw them into the Tardis and the Doctor waved goodbye.
“Please don’t remember any of this,” Rory called out.
“Not a moment,” the Doctor assured him. “Until next time.”
They waved and Jo jumped out of the Tardis to hug him and Marco Polo and then ran back in and the Doctor placed his hand on her shoulder as they closed the doors.
“Have you traveled with him?” Marco asked, turning back to Rory.
It seemed a little bit ridiculous to keep up the act.
“Not yet.”
Okay, maybe he could keep it up a little.
“Let’s get back down to that box of yours,” Marco said, clapping him on the back.
Rory was only too glad to go back below deck as a whispered conversation with the captain had halted any questions and he didn’t appear again to anybody but Marco until they docked.