Deora and the Doctor sat in the TARDIS, listening to Deora's trance music loud upon the speakers. They'd just left Earth after the business that caused Deora to blow up a ship, much to the Doctor's dismay.

"You can't go around blowing ships up, Deora! It's not very…well, it's not very nice." "I know, Doctor, but I had to do it to protect the Earth. You know what it's like to have

to destroy to protect."

With fury in his eyes and an ache in his hearts, he rounded on her as if she'd just stabbed someone he loved.

"That was different! I was saving all of Space and Time from the Daleks, and you have no right to judge what I did!"

"Nonetheless—"

"Nonetheless nothing! Don't you ever bring that up again, is that clear?"

"Yes, your highness," she replied, smarting off. Luckily for the Doctor's temper, the

TARDIS was sent into a death spiral, spinning and throwing the two Gallifreyans about the console room like clothes in the dryer.

They tumbled and banged and were tossed about. The music faltered, skipping, hanging on the prase "take a holiday", restarting tracks, and eventually ending altogether. The tumult finally ended with the Time Lords whacking their heads on various pieces of "coral" and being knocked out.

When they awoke, they found the TARDIS lit not in its now-typical green, but in an ominous red. The Doctor had woken first, and instantly checked the coordinates.

"No…impossible…no, we can't be…"

Deora stumbled sleepily over to the console and looked at the readout.

"An alternate universe?" she wondered aloud. "Must be…"

"Oh, no." Her silver-blue eyes grew large in horror.

"What?"

"I've fallen into this universe before." Deora sat down and put her head in her cupped

hands.

"What's so terrible about it?"

"Gallifrey…survived the war. In fact, you're the reason the war never started. A complete genocide."

"What?" His voice was flat.

"It all stemmed from that business on Skaro when you were sent to make the Daleks less aggressive, or if that was impossible, to destroy them altogether."

"And I hesitated when I could have killed the Daleks instantly…I couldn't do it." "In this world," she said with a shaking voice, "You pushed the button."

The two Time Lords sat for a few minutes and contemplated that horrendous act.

The Doctor looked suddenly at Deora, ending his long stare.

"I have to see it."

"Doctor, no. You can't. You don't want to. I wish I never had."

"It's Gallifrey. It's home. I've got to—I need to." He stood at the console, pushing buttons, setting the course for Gallifrey.

The TARDIS was clearly not meant for this Vortex. The Cloister Bell rang out, signaling disaster. The Doctor's hand in the jar was bubbling wildly. The Time Rotor itself looked ill, and there was nothing Deora could do to stop the Doctor. She'd heard the legends. Do not interfere with the Doctor. Even in her own universe, it was a bad idea.

The TARDIS landed. The Doctor walked over to the door, but Deora shut and locked

them.

"Doctor, don't you see? This is not our world! This is not our Gallifrey! Anything that is here is a false vision; this is not the way things are meant to be!"

"I have to see for myself. Now open the door." "No."

"Deora, open this door now!" "No!"

"Deora, do as I say this instant!" "I said no!"

The Doctor grabbed her hand, yanking it off the console. She, in turn, fought back. It turned into a minor brawl; it was if the Doctor had gone mad just with the thought that Gallifrey was intact. In the end, she relented, his deep brown eyes smoldering with all the fury left over from fighting the Time War. He marched out of the TARDIS, tears in his furious and grief-stricken eyes. Deora followed him, full knowing the horror that awaited them.

The Doctor discovered that, indeed, most things seemed normal on Gallifrey. Some things were immediately different, however; a large statue of the Doctor in his fourth regeneration stood tall among the statues of Rassilon and Omega. The statue was not that of a good-natured (if quirky) fellow, but rather that of a stern warlord with the memory of having committed mass murder. The Doctor pressed on while Deora sadly followed.

Into the Panopticon they went, Deora shaking her head. The Doctor decided he wanted to see the Lord President in private, so he tried to open the door to his bedroom with his old presidential codes.

Klaxons rang out.

And suddenly they were surrounded by the Chancellery Guard, the two weary travelers surrounded by a sea of red and white.

Bound with ropes, the two were escorted to the chamber of the High Council. "I did try to warn you."

He gave her a look.

The guard shoved his staser closer to Deora's back. "No talking!"

"Guess he's not too fond of Evanescence," she muttered in reference to her t-shirt. They were brought into the room where the council (minus the Castellan and the Lord

President) were sitting. The Lord President was separated from the High Council.

The guards forced the two heroes on their knees. A salute of sorts was given to the incoming Castellan.

"Praise be to Rassilon!"

"Praise be to Rassilon," the Castellan repeated.

"No…" muttered the Doctor, looking up sharply, "It can't be her."

But it was. Long, flowing dark brown hair, a fondness for heels, and those eyes…it left only one conclusion, one very close to Deora's heart—

"Castellan Romanadvoratrelundar has entered the chambers! Be silenced!"

Castellan Romana stood, looking at the two prisoners, obviously not recognizing them. She scanned them up and down with her eyes. She then took her staser from her waistband and gestured for Deora and the Doctor to stand up, which they did.

"You are to be taken to a holding cell while I discuss your case with the Lord President. What are your names?"

"My name is Deora."

"I'm the Doc…er, the Docmon."

Deora disguised her laugh with a cough. "Sorry, dry throat."

Castellan Romana did, indeed, escort them to a prison chamber, a rather dark and dank one at that.

Wrists chained to the walls, the Doctor tried wiggling free, using conversation as a mask for the noise.

"What in the world did you use your name for? Did you think that just perhaps there's an alternate version of you? You might break her reputation!"

"I don't exist. I looked it up last time I was here. My sister was born—rather obviously as she just escorted us here—but I don't. I was never born."

"Seriously, though, a statue? I'm good, but I'm not that good. Okay, I'm nowhere near that good."

Deora figured out what he was doing. She shook her head as the Doctor managed to free his left hand.

"Nope. Don't."

The Doctor received a mild electric shock, which also signaled a member of the guard to enter the chamber and tie him up again.

"Can I say it again?"

"No, Deora, you absolutely may not!"

Silence.

"Wonder what the Master's like here." "Same. And the Rani."

"Hm. Pity."

Suddenly a bright light filled the chamber.

"You have been summoned by the Lord President. He wishes to speak with you personally, in his chamber." Castellan Romana raised an eyebrow.

The Doctor, true to form, poked about while they waited, touching all manner of lamps, feeling the drapes, and trying to look under the bookshelf. Deora knew better and simply sighed at him.

"The Lord President will see you now," the deep-voiced guard said. The two were escorted in, certain that this could only end badly.

And there on a bejeweled throne sat the Lord President of this Gallifrey; the Coronet of Rassilon crooked upon his head, a stern gaze staring out across Time and Space, a dark insanity in his eyes.

This was the Doctor, in his sixth regeneration, but with a madness unleashed and the Rod of Rassilon in his hand.

"What?" said the Doctor simply, staring in disbelief.

"I am Lord President of Gallifrey! Bow down before me!" "What?"

"Do you think yourself better than I? Bow down, I command it!"

"Oh, right, but this is just odd—alright, alright," he finished as he was prodded rudely in the back.

"Odd? What is so odd about it? I am Lord President; you are my subjects." Lord President Doctor stood up and began to circle the confused duo. "Don't think I don't know what you were doing breaking into my bed chambers. I know. I know all about the assassination plots."

"Blimey, was I really this paranoid?" wondered the Doctor a little too loudly. Deora looked at him, horrified at his outright arrogance.

"What nonsense are you babbling now?" Lord President Doctor turned on his heels and was glaring at the Doctor. "Are you implying that you are me? Or will be?"

"No, sir, not one bit, at least I hope not."

Deora looked as though she'd gotten the death sentence.

"You dare to speak to me in this way?" The Lord President slapped the Doctor across the face.

"Oi! What was that for!"

"Blasphemy! You plot for my death and then you blatantly insult me?" A look of absolute fury came across the Lord President's face. "You're not just a traitor, you're a fool!"

"Please, sir," said Deora desperately, "If I may speak?" "Very well."

"My brother is…mentally unstable. I assure you he has good intentions, but his hallucinations get the better of him sometimes."

"And you think this absurd behavior is attributed to his instability?"

"Sir, it is possible. I am no student of the mind, rather of literature, but my brother has always been troublesome for our family. Our parents were killed in a freak accident many years ago, and as such, I have been charged with his care."

"Then you should take better care of him." "I will indeed do so, sir."

"What do you take me for, an idiot?" "Sir?"

"I know what you were up to! You came here with your insane brother and the intent to kill me! If you got caught, you'd say it was his fault and get off scot-free! Well, it didn't work. I've already survived two attempts on my life, I refuse to tolerate another one! You'll both be executed at dawn!"

The two travelers jumped to their feet. "WHAT?" they shouted in unison.

"Unless you have a better idea! Like, for example, permanent imprisonment within the Matrix!"

"Eternal servitude?" suggested the Doctor, earning him a glare from Deora. "Hmm…that does sound rather appealing. For one of your caliber! I wear the Coronet

of Rassilon! I can influence your will and body to my choosing!" He stared hard at the Doctor, using the power of the Coronet to enter the Doctor's mind…

The two Doctors collapsed.

"Crud," muttered Deora, knowing that if anyone entered now, she'd get the blame.

Then the two Doctors woke up.

The Lord President was outraged. "What did you do to me?"

The Doctor looked confused. "I'd like to know the answer to that myself."

The Lord President Doctor, in all his spitting rage, drew himself within inches of the later

Doctor's face. "There's only one way that could have happened! You must be me! No! That would transgress the Second Law of Time!"

"With all respect, sir—"

"Stay out of this, girl! You're just a foolish child!"

"What, you think I've come back in time to assassinate myself, yourself, whatever pronoun?"

"Yes. It's the only solution I can think of." "Wrong place, wr—"

"I said shut up, girl!" Deora, in reply, gave him a glare that would make a Dalek beg for

mercy.

"Lord President," said the Doctor, "I propose that we are from a different, but largely parallel, universe and that the two of us merely ended up victims of circumstantial parano— good heavens, did my hair really look like that? No offense, your grace," he added carefully, noting the angry way the other Doctor set his jaw. "Though you should try a hat once in a while, it really helps. No, perhaps not with that bush—"

"Shut up, you—you—" Lord President Doctor spluttered for words, "Amoebic bit of impudent bum fluff!" he finished, turning scarlet as he did so. The Lord President spun on his heel and motioned for the guards to take the prisoners away. "Use the mind probe to see if they're lying!"

"'Amoebic bit of impudent bum fluff'?" the Doctor muttered as they waited for the mind probe to get warmed up. "Been called many things by many people, but that just about tops it."

"Oh, great, a new insult you've never heard," Deora replied acidly. "Just the epitome of joy. I'm sure you'll be glad to know that at least when you die, you'll have a new nickname in your repertoire."

"Hey, we're not going to die!"

"Worse. We're going to be turned from the last Time Lords in the universe into soggy vegetables on the whim of an insane Lord President. This is all your fault."

"My fault? How is it my fault?"

"You insisted we come here instead of going back to our universe!" "You're the one who told me that Gallifrey was still here!"

"You asked!"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Deora, I never meant this to happen!"

"No one ever does. Now do you have a plan that doesn't involve us turning into mental asparagus or am I going to have to come up with it?"

Just then the door opened. The guard led the two in, and had the Doctor sit in the chair.

"The monitor is visual only," the man said. "Docmon, pretend you are in pain, and I need Deora to pretend along."

"I don't understand," pointed out the Doctor.

"I'm part of a rebel faction here on Gallifrey. There are a few of us, scattered throughout the citadel. We even have an informant on the Council."

"You WHAAAAAAT?" said the Doctor, scrunching up his face in apparent pain.

"We'll soon know the truth about you," muttered the Lord President to his monitor. On the screen, the silent form of the Doctor writhing in pain while his "sister" was forced to look on was calming the Time Lord's hearts as he knew another assassination plot was being foiled.

"No, not kill, just usurp," the probist explained. "He's mad, I say, absolutely mad, like Omega."

Deora pretended to have a breakdown concerning her "brother's" plight. "We need an energy pod for a Type-40 TARDIS as well as help returning to our

universe!"

The Doctor realized that they could perhaps help with that, and that's why Deora had brought it up. "We can't help you in the fight, technically."

"Anything to foil the mad Lord President. Setting you free would be a big help to our cause. I'm turning the dial."

The Doctor squirmed, supposedly in excruciating pain. Deora, in turn, grabbed the man in a seemingly desperate attempt to stop the process.

"Well, in another universe, that was me four faces ago! Though not nearly as insane." "You're the Doctor? What was so different? What made you so…unlike our version?" "I didn't destroy the infant Daleks. And because of that, Gallifrey was destroyed in the

last great Time War."

"Better than living in fear of a ruthless tyrant." "Yes," said Deora.

"But the Time Lords live on in this universe!" said the Doctor.

"But they don't live!" retorted Deora. "Yes, physically, but mentally, they may as well be slaves!"

The Doctor pretended to fall unconscious.

"Tomorrow, at first Sunslight, I'll have the aid you need ready."

Deora was "forced" into the chair, and she said simply "You need to do a proper scan. You can say his mind was jumbled from insanity, but the Lord President knows I'm sane. Just don't leave me mush, please!"

Ten seconds later, Deora wished she had never made him do it as her privacy was invaded to the point she just wanted to scream.

When the Doctor had the bright light enter the cell, along with a genuinely unconscious Deora, he seemed confused at her condition. He watched her as best he could, checking for awareness every five minutes. When finally she did awaken, he asked for an explanation.

"I knew he had to have data or the Lord President would suspect him. So I offered."

The Doctor balked.

"Yes, I know how stupid it was. But I had to do something!"

They sat in thoughtful silence for a few moments before Deora spoke again, having recognized the look on the Doctor's face.

"No. You can't do anything here. First Law of Time. No mucking about in established events. You know what a temptation it is. Don't do it. Listen to me this time."

"I have to do something."

"No. You can't. I want to help as much as you do, but I can't. We can't. The most we can do is to learn from this. Time to sleep. We'll need our energy."

"Your brother?" the Doctor had only just realized Deora had called him that. "I had to make it sound vaguely logical. Go to sleep."

At first sunlight (before the second Gallifreyan sun rose in the south), the duo were awakened by Castellan Romana.

"You are to be taken to a different holding cell, one across the city." She pressed something into the Doctor's hand. He dropped it into his pocket. The Doctor gave her a startled look, as she ushered them out of the building. A few guards questioned her actions, but she retorted with "I'm the Castellan, and I believe this is for the Lord President's safety," along with a stare.

The two were shuttled back to their TARDIS. When they got there, Castellan Romana looked at the Doctor and asked simply "Is my life good in the other universe?"

"I don't know. You're in E-space. And you regenerated."

She smiled.

"And you have a sister," pointed out Deora. "Me."

Castellan Romana saluted them as they said their farewells and closed the doors.

They dematerialized, and as they did so, Deora started up her music again, but it was punctuated by weapons fire.

Romana had been killed. By the Lord President.

"NO!" screamed the Doctor, while Deora fell to the ground sobbing for the loss of her

sister.

In the distance, as the travelers returned to their own universe surrounded by gloom, the TARDIS music system played on…

I could not foresee this thing happening to you…

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