Author's Note:
Hello, ladies and gentlemen. Sorry for slight delay posting this one, busy weekend. Thanks very much to the following lovely people who boosted my dwindling ego about a thousand percent by leaving me some feedback - gallifrey calls now, Theta'sWorstNightmare, SawManiac211, MountainLord-92, EmmaMarie, Ahsilaa, TheWickedHeart, MayFairy, TheGreatWhite, sailormajinmoon, Lost Moon, Imorgen, EDZEL2 (x 2), BLEACH IT WHITE, Guest (x 5) and Aietradaea (x 5).
To sailormajinmoon: Thanks so much for the review, very glad you enjoyed how Anzor got taken down by the Master. Koschei is already a little suspicious of 'Kat', as you will see in this chapter. I appreciate your ongoing support more than I can say :)
To Lost Moon: Thanks again, as always, you are terrific. As you have requested, here is more, LOL :)
To guest: I totally appreciate the effort you have taken to catch up, when you are obviously very busy. Makes me feel very warm and fuzzy inside - thank you :)
I've had a couple of people ask me how River ended up with Hart's vortex manipulator (as described in Chapter Eight). This story assumes that people have prior knowledge of the episodes "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang", so I'm sorry if I didn't make that bit clear. At the beginning of "The Pandorica Opens", River is shown purchasing a vortex manipulator from Dorian. Dorian's assistant hands it to him in a box and he tells River that it's "fresh off the wrist of a handsome Time Agent". Then he looks into the box and grimaces, saying "I said OFF the wrist!", at which point he hands the box back to his assistant, presumably to remove the device from the severed wrist of it's previous owner. In my story, I have implied that the wrist-strap belonged to Hart, and therefore at some time in the future, he will do something reckless (who, Hart? Surely not, I hear you say!) and get his wrist sliced off with his vortex manipulator on it, which is how it ends up with River. So it's just another instance of me slotting back in with canon :)
Okay, after that lengthy preamble, here we go... please enjoy!
- Chapter Ten -
"This is the beginning...the stars are going out like candles, Danny Jane!
Make a wish! Make a wish! Make a wish!"
- Hour of Arrival, Year Zero, Nine Inch Nails
Your name is Rory Williams. You are from Leadworth. You are Amy Pond's boyfriend...
The young centurion said the words over and over again in his mind - the last, precious words she had said to him - as if they were a magic spell that could somehow change everything that had just happened, as if he could somehow use them to bring her back. But the slender figure lying in his arms still didn't move, her eyes closed and her beloved face empty of everything that had once made her so uniquely Amy.
My name is Rory Williams. I'm a monster with a gun instead of a hand. And I have just murdered the woman I love more than life itself.
He wanted to scream his fury and his pain and his grief to the heavens, but he couldn't, because there were no heavens left. One by one, all the stars had winked out, leaving nothing behind but the eternal curtain of night.
So he sat on the cold ground with his back against a log and held her close to the place his heart used to be when he truly was Rory Williams from Leadworth. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. All that was left for him to do was to numbly wait for whatever came next. Because, whatever it was, without her, it just wouldn't matter.
"So, the Universe ended..." he said conversationally, as if she could still hear him. "You missed that. In 102 AD. I suppose this means that you and I never get born at all. Twice, in my case."
He paused, stroking a lock of red hair back from her pale face. "You would have laughed at that." His voice cracked and broke in anguish. "Please laugh." But deep inside, he knew he would never hear her laugh again, never hear her call him 'Stupid-face', never feel her lips against his. He trailed his eyes upwards in despair. Overhead, the sky seemed to yawn emptily. "The Doctor said the Universe was huge and ridiculous, and sometimes there were miracles. I could do with a ridiculous miracle right about now."
Suddenly, as though speaking his name had summoned him, there was a flash of light and the Doctor appeared right in front of him. Rory's jaw dropped in utter astonishment. The Time Lord was wearing red fez on his head and had a ragged mop in his hands.
"Rory! Listen, she's not dead!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "Well, she is dead, but it's not the end of the world. Well, it is the end of the world. Actually, it's the end of the Universe. Oh no! Hang on!"
With that, he tapped sharply a few times on a watch-like device strapped to his wrist and disappeared. Rory blinked, left wondering if the Time Lord had really been there, or if he was just seeing things.
"Doctor? Doctor!"
Another flash of light glared in the darkness and the Doctor was back, this time without the mop.
"You need to get me out of the Pandorica," he said, apparently picking up their conversation where he had left off, despite the fact that he had just vanished in the middle of it.
Rory stared at him in confusion, feeling that - yet again - he was a long way behind the eight ball, something he had become resigned to long ago when it came to dealing with the Doctor. "But you're not in the Pandorica."
"Yes, I am. Well, I'm not now, but I was back then. Well, back now from your point of view, which is back then from my point of view. Time travel, you can't keep it straight in your head." Reaching into his pocket, the Doctor withdrew his sonic screwdriver and handed it to Rory. "Here, you can use this to open it from the outside."
"No, I can't," Rory protested in alarm. "I've got no idea how to make it work."
"Don't worry about that," the Doctor replied. "There's a man waiting down there who will help you. He's a bit of an ass...well, when I say a bit of an ass, what I really mean is, a lot of an ass...but he does grow on you. Kind of like a foot fungus, really... Anyway, the point is, he's an ex-Time Agent, so he knows about temporal technology. You might need to make a bit of effort to convince him at first, but you'll work it out. Now go."
Before Rory could ask anything further, the Time Lord had vanished. The young centurion looked blankly at the sonic screwdriver in his hand. The Doctor was his friend. He supposed he owed it to him to do what he could, even if he was finding it difficult to care about anything except Amy's body cooling in his arms.
Then the Doctor popped up for the third time, reminding Rory uncomfortably of a particularly manic jack-in-the-box. "Oh, and when you're done, leave my screwdriver in her top pocket. Good luck!"
"What do you mean? Done what?" Rory demanded.
But by then he was merely talking to thin air, because – predictably enough - the Doctor had gone again.
Tejana stirred briefly, burying her head even more deeply in the soft pillow. A muffled groan came from her lips as consciousness slowly returned. Her entire body seemed to be nothing more than one big tangle of aches and pains from top to bottom. She felt like she had been trampled by a herd of rabid elephants. Even worse, her brain seemed to have temporarily shut down, because she couldn't even remember the cause of her injuries. Whatever it was, from the awful way she felt, it must have been bad.
Groggily, she realised there were arms wrapped tightly around her from behind. A wave of relief filled her and she felt herself immediately relaxing. If the Master was holding her, she knew she was safe now. He would never allow any harm to come to her. She had long ago given up wondering at the irony of it – that the one place in the Universe she felt safest of all was in the arms of a psychopathic megalomaniac murderer. Some things just defied explanation.
Biting her lip against the pain, she turned over to nestle even closer to him, seeking to soothe her hurts with the familiar heat of his body. He welcomed her to him, shifting his position to accommodate her, his knee slipping intimately between her thighs to bring them closer together. She could feel his hand stroking slowly through her hair, caressing the heavy locks back from her face, until she sighed in contentment. It was strange, though – their bodies seemed to fit together differently from what she was used to, as if he was somehow...taller. Her eyes flicked open. To her shock, the eyes that gazed back at her were not whiskey-brown, as she was expecting, but deep navy-blue.
In that instant, three pieces of information blazed into her memory, piercing her befogged brain like three bullets fired from a high-trajectory rifle. Firstly, she was on Gallifrey. Secondly, she was supposed to be impersonating a servant. And thirdly – here, the hyper-ventilating panic rose inside her, like an elevator rocketing towards the top floor - thirdly, she was most definitely, totally, absolutely not supposed to be in Koschei Oakdown's bed.
"Good morning, Kat," he said, his voice low and lazy, and yet somehow challenging, as though he could read the consternation in her face.
"L...Lord Koschei," she stammered, doing her best to hold on to her innocent servant's facade, while frantically racking her brain to work out how she had ended up in this most dangerous of places. "What...happened?"
"Anzor happened," he said grimly. "He cornered you in the Refectory. Don't you remember?"
As soon as he said it, she did remember. The crazed look in Anzor's eyes, her desperate struggle to escape, the savage bite of the galvaniser... she drew in a sharp, painful breath as it all came flooding back. "I remember..." she whispered shakily. She couldn't recall Koschei being there, but since she was still largely in one piece, she assumed he must have arrived in time to stop the other Time Lord before he could hurt her too badly. "Thank you...for saving me."
Koschei frowned. "I wish I could take the credit. But he was already running away when I first saw him. I'm not sure what happened before that." His hand stilled in her hair. "Did he...do anything to you?"
The dark, taut tone in his voice made it perfectly obvious what he was asking.
"No, my Lord," she replied. "He...hurt me...with his galvaniser. But that's all."
She felt his hand move to her shoulder, pushing aside the torn fragments of her dress to examine her wound. A quiver of sensual awareness pulsed through her as he gently brushed her naked skin. His fingers were long and slender, a direct contrast to the squarer, more compact hands of his older self. But in many ways, his touch felt exactly the same, deft and sure and confident, with that same undercurrent of barely-leashed power. And, much to her alarm, with exactly the same ability to make her forget everything in the Universe except the heat of his nearness.
"It looks a lot better this morning," he said. "You heal quickly, Kat."
She flushed. Naturally, her injuries were rapidly repairing themselves. She was a Time Lady and she was very early in her current regeneration cycle. Not only that, she was here on her home planet, in close proximity to the Eye of Harmony, the source of all the Time Lord's power. In less than twenty four hours, all traces of Anzor's attack would most likely be gone. But Koschei couldn't be allowed to realise that. Kat the Shabogan servant girl would never heal that quickly, if at all. If she had truly been the person she pretended to be, she should have been damaged for life. She had to get out of here, right now, before he started to think too much about the inconsistencies in her story.
"I have to go," she gasped, trying to sit up. "I shouldn't be here with you...like this..."
But he merely shifted his body weight a fraction, ensuring she was pinned against the bed and couldn't move. "That's not what you said last night," he said, a small grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Last night, you begged me to hold you."
Tejana felt her stomach drop. "I...did?"
"Oh yes, you did."
Oh gods, what had she done? In her confusion, she'd obviously thought she was with her own version of the Master. But what else had she let slip? Carefully, she probed her mental defences. Thankfully, they appeared to be intact. Subconsciously, she had continued to protect herself, shielding her mind from the psychic link, even throughout her ordeal and its aftermath.
"Did I...say anything else?" she quavered.
"Just something about a picture of me painted by Lady Ushas." His eyes narrowed, searching her face. "How did you know about that, Kat? Ushas hasn't even started painting it yet. Did Theta tell you?"
Tejana felt trickles of apprehension sliding down her spine. This conversation was turning into a treacherous minefield. It would be easy enough to say that Theta had mentioned the picture. But somehow, she sensed that wasn't what Koschei wanted to hear. There was a subtle undertone of jealousy in his voice that warned her that talking about Theta right now wasn't a good idea.
"I'm a servant, my Lord," she murmured, remembering Dyoni's words about the staff knowing everything that happened within the Academy and seizing on the explanation. "People speak freely in front of servants. I must have heard it mentioned somewhere."
"You're not exactly a typical servant though, are you, Kat? There's something very different about you." His hand was moving again, smoothing sensuously through her hair. His lips lowered to whisper in her ear. "I love your hair. It's beautiful."
At his words, the tension between them turned raw, as tight as a wire. I know you do, she thought, her double pulse beginning to thunder in her ears. You always will. Closing her eyes, she tried to fight back the pleasure, knowing she had to stop this. But stopping him wasn't something she had ever been very good at. Before she could do anything, his mouth was on hers. He was surprisingly gentle, taking care not to hurt her lower lip, still swollen from where Anzor had struck her. Nonetheless, despite his care, he made very sure he got precisely what he wanted. Her lips parted with a gasp and he surged between them, ruthlessly taking and claiming her mouth and demanding even more from her. He might be centuries younger than the man who would one day father her baby, but he knew exactly what he was doing. The kiss was urgent and passionate, the hot tangle of their tongues commanding her complete attention. Deep inside, she felt something yield; something primal, unfurling and reacting; something that couldn't think, but only wanted and needed and ached.
Exerting the little that was left of her willpower, she struggled to draw back from the brink, fighting the compulsion that burned in her blood. She couldn't allow this to happen, no matter how much she wanted it. Pushing at his shoulders, she managed to drag her mouth away from his.
"I can't!" she gasped. "Please, I can't!"
"Why?" he growled, his breathing harsh and ragged with desire. "We both know you want to."
Wildly, she cast around for something to say that would make him let her go, before she gave in and begged him to do whatever he wanted. "I'm already promised!"
She felt his body tense angrily against hers. "To who?"
"To a man back where I come from," she replied, truthfully enough.
"What? In Low Town?" he scoffed, contempt lacing through his voice, as if nobody in their right mind could consider that a binding commitment.
Her eyes flashed at the arrogance in his tone. "And what's wrong with that?" Did he really think that casual sex with him was preferable to an honourable marriage, just because he was a high-and-mighty Time Lord and she was nothing more than a lowly servant girl? Surely even the Heir of Oakdown couldn't be that conceited. But one look at the cold expression on his face quickly convinced her that he could.
"And is he a good man?" he inquired sarcastically.
"No," she replied, her temper rising. As much as she loved the Master, 'good' was not a term she would ever use to describe him, under any circumstances, not then and not now. She'd forgotten how childish he could be when he didn't get his own way – something else which clearly hadn't altered over the years. "He's not. He never has been and he never will be. But he is good to me."
"How good?" he snarled, crushing her to him in an iron grip. "This good?"
With that, he took her mouth again, not bothering to be gentle this time. He tasted of suppressed rage and jealousy, together with dark, frustrated desire. Holding on to her anger, Tejana refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting, concentrating on the pain instead, and using it to steel herself against the white-hot effect he had on her. Eventually he raised his head and looked down at her, his blue eyes hard and stormy at her lack of response.
She stared back at him, keeping her gaze calm and steady. "Please, I need to go now, Lord Koschei," she said, her tone as cool and correct and deferential as any other servant, doing her best to conceal the heated ache he had ignited inside her. "I thank you for your help, but they'll be looking for me soon."
It was a pointed reminder that neither of them could afford to be caught in such a compromising position – a reminder even he couldn't ignore. For a moment, he hesitated, fury darkening his eyes. But then he rolled away from her on to his back, putting his hands under his head. Deprived of his body heat, she felt suddenly cold and inexplicably miserable.
"Fine," he said, his handsome face unreadable, his dark hair tousled across his brow. She wanted to reach out and brush it back, but she didn't dare. "Go then. Now. Before I change my mind."
Shakily, she managed to climb out of the bed, every inch of her body protesting in pain from her injuries. She wasn't sure she could make it to the door, but she knew she had to. Staying here was far too dangerous. She was halfway across the room when she heard him snap out, "Wait!"
Tensing with apprehension, but unsurprised, she turned back to face him. She should have known he would never give up that easily, just as his older self never would.
"You can't go out there dressed like that," he said, sitting up and lithely getting to his feet. Looking down at herself, she realised what he was talking about. The jagged tears in the front of her servant's dress left her small, high breasts almost completely exposed. Feeling his eyes travelling over her, a tide of humiliated colour flooded her face.
He picked up a plain black tunic from the back of a chair and, with two quick strides, crossed over to her. "Here. Put this on."
Without protest, she allowed him to slip the tunic over her head. It was made of a soft velvety material and was much too large for her. As she pushed the sleeves up her arms, she noticed that the cuffs were beautifully stitched with tiny golden oak trees, the ancient sigil of the House of Oakdown.
Standing close behind her, Koschei watched her fingers trace over the delicate embroidery. "Do you know what the motto of my House is, Kat?" he asked huskily. Then, as she remained stubbornly silent, he continued, "No? It's 'To have and to hold.' Once an Oakdown takes something, he never lets it go. Maybe that's something you should keep in mind."
Oh, it's too late for that, amin Mehkil, she thought ruefully. Much, much too late.
Before he could do anything else to stop her, she activated the door control and escaped out into the corridor, wishing with both her hearts that she felt more relieved and much less bereft at leaving him behind.
After prowling around for a while longer, Captain John Hart decided he had exhausted the possibilities of the underground cavern. Neither Tejana or the Master were here and there was no indication that they ever had been. Of course, he had the vortex manipulator he had found in River's bag. He didn't have to wait around here, twiddling his thumbs, until the rest of Team TARDIS turned up in their own sweet time. But he'd be willing to bet an Arcadian diamond that Tejana had managed to get herself into some sort of trouble yet again and someone had to get her out of it, particularly if Blondie wasn't around to do it. Why that someone should be him was an issue he chose not to examine too closely, since it implied that he might actually care what happened to the feisty little pocket rocket, something he wasn't about to admit, even to himself. No, his curiosity was aroused, that was all it was...especially now he knew River Song was involved somewhere. Now there was one hell of a woman – fierce, sexy, fascinating, intriguing, mysterious - he'd never thought he would see her again, but now that the opportunity was here, he couldn't pass it up. That was the thing about travelling with Time Lords, he reflected with a grin, it was never boring. He was beginning to learn to expect the unexpected.
He drew the blaster pistol and headed towards the double doors, intending to explore further afield. But before he had got any further than the dusty passageway, he heard footsteps descending the stone stairs leading to what he guessed was the outside world. For a spine-tingling moment, he hoped it might be River, returning to claim her property. The idea of her literally walking into his arms, completely unprepared, was an extremely attractive one. However, his keen hearing discounted that tantalising scenario almost immediately. It was a man, wearing some sort of clanking armour. Whoever he was, he wasn't making any attempt at stealth at all.
Moving as silently as a shadow, Hart retreated back into the cavern and concealed himself behind the big, grey cube. A figure appeared in the doorway. It appeared to be a Roman centurion, dressed in a traditional bronze breast-plate, red cloak and a war skirt made of heavily-studded leather strips. He wasn't particularly large, but he was armed with a long, lethal-looking sword, which wasn't unexpected for a soldier of his time. What was unexpected, however, was the sophisticated-looking tool he held in his hand. Hart's eyes narrowed as he spotted the anomaly. It looked like he would have to make sure he didn't kill this soldier – there were definitely some interesting questions to which he needed answers. Assuming, of course, the translation circuits in the wrist-strap were working properly. Hart wasn't sure his Ancient Latin was quite up to asking a Roman what the hell he was doing walking around with a sonic device.
To his surprise, the young man stepped forward and called out, in very colloquial 21st-Century English, "Helloooooo. Anybody there? My name's Rory Williams. The Doctor sent me? He said there'd be someone here to help me."
Hart remained perfectly still, hardly even daring to breathe. Was the centurion talking to him? But how could the boy know he was here? He hadn't even known he was going to be here until a few minutes ago. And the Doctor sent him? What Doctor? Was he talking about Tejana's father?
The young man listened intently, but apparently heard nothing but the echoing silence of the cavern. His shoulders hunched in despair. Crossing the room with leaden steps, he slumped wearily to the ground in front of the enormous grey cube.
"Great," he muttered, putting his head in his hands. "Just perfect. There's no-one here. Thanks very much, Doctor. Now what am I supposed to do?"
Moving like a cat, Hart seized the opportunity to sneak up behind him. The young centurion stiffened in shock as he felt the blaster pistol nudge him under the ear.
"Now, I really like a man in uniform, so it would be a really big shame if I had to kill you," Hart warned in a velvet voice. "But believe me, kid, I will if I have to."
The centurion cautiously slanted a look up at his face. "Rory," he said flatly.
"Huh?"
"My name...it's Rory, not kid." There was no fear in the young man's eyes, just a faint contempt, as if nothing Hart did could possibly matter. "And you're the ass, right? Not too difficult to figure that one out, really."
Hart's eyebrows rose incredulously. "I'm the what?"
"The ass," Rory repeated. "Up on the surface, my friend the Doctor just told me I'd find a man down here who was a bit of a ass, but who would be able to help me. I'm guessing that would be you."
"Sorry to disappoint you, kid," Hart said dismissively. "But I'm not here to help anyone except myself. Let's make this quick and simple, all right? I'm looking for two friends of mine. One's a tiny little red-head – she's so small she looks a bit like a lawn ornament, only much prettier. The other is a bloke with white-blonde hair and a really bad attitude, dressed all in black. Have you seen either of them?"
"I haven't seen the bloke, but the girl was here earlier, to see the Doctor."
Hart tensed, pressing the gun more firmly against Rory's neck. "What happened to her?"
The young centurion shrugged. "I don't know. She disappeared. One minute she was here, then she was gone. The Doctor seemed to think she might have fallen through a crack in time."
"What?" Hart exploded, alarm spreading through his veins. A crack in time? He had no idea what that meant, but whatever it was, it didn't sound positive. Damn and blast it, what had that little hell-cat gone and got herself into now? "Where is this Doctor? Still up on the surface?"
Rory quirked his thumb towards the box. "He's in there, I think."
"In there? But you said you were just talking to him..."
"I was. It's a time travel thing. I think he travelled back from the future to tell me what I had to do to get him out. He was wearing one of those." Rory indicated the battered wrist-strap on Hart's arm. "And he gave me this. He said you'd know how to use it to open the Pandorica."
With that he offered the sonic device to Hart. Warily, the ex-Time Agent took it, moving several paces back from Rory so that he could study it while still keeping his blaster pistol cautiously trained on the other man, just in case he decided to do something stupidly heroic, like drawing his sword. The device appeared to be a sonic screwdriver, of all things. Hart couldn't help thinking of the laser screwdrivers carried by both the Master and Tejana. What was it with Time Lords and fancy screwdrivers? Still, the operating system on this one seemed fairly straightforward. He had no doubt he could use it if he had to.
"Oh, I could open the box easily enough," he said to Rory, flipping the screwdriver over and intently examining the other side. "I'm the best conman-slash-thief in all the galaxies. Opening locked things is my speciality. It's just a matter of using the sonic screwdriver to boost the energy levels of my wrist-strap, which I can then use to trip the temporal locks on the box. It might take a little while, but it can be done. The question is, what's in it for me? This Doctor means nothing to me. You haven't given me one good reason why I should help you."
The lines around Rory's mouth tightened. Deliberately, he raised his arm and pointed it at Hart. All at once, there was a blast of searing white light and the ex-Time Agent's blaster pistol flew from his hand and skittered uselessly across the stone floor. Hart stared at it in blank astonishment, before wheeling back around to face the young centurion. Rory's hand had flipped down to reveal a very sophisticated laser weapon, which was currently trained somewhere on Hart's mid-riff.
"The Doctor also told me I'd have to put in a bit of work to convince you to help. But you know what? I...am...having...a very bad day," Rory gritted out, in the dangerous tone of someone who had just been pushed much too far. "First, I find out that I'm not even human. I'm a plastic Roman with a gun hidden in my arm. Then I used that gun to kill the woman who was going to be my wife, just as she remembered who I was. After that, every star in the heavens went supernova and the Universe ended. Now my best friend, who incidentally might be able to fix it all, is locked inside that box and he needs to get out. So, unless you want to make me very, very angry – and believe me, you really, really don't - I suggest you stop sodding around right now and open the bloody Pandorica!"
"R-ight," Hart said, eyeing the threatening laser and raising his hands in a soothing fashion. It suddenly dawned on him that he had definitely underestimated Rory Williams. "OK, kid, you got me. As far as reasons go, that's a very good one. Why didn't you just say so in the first place?"
Rory didn't reply. He merely gestured towards the Pandorica with the gun. Swearing softly and fluently under his breath at being taken so flagrantly off-guard, Hart crouched down in front of the enormous cube and set to work unlocking it.