"Numerous times," the Doctor snapped. "Pray tell under what context."
"How many times have you visited Atlantis?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" was the Doctor's irritated counter-question.
"Search your memories, Doctor," the White Guardian urged. "How many times have you visited Atlantis?"
"Twice," the Doctor said after a moment's hesitation. He presumed this line of questioning was leading somewhere, although he couldn't quite figure it out. Not yet.
"And how many times have you witnessed its destruction?"
"Twice," the Doctor automatically replied, then stopped as he realized what he'd just said. "I saw Atlantis destroyed twice," he said slowly.
"And you?" The White Guardian turned to the Master. "Did you not also witness the destruction of Atlantis?"
"Only the one time." The Master glowered at the Doctor.
"You caused its destruction," came the expected correction, followed immediately by a deepening frown. "No, wait, Zaroff destroyed it, I distinctly remember…"
"It was Kronos, not I who destroyed Atlantis," the Master said at the same time. He, too, seemed struck by what he'd just said. "But Azal told me he'd been responsible for its destruction, he or his people…" His voice trailed off in confusion.
"I take it you are experiencing multiple sets of memories dealing with multiple explanations for the destruction of the same place?" The White Guardian asked, while watching both men intently.
The Doctor glanced at the Master. "Well, I can't vouch personally for Azal's version of the story."
"Nor can I," the Master agreed calmly. "I can merely confirm that we were involved in a conversation in which he implied his responsibility. Strongly implied."
"A conversation that no doubt contributed to nearly causing the destruction of Earth," the Doctor snorted in disgust.
"A point which is currently irrelevant," the Master put in smoothly. "The question at hand is not past actions but past memories. Are you certain you are not simply remembering separate destructions of similar sounding places? Regenerative trauma causes all kinds of memory problems," the Master said innocently. Twisting the knife.
The Black Guardian glowered at them both. "Ridiculous!" he snapped. "Doctor, you recall the destruction of Atlantis with perfect clarity. Both times it happened. Just as you recall the multiple times the Dalek race has been destroyed. By you." He stabbed an accusing finger in the Time Lord's direction.
"That is more information than they need to deal with the current situation!" The White Guardian was literally incandescent with fury, and the TARDIS lights flickered madly for a moment before settling back into their previous dim levels.
"You were always too cautious, too afraid of risks," the Black Guardian sneered, unimpressed by his counterpart's celestial tantrum. "I've always said they'd be far more effective in their roles if they knew the full extent of the parts they play!"
"Champions," the Doctor said in a loud voice. "What have conflicting memories of the same apparent event to do with Champions? Exactly?"
The White Guardian sighed. "Very well, since it appears I have no choice," he glared at the Black Guardian, who studiously ignored him, "I will explain. This is something neither of you were meant to know. Part of your value has always been the very unwitting nature of your cooperation. First, I want you to understand that you were never forced to do anything against your nature, nor were any of your actions directly influenced by myself or anyone else. You were sent where you needed to be, but the actions you took upon arrival were completely your own."
The Doctor nodded his understanding, and his acceptance. He sensed that, unlike past dealings with the White Guardian, this time nothing was being held back, no information was being kept from him. What he had begun to suspect was now being confirmed.
The Master, however, seemed less than pleased by the revelation. "Poppycock!" he snarled. "I am no one's pawn, and never have been--"
The Black Guardian's sinister laugh cut him short. "Only the pawn of destiny, 'Master,' only the pawn of chaos. Ends which you willingly serve; did you truly think you craved mere power?" He said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "What you crave is destruction, just as what the Doctor craves is order. That is why you were ideal candidates to become Champions."
"Champions with joined destinies." The White Guardian picked up the narrative thread. "Why do you think he constantly escapes certain death?" He nodded at the Master. "No matter how often you think you've taken care of him for good, he reappears. And the same for you; every time he sets a trap or tries to kill you, you escape. Sometimes in complete defiance of logic."
"So either we both live or we both die, is that it?" The Master still sounded upset, but intrigued at the same time. "Is that what you meant by joined destinies?"
The White Guardian nodded. "That is the way it has always been. There were many Champions before you, and there will be many after you. One of the reasons you were chosen is the unique nature of a Time Lord's non-linear existence. It is not always the optimal choice, but we are not the ones making the selection, merely the ones monitoring the temporal status of the universe. Making sure you end up where you need to be."
"So who makes the selection?" the Master asked, eyes narrowed, obviously running through choices in his mind.
"No one you've ever encountered, or ever will," the White Guardian said coldly. "Either of you." There was a tone of finality in his voice that gave even the Master pause. "If I may continue?"
The Master gathered himself enough to offer a "please do" gesture with his arms, but the Doctor knew him well enough to recognize when he was running purely on bluff. He would have found it amusing if he weren't doing the exact same thing.
"There is a balance in the universe--indeed, in all the universes--that must be maintained," the White Guardian went on. "The force we call 'Evil' exists to upset the balance, to keep things from falling into entropic complacency; the force we call 'Good' exists to combat Evil, to keep it from destroying the universal balance. That," he added, "is why Logopolis was allowed to be created. Not to keep the universe in existence past its original lifespan, but to correct an error that caused the end of the universe to arrive far ahead of its natural course. And that is why you have conflicting memories regarding the destruction of Atlantis. Both events occurred, both timelines existed, but as far as the rest of the universe is concerned, only one event happened in the 'true' timeline."
"And in both cases we were guided to those points of divergence by you, did whatever was necessary to correct things, and you let us go off on our merry ways, is that it?" The Doctor sounded disgusted. "If you really did leave us to our own devices once we arrived at these crisis points, how do you know that we wouldn't just make things worse?"
"Because you are the Champions," the White Guardian replied, unfazed by the Doctor's growing anger, the Master's obvious dissatisfaction. "When you left the crisis point, the universe rebounded back to its original shape. A shape that even Time Lords cannot see, not in its entirety," he added, correctly anticipating their next question.
"So there it is," the Black Guardian said. "Now that you are aware of the situation, you must also be aware that it is your destiny to correct it."
"I was perfectly happy with the way things were going," the Doctor muttered peevishly. "And if the problem is mine to correct, then why was he brought here?" He jerked his head toward the Master.
"Sometimes the balance requires a favorable outcome, sometimes a...less favorable one," was the White Guardian's ominous response. "If you were to be made aware of your status in the grand scheme of things, no matter how indirectly, then so must your counterpart. The Champion of Chaos, the Champion of Order. All must remain in balance."
"Someone else must know about our status as so-called 'Champions,' if neither of you interfered," the Doctor muttered. "But who?" He folded his arms tightly across his chest. "Could it be whatever entity selected us in the first place?"
"Interference by such an 'entity,' as you call it, is impossible." That was the Black Guardian, sounding even more impatient. "Its quantum reality is predicated on the need for Champions to be selected; until such times, it exists only as a state of potentiality, outside of temporal and universal boundaries."
"Look at your own TARDIS projections, if you require further proof that we are telling the truth," the White Guardian said, steering the discussion firmly back on track. "You dematerialized in order to make a comparison, did you not? Do so; we will not interfere. Draw your own conclusions. You too," he added, looking at the Master. "We will return you to your TARDIS so you can perform your own research. You will see." With that, he vanished, the Black Guardian disappearing at almost the same moment.
The Doctor turned to look at the Master, sighing as he, too vanished. "And then there was one," he muttered to himself. He moved reluctantly to the TARDIS console, setting up the parameters for the comparison he hoped against hope would prove the Guardians wrong, at least as far as the effect his time on Earth was having on the larger multiverse.
"Here's where you were," he muttered, pressing a series of buttons. The white lights of his original projection sprang into existence; a few keystrokes later and the red of the extrapolated universal temporal shifts joined the first set of lights. "And now for the actual reality out there." He hesitated, then pushed the button to bring a third grouping into view. A set of blue lights joined the first two, and the Doctor's shoulders sagged as he saw the projected temporal drift. "A .002 percent deviation from expected norm," he muttered. "Dammit, they're right; something's off."
The crucial piece of information he was missing appeared to be who had set this chain of events into motion, and why. Not the Guardians, although he dearly wanted to blame them. Not the Master, although he was the obvious choice. Not for any particular reason, just that he was always the obvious choice. But if not them, then who?
"So who did it?" he asked aloud.
"I did."