A/N: This is a detailed side story for my Doctor Who AU 'Verse. It's 'All About' Jamie and the Doctor. How they met, what adventures they had, and finally why they were parted. It's a prequel to Doctor Who and the Great Eclipse even though I'm writing it now, and mean it to be read in conjunction with Doctor Who and the Tangled Web. This is meant for those folks with no exposure to the second Doctor, and starts with the serial "The Highlanders" in which we first meet James Robert McCrimmon. Scenes that don't have either the Doctor or Jamie directly involved will not be included. Transcripts of the episodes are used as reference for dialogue, along with photonovels where the BBC has lost / destroyed them. Inspiration and Titles come from the T.a.t.u song "All About Us" that was used for the video featuring this ship. See TARDIS Parking for the links to both Transcripts and video.
This is a revised chapter! It covers the entire "The Highlanders" serial.
They say, They don't trust, You, me, we, us…
At the beginning of his second regeneration his insight into of the nature of Verity, her telepathic abilities, had just begun, and he didn't quite trust her. His new, younger body had some quirks that he'd not quite worked out yet, the second heart, the respiratory bypass deal, the increased mental powers that were quite a bit sharper than before, rampant hormones, all that was new to him. He supposed that the solution might have been to accept the overturns of the ship and let her take care of his needs the way she wanted to. But he found himself resistant to the ship's desire to bond with him. As thus, he had little control over her, less control over himself, and in many ways he preferred it that way. It made it harder for his people to find him, after all, if he didn't even know where he was headed or what he might do next.
The TARDIS had taken them to Culloden Moor, 1746. His two companions, Ben and Polly, had trusted him as a crusty old gent, but rather rubbed his new personality the wrong way at times. This ended up being one of those times. The fact that they landed in the British Isles was enough to make Ben go charging off, heedless to the danger. It should have been a warning, those sounds of battle, but they hadn't kept Ben, or Polly, for that matter, from running right into the thick of things. Now this was a new thing for him, a sense of self-preservation that overrode curiosity. When the English nearly landed a ten-pounder on their heads, he was set to leave. But he couldn't leave two immature twits from 1966 in the middle of a battle in 1746, now could he? So grudgingly, he followed them.
The jury was still out as to if that had been a good thing or not, actually.
They'd gone over a rise and Ben spotted a cannon and suggested that the ten-pounder had come from there. The Doctor, being keen of eye if a little rumbled and shaggy headed, and told him, "It's unlikely," before explaining that the weapon was spiked, that the touch hole was closed off by the insertion of a metal file rendering the cannon useless. But what had caught the Time Lord's attention was a traditional 'bluebonnet' tam o' shanter sitting atop the barrel. "I would like a hat like this," he had been rather a flighty gent in those days but for the most part it had been an act, as he heard the approaching Scots. In this case he put the bonnet on and posed for Ben and Polly with appropriate cheer, "How do I look?"
His female companion, blonde she might have been, was the smart one of the pair, snatching the hat off his head and inspecting it, "It's got words on it – 'With Charles our brave and merciful Prince Royal, we'll greatly fall or nobly save our country.'"
Now he knew that this could be a later recreation or the real deal. The only way to find out for sure was to provoke those 'sneaking' up on them. He grabbed the hat back from Polly, "Bah! Romantic piffle!" and proceeded to throw it to the ground. Seconds later there's a real, sharp, solid, claymore being held across his throat by a swordsman that knows exactly how to use it. No recreation was this. They were in the middle of a real war, with real life or death stakes. And one would think that at a time like this he'd be focused on important things, like survival.
Only his body is not being cooperative on that matter, because of one very striking young man. The lad catches his attention. It's not his red tartan kilt, leather jerkin, traditional Highlander garb of this era. It's not that he's holding a dirk on Ben. Really it's not even his thick reddish brown wavy hair peaking out from his tam o' shanter, pale blue-green eyes, and piper's hands. But there's something about the lad that takes his breath away and makes his mind refuse to focus on anything else. He's ordered to retrieve the tam o' shanter from where he tossed it by the voice near his ear as the sharp metal moves for him to comply.
"You'll pick it up!"
The piper adds, "Ah, careful, like." Oh, well, the boy wants him to pick the hat up. And really, yes… he wants to do that for him. Oh… this is not good. Nearly every internal impulse is at odds with his cultural training. He's been trying so hard to be – what? Proper Time Lord aloof? Staunch in the face of spending his youth, currently reclaimed with this new body, in a state of denial over its physical needs? Were he back home what would be done about it? Would he be found ill? Suffering from hormonal imbalance? Insane? What would the Highlander behind him do if he noticed the odd twin pulse? His attention is drawn to the heartsbeat pounding in his ears like he's been running. Only the blood flowing through him is not doing so for that reason. He can't understand his reaction to the boy. The lad is watching him closely, his eyes burning a hole in his soul. The little alien Doctor fixes his dark eyes on the piper and does not look away, even as he bends down and retrieves the bonnet from the ground. His body's stirring at the lad's merest glance completely mystifies and totally thrills him.
No sooner that he straightens then does the other man point toward the cottage with his heavy blade, making it look like he's holding a ruler for the weight of it, "This way with you. Quick!" The small one room dwelling sets at the base of the rise and soon they are being ushered through the door. "Kirsty! Get away with you," orders the young man with the claymore.
A voice from the bed says, "Who are they?"
"I know not. They're no Scot. They threw down the Prince's cockade."
The words confuse Polly and Ben, 'modern day' humans that they were from 1966, who thought that History was not nearly as important as the tunes on the radio. But the Doctor pegs the time and place down with those words, "Prince Charles Edward. Bonnie Prince Charlie." And he can't hide his joy at figuring this out.
"You have the tongue. Aye, I thought so. English the three of them. Camp followers to the Duke of Cumberland. Come to steal from the dead." Accuses the one with the heavy blade. Taking his cue, the piper lad stepped up to the Doctor, raising his blade to the Time Lord's throat, his face twisted in an ugly grimace. And for once the Doctor finds himself too caught up in the boy's heat from his closeness, the scent of leather, wool, musk, sweat, and old blood coming off the human to pay much attention to the blade at his throat. But for a touch, he's lost to the reality of the moment as his senses try to cope with this new internal reaction that he's never encountered before outside of his own kind. It's like the lad has a touch of mental power, untapped, that is electrifying not only his own mental reactions but his physical ones too. But that is impossible, isn't it?
From the bed comes, "Abide a moment! Do you wish to pray before you die?"
This shocks him out of his internal dissertation about how he can't be reacting this way, "Die!" His companions are flustered a bit, too. But this was why he wanted to leave again straight away.
"Die for what?" Asks Polly.
Ben's more outraged, "Well, you can't kill us in cold blood!"
The piper snarls, "Well, our bloods warm enough! Your English troopers gave no quarter to men, women and bairns." He does not notice how the dark haired rumpled man flinches at his words with a look on his face of horror.
"Doctor, tell them who we are," pleads the blonde woman traveling with him.
The Scotswoman, Kirsty, takes note, "Doctor?" She grabs her brother's arm only to be pushed away. There's a bit of an argument, with the dark headed lass insisting that they need a doctor and that if it comes to it they can kill the English captives after.
During the scuffle Ben notes a pistol on the bed, leaps forward snatches it up, and aims it at the two Scots. "Right, back both of you! Or your Laird won't need a doctor."
"Well done, Ben. And now gentlemen... Your swords, I think. Ben, cock the pistol!" The woman pleas with the men to do as he asks, and he orders, "Polly, take the swords." The highlanders really are reasonable people for the most part and these two do turn their weapons over to the girl, "That's the style. Now back against the wall, both of you. Go on! That's better." Much better. He can think with the boy away from him. His first concern is the wounded man on the bed, who to him looks oddly familiar, like he's seen him in history books. "Now, I'm going to have a look at the wound. Come along, come along." The man doesn't fight him, "Let me see. Yes. We're going to need some clean water to bathe the wound." Making that determination the Time Lord places his hand over the pulse point to slow the blood loss, After a moment he finds himself doing something that is equally baffling; he pushes enough of his life into the man to stabilize him so that the blood loss doesn't kill him. Why did he do such a risky, tampering, thing? His people will be able to tell he's been here now. He ponders this for a moment, "Ah." The man on the bed is important to the piper, the lad is loyal to him, and thus he's giving the man a chance to live to make the boy happy. He wants to stomp his feet and pitch a fit.
He looks up at the unmoving Kirsty, "I'll not leave him."
"We're not going to harm him. Polly!" he orders. She responds with a nod. "You go with her." He hands her a leather pail, "Off you go then."
She doesn't want to go, but agrees to anyhow. Turning to Kirsty she asks, "Will you show me where the stream is?" After getting the Laird's spyglass the two women head off to fetch water.
Now that he's had a chance to calm the Scottish lads down as bit, he decides that the pistol is no longer necessary, "You can put it away now, Ben."
"Put it away? But..." this confuses the sailor.
The Time Lord looks from him to the two Highlanders, catching the piper's eyes again. He can't but help to notice the features of the lad, and his own reactions to them. Once again, it's something he's not used to and has no idea what it might mean. "Will you both give us your word that you'll not molest us? We're only trying to save your Laird from bleeding to death."
The clansmen look at each other and the traces of blood on the Doctor's fingers where he's tried to staunch the blood flowing from the wound. "Aye," says the one.
"You have our word," adds the piper.
The Doctor nods to them, "Put it away, Ben."
"What, are you going to trust these blokes?"
He rounds on the sailor, angrier than he maybe ought to be, "A Highlanders word is his bond!" Then he notices where the pistol is pointing, and getting shot so soon after acquiring this body does not appeal, "At least don't point it at me!" This is where things start to really go badly, he remembers. Ben tossed the gun, which hit the table and fired as such pistols were wont to do when cocked and loaded. Both Highlanders turn on the sailor shouting his foolishness, and he of course has no idea why, having spent his youth letting his brain melt. Even he is moved to admonish the boy for not knowing his history.
Something draws the younger of the two in kilts to the window, "Redcoats! There's about six of them."
"They'll slaughter us!" says the other.
Watching the Redcoats and the mounted commanding officer who are looking toward the cottage having heard the gunshot, the piper says, "We'll be caught like rats in a trap. Can we not run for it?"
"And leave the Laird to their mercy? There is but one chance. It is but a very slim one. I will try and draw them away from this cottage."
"Wait! Wait!" The Time Lord tries to stop the older of the Highlanders but the man snags his claymore and slips out of the cottage. He cries his battle cry and charges the English, lasting but a moment in the face of their rifles.
Moments later the Redcoats burst into the cottage. "Surrender in the King's name!"
And there's no way to bluff around it either, although he does try. Adopting a thick German accent the Doctor steps in to bluff their way out of this, if possible, "I'm glad you've come, Sergeant. I was waiting for an escort."
"Who the devil..."
The Time Lord cuts him off, "Civil tongue, Sergeant! You are in charge of these men?"
At this the Lieutenant charges in, "No! I am."
"A gentleman, at last. Doctor von Wer, at your service," the Doctor says.
The sergeant makes him wonder how much gray matter the English of this day and age possess, "Doctor who?"
Muttering and ignored he answers, "That's what I said."
Then the higher ranking dandy makes him think that perhaps the situation is even worse, that the English no brains left at all, "One of those confounded froggies that came over with the Pretender."
There's no way to mistake his accent for French. And Ben's not a Scot, "We ain't French. Are we?"
"German, from Hanover. Where your good King George comes from. And I speak English a good deal better than he does." And that last bit should've stayed in his mouth, but blast it the piper lad is standing right next to him and he's having a hard time thinking again.
"Hear that, sir. Treason! Shall we hang them now?" asks the sergeant with more enthusiasm than necessary.
"Wait a moment. Who is that?" the Lieutenant points at the bed and the man on it.
The piper says, "Colin McLaren, the Laird, and I'm his piper." If, blast it all, that the boy isn't lying, he'd eat his tie. But the lad looks at him with an expression to keep quiet, and he does, because the boy wants him to. Not good.
"Ah, they're a poor lot, sir. We'll get no pickings here. Let's hang them and have done."
"Well a right shower you are! What have we done? Nothing! And what have you got against these two? They lost a battle, right? Well, doesn't that make them prisoners of war?" Ben protests.
The dandy gives them a 'down the nose' look, "Rebels are not treated as prisoners of war. Right, Sergeant, prepare to hang them."
The sergeant motions to the Doctor, "Sir! Take him out."
As he's grabbed he says, "Didn't I tell you I was..."
He's cut off, "And you," he indicates Ben.
"But we haven't done anything!"
He's ignored too, "And you."
The piper protests, "But he can't walk!"
"Drag him!" orders the Englishman.
Things look really rather grim. The English are preparing nooses. The wounded is looking more than a bit bloodless. Suddenly a rock hit the ground nearby. Ends up that the girls had a plan that would pay huge dividends in the end. The dandy ended taking two men off after them. They still looked to hang however. It was an unexpected occurrence of the arrival of a man named Grey that saved them. For prison and a 'sea voyage' that more than likely was intended as slave trade. Oh, yes… what a fine pickle to end up in.
Inverness was positively medieval. The lower cells sat well under the high tide mark, and as it is now the tide was starting to come in. They've just been placed in a cell, mossy green and rough walled. Ben's trying to get the two Scots to rest a bit, particularly the Laird who looks worse for wear from the march, "Look after him, mate. He'll be all right. Okay, mate, okay. Take it easy, take it easy. Sit down."
The Doctor pats the wooden bench in invitation and then sits on one side to show it won't collapse. "We don't know yet," Colin says as he takes a seat, his piper, Jamie stands on the other side of him, watching the strangers and trying not to become rosy-cheeked every time the scruffier one looked at him. The odd looking man had the most attractive gray-brown eyes that Jamie had ever set sight on, and an endearing quality that he found slowing chipping away at his resolve to not like the man.
"A right rat hole this is, isn't it?" the Englishman said.
Jamie glanced around at the slimy walls; the hints of seepage making them glisten. He takes a breath of the salty air, "Oh, King George has worse than this, never fear." He comes back to the odd fellow in the rumpled black coat and his strange collared shirt of pale blue and blinks when he realizes the man is staring at him. Intently.
The Doctor finds himself grateful for Ben's complete lack of paying attention to anything, "Yeah, well, I'm glad Polly's out of it. Why did we ever get mixed up in this, Doctor?"
He almost reminds the sailor that they ended up in this situation because of his foolishness twice over, first for him taking off to explore and second for setting off the gun by tossing it around. But – he holds his tongue and cocks his head at Jamie with a bit of a smirk; "I'm glad we did. I'm just beginning to enjoy myself." He then clears his throat, "Down with King George!"
The prison erupts in cheers, laugher, and assorted answering calls. The guard shouts, "Silence you Jacobite pigs. You don't want to feel this bayonet?"
Jamie can't tell if the man is having him on or serious, "Oh, enjoy yourselves. So you are for the Prince after all?"
The Time Lord looks at him, saddened. If the lad stays on here his life will be a very hard one, either way it goes, possibly a short one. He can see the eddies of time swirling around the boy, but has no idea what they are trying to tell him. Distracted he replies, "No, not really." Jamie's looking at him trying to understand how someone could be neutral in this conflict because to him it's unthinkable that they are on the side of King George. The Doctor smiles at him, childish glee showing through, "I just like hearing the echo, that's all. Let's have a look at his wound, shall we?" Colin is wearing a full plaid, and to see the wound in the sputtering torchlight the Doctor has to pull it aside.
Jamie is quite interested, "Would you not be 'letting him now?"
It's a struggle to not become distracted as the boy leans over his shoulder to watch him gently check the wound and clean it with the water in the cell. "With care that'll heal," he tells Colin. The Laird nods, thankful for the assurance. He's managed to get it to stop bleeding now, but a dressing would be a good thing. He plucks some moss off the wall and sniffs it. This will do. After gathering up a bunch he carefully begins packing the wound.
The piper watches every move, enthralled, "Och, here's you saying you're a doctor, you've not even bled him yet."
"What's he on about?" Ben asks.
"Bloodletting," the Doctor responds, moving over to snag the torch so he can heat a metal cup of water over it. He hands the torch to Ben.
"Yeah, but that's stupid."
Jamie finds himself carefully holding the cup over the top of the flame; "It's the only way of curing the sick."
"Killing him, more like. He's lost enough blood already."
To stave off the argument the Doctor produces a small telescope from a pocket and peers out at the night sky with it through the window, "Oh, Isis and Osiris, is it meet? Aquarius, Aries, Taurus..."
"Oh, aye," says the piper. Ben is lost and confused, but his question goes unanswered but for Jamie admonishing him to be quiet, "Whist, man."
"Gemini and Taurus," the Time Lord concludes, before turning Jamie, "When was the Laird born?"
"In the fifth month."
"That's what I thought. Now, blood letting must wait until Taurus is in the ascendant. So it is willed."
This makes Ben look at him cross-eyed, "You don't believe all that cods wallop, do you?"
The look on Jamie's face will break him yet, "Of course I do! So does he. He's never heard of germs."
And to prove the point Jamie gets a confused expression and asks, "What was that word?"
On impulse he reaches out and puts a hand on the lad's arm, and has to keep himself from going all weak in the knees. Oh – oh my. Jamie practically oozes psychic ability, completely untapped, totally raw. It washes over him like a wave of electricity, a lightening leader that he has to fight from discharging back at the boy. He squeezes slightly on the lad's biceps; "It's a secret word." He sounds slightly breathless. And really it's no wonder… he feels slightly warm in the cheeks and is grateful for the shadows he's in. He takes the warmed cup and winks at Ben.
"Yeah, germs, all around us," the sailor says. Jamie has no idea what germs are and looks about expecting to see something huge suddenly jumping out to attack them.
The Doctor has moved back to Colin and added some of the warm water to the packing, making the man hiss at the sting of the salt, "Used by German doctors."
"Oh, Ger-man. Germs," Jamie concludes.
"Yes. Have you got a handkerchief, Ben?" The man nods and passes a small pocket-handkerchief over. The Doctor looks at it, "Good."
Jamie spotted the cloth being passed, "Och, that wee lassie's 'kerchief? Here, Doctor, use mine." He reaches into his shirt and pulls a larger swath of linen that he presses into the Doctor's hand, as if he's seeking that contact again. The buzz of energy passes between them like a surge. He finds himself staring into those deep eyes and his heart thudding in his chest. The Scotsman takes a deep breath through his nose noticing the sweet scent, like summer honey, over the salty ocean damp.
The Doctor blinks, "Thank you. Just a fresh dressing." Jamie is sure he's blushing like a lass. He knows he's trembling as the odd little man turns away and dips the smaller of the two bits of cloth into the warm water. The doctor begins cleaning Colin, who has passed out, and searching for other wounds. "Hello, what's this?" he asks after a bit. Ben begins to help him get the plaid loosened and they work out a large, ornate, tasseled, embroidered silk standard.
"Prince Charlie's personal standard," Jamie hisses, moving to block the guard's view.
Ben looks confused; "Well what's he doing with it?"
"Protecting it! Now put it back will ye. If a sentry saw it--" Jamie half panics and reaches for it.
"No wait!" The Doctor stops him with a firm hand on his wrist. Will you trust me, lad? Jamie stares at him, trying to wrap his brain around what he's experiencing. Please? The piper nods slowly with a queer look on his face. The Time Lord then opens his coat, neatly folds the standard and wraps it around his body. After rebuttoning his coat again the floppy, wrinkled, thing looks much the same as before.
"What are you doing?" The piper says in low tones.
The Doctor looks at him, "What chance do you think he has of evading the gallows with it on him?"
Not thinking, the gesture of reassurance, a hand on the lad's shoulder, happens naturally, and the reconnection of the current flowing between them stops Jamie's words. He wonders where else that feeling might go and -- the little man is talking, "Besides, it's really rather nice and warm. Let's have a tune to cheer us all up." This is reasonable, Jamie thinks. He's a piper after all, even if he doesn't have a full set of bagpipes on him.
The Doctor has his recorder, Jamie his Practice Chanter, and even if Ben grouses about it they intend to play. "Yeah, I didn't think we'd heard the last of that," the sailor groans. The lively tune seems to lighten up the mood in the place, perking up prisoners across the floor. Jamie finds himself watching the Doctor, while the Doctor is watching him, and they are playing together this perfect tune. He almost smiles.
"Silence!" shouts the sentry.
Jamie stops and grips the Doctor pulling the recorder from his lips, "Whist, man!"
"Well, you're a loyal Jacobite, aren't you? This is your tune." Trust me, lad. Please? Jamie deflates a bit, sets his jaw in determination, and nods. The Doctor calls, "Come on everybody, join in." Jamie picks up the notes again, weaving a melody that soon has everyone chanting along with it.
"Silence, I say! I warned you rebels once! Now we'll see what a touch of the bayonet will do," the man threatens. It's impossible that anyone heard him over the singing however, and it's only when the keys rattle in the lock over the staircase leading down does the Doctor signal Jamie to stop. The piper takes both instruments and hides them away. The guard targets the Doctor with his gun, because the little man steps up in front of him, "Now then! You!"
"Ah, thank heavens. Did you hear that tune?" the Doctor said in his heavy German accent, ignoring the guard's reply, "They were singing it to drive me m... out of my mind. As I'm a loyal subject to King George the Second!" He can feel Jamie begin to get antsy and pissed off, Trust me boy, play along, I'll get you out of here.
"Now what's that got to do with me?" the guard asks.
"They know of a plot to murder your general, the Duke of Cumberland."
This causes a rumble of discontent across the prison, led by Jamie, "What! I knew he was not one of us!"
"Take me to solicitor Grey. Perhaps we're in time to prevent it!"
The guard says, "Why didn't you speak about this before?"
"Well, it's only just discovered! That rogue is party to it!" The Doctor points at Jamie. The Scotsman, in a fury, flings himself at the Doctor intending to get his hands around his throat only to be stopped by the bayonet.
Ben sees the Time Lord wink as the guard hauls him out of the cell and slams the door shut, One they are gone he says, "Well done, mate."
"What do you mean? Why don't you go and join your friend?" Jamie says, still pissed off and rather willing to believe the mental plea he heard was his imagination.
Ben rolls his eyes, "Oh, calm down. Can't you see it was all a fiddle?" At the piper's confusion he continues, "Well, a trick. A ruse, to get out of here."
Jamie shakes his head; "I don't understand you."
"Oh, blimey, look. Outside he's got a chance to get away and rescue us. What chance do you think he's got paddling around in here?"
"Aye, nevertheless, I'm still worried."
Ben glances up, "Now don't you worry about him, mate. Worry about us. See that line?" he points up at the dark line marking the cell all around the walls, "Well that's where the water level comes up to, and tonight is not my bath night."
The dark haired rumpled man managed to get free, after giving up the personal standard (which came in handy for tying up Grey), his clothes (traded for skirts, and he really hoped Ben never found out about that), and the three men left behind in the prison (they ended up on a boat in the harbor). In the process he gained a very nice, but unloaded pistol, a very suitable disguise, and found Kirsty and Polly.
He knows the ship that the men are on is being used for something 'out of history', he can sense that this is what he's meant to put back on track. Now to just figure out how. He's got people on board, Ben, Jamie and Colin. And Colin's daughter is here. Surely that will be useful. He was now in a barn with the two women trying to come up with a plan.
Oh but – there's a good one. How to manage it? He lies back in the hay, the events of however long it's been since he's slept last catching up with him. Oh bother, this stupid, young, body. He never needed this much sleep before. He can barely keep his eyes open some days. His still in the skirts, Polly is trying to keep him awake. "Doctor, don't go all sleepy on us, now. We've got to do something."
He agrees, but not right at this instant, "All right, go ahead."
"If only we knew where the others were," Polly says.
He's half asleep now; "They're on the ship."
"They're on the ship, the Annabelle. Master's name, Trask. Not a nice man, you wouldn't like him."
Polly has the nerve to call him back out of his sleep, "Doctor! Doctor!" When that doesn't work she digs him in the ribs to wake him, "Look, if they're on the ship, then we've got to get them off it. Or..." he mumbles something vague that she takes as a 'continue'. "Or capture the ship." He listens to the women talk about the merits of the idea, what they could do if they captured the ship, and speaks up only to convince Kirsty that leaving Scotland for a few years is the logical thing to do. After a few moments of argument she agrees and asks what they can do to capture the ship then. And once again Polly digs him in the ribs to wake him, "We must make a plan. Doctor. Doctor! Have you got a plan for us?"
"No." He closes his eyes. But he does want to see that Jamie lad again, doesn't he?
Polly snorts, "Oh, go on, I know you better than that, you must have a plan."
"Well, it's just a wee idea really." He stretches to wake himself a bit. She encourages him to talk. So he does, "I've only just thought about it. It won't work, but it'd be a try. Anyone got any money?" He finds that yes, indeed they do. Seventeen guineas in fact. "That's a fortune in these days. Now, we want weapons - lots of them, and a rowing boat," he tells them.
"Well, I can get a rowing boat," says Kirsty.
"Good, and we can buy the weapons," Polly questions that and he tells her where, "From the English soldiers. Well, they're bound to have heaps of weapons as souvenirs, and they'd sell their Grandmothers for tuppence half penny." Kirsty then asks what the next step would be; "We smuggle them aboard the Annabelle." And now he's really all out… He cannot stay awake a moment longer. He's not even sure of the question Polly asks him next or what his answer is. He just needs to sleep. And sleep would be so much nicer with Jamie next to him…
The next day they set to work on the plan. The two girls end up back at the barn before the Doctor does, bemoaning their luck. The Doctor shows up shortly, a handbarrow that ends up filled with weapons. Polly rewards him with a hug and says, "You're fantastic." This he knows, but it brings a smile to his face none the less. Then he spots Kirsty's ring. And the last of the plan clicks into place. He asks to see it only for the blonde to say, "Oh that. It's her father's. She won't let you touch it."
But he's already got Kristy's hand and is looking at the ring, "I'm not surprised. It's not her fathers."
"You lie! It is!"
"Then why has it the Stuarts' seal?" he asks her.
"My father bade me not tell where he got it."
He looks her in the eye, "Until the right time. That time has now arrived."
She looks thoughtful, then shrugs, "The Prince gave it to my father off his own hand in heat of battle. My father saved the Prince's life."
"Then it is right and proper that it should now save his life. Give it me." Unlike with Polly, Kirsty only hesitates before giving it to him, "Thank you. I wonder. Bait." She asks what for. He tells her, "Bait for a very greedy man."
The next task ended up being interrupted by rescuing Ben who managed to get off the Annabelle by slipping his ropes. The lad is really quite lucky that the Doctor is there to keep the jetty clear. He finishes loading up the rowboat and takes Ben back to the barn where he's fed and allowed to dry off. The Doctor switches back to his normal clothes, endures the teasing from the women. They go over the plan and make some last minute changes. The women will smuggle the weapons onto the ship, while he and Ben distract the others.
The plan, for once, went without a hitch. The Highlanders got weapons, the rightful captain got his ship back, and the Doctor rescued his companions while setting time back on it's rightful course. He hated using Jamie as the bait, but saying he had 'soft hands and face' and how striking his hair was came from the heart, and so did the excitement of it. Of course, he was able to go down into the hold and see the lad again, even though he risked being in the middle of the battle to do so.
After the battle they end up taking Grey with them ashore. The Doctor is sure that he'll never see Jamie again. The set back for the Quay and watch the ship signal through the fog. Polly says, "We never even said goodbye to Jamie."
Ben agrees, "No, he just disappeared. I wonder where he went to."
"Right here." Ben and Polly both exclaim happiness to see him. Jamie says casually, "Aye, himself." His eyes are on the Doctor, who he had been ever so happy to see.
"Well, why didn't you go with the others?" Ben asks.
Jamie feels his cheeks go rosy, "Well, let's say I fancied my chances here better. Besides, you'll need someone to guide you through the glens, won't you?"
The Doctor finally says, "Glad to have you with us, Jamie." And he knows the lad intends to leave with them, come hell or high water. And besides the boy has his recorder still. Although they lose Grey they end up with another escort, one more willing to assist, one that reaps a benefit from it in the end. The Doctor is more than willing to take the young piper with him, for a chance to learn how to 'play the pipes'.
And Jamie knows that he means more than just the bagpipes. Somehow he thinks he might just be willing to give the strange Doctor any lesson he might want.