Author's Note:
Good evening! Thanks very much to all the lovely people who took the time and trouble to review since the last chapter was posted. As always, your feedback helps to make me the best writer that I can be, and I will always appreciate that more than I can say. It's very nice to know people care about this story.
So piles of gratitude to: MayFairy, EmmaMarie, GuesssWho, gallifrey calls now, MountainLord-92, Theta'sWorstNightmare, silentnight, Ahsilaa, sailormajinmoon, Geraldine, TheWickedHeart, Celestial Valkyrie, EDZEL2, Toolazytologin, BeautifulSpace (x 3), SawManiac211, Imorgen, mericat (x 5), Lost Moon and lookofwater.
Special welcome to new reviewers, Toolazytologin and lookofwater – thanks very much for dropping by, lovely to have you!
To silentnight: Yes, you have picked up on it exactly – Tejana being on Gallifrey has been one of the causes of events that lead to her being sent back to Gallifrey. Very timey-wimey! Thanks so much for the review :)
To Geraldine: So glad you are still loving it – here's some more for you ;)
To Toolazytologin: Thanks so much for no longer being a silent reader! It's terrific to get your feedback and I'm very excited that you like it so much.
To Beautifulspace: Thanks for your reviews. I hope you do very well on your test. As for Christmas, I have a very busy one coming up, so I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update for a while. But I tend to be a very private person and don't like to post a lot about my doings publicly on the internet, so I hope you'll forgive me if I don't go into too much detail about my plans :)
To Lost Moon: Well, there's a bit of Pandorica and a bit of Gallifrey in this chapter, so hopefully you will like! Thanks as always for the support! XXX
No real warnings for this one – although now that it's 'M' rated, I probably don't have to do that any more anyway! Yayyyy!
- CHAPTER NINETEEN -
"Where do you come from?
Tell me who you are!
Do you come from another world
Or from some distant star?
Where do you come from?
Are you what you seem?
Are you real,
Are you standing there,
Or is it just a dream?"
- Elvis Presley, Where Do You Come From?
It seemed to take forever before everybody left and the museum closed for the night. Nevertheless, seven-year-old Amelia Pond waited patiently, concealed behind a display of Antarctic penguins. Every now and then a message would come over the PA system, urging her to report to the reception desk, where her aunt was waiting for her. Steadfastly, she ignored the tinny voice, just as she had earlier ignored Aunt Sharon herself, when her guardian had been running up and down past the exhibits shouting her name, in a voice that had escalated first from annoyed to worried, before finishing up somewhere in the region of outright panic.
Amelia did feel a little bit guilty for upsetting her aunt, but she didn't really think she had a choice. The first note, the one that had been put under their door at home, had instructed her to come here to the museum. And then once she got here, the second one, which had been stuck to that big grey box in the other room, had asked her to stick around. It was all very mysterious. Something exciting was obviously about to happen and she badly wanted to see what it was.
At last, all the visitors disappeared and the museum settled into silence. All the main lights clicked off, one by one, leaving the exhibits shrouded in an eerie gloom. With a loud rustle, Amelia slipped out from behind the simulated clump of dried grass where she had been hiding, accidentally knocking over one of the stuffed penguins as she went.
"Sorry," she whispered. Her voice seemed to echo back to her, making her jump. A small shiver ran up her spine. Everything seemed a lot more spooky now everyone else was gone. Suddenly her big adventure didn't seem like quite such a good idea after all. But there was no going back now, so she bravely stepped out into the middle of the hall and walked towards the room at the end, where the big box-thing was. The automatic sound effects built into the displays activated as she moved past, filling the air with mournful bird calls and spine-chilling howls. A huge, white polar bear, rearing up on his hind legs, seemed to glare fiercely down at her, savage jaws bared, as if it was preparing to attack. Swallowing hard, Amelia walked a little faster, trying to remind herself that this was a museum - none of the animals in here were alive any more.
Then she came to the strange robot things that looked like they had been carved out of grey ash. She didn't even know what they were, but for some reason, these peculiar objects made her more nervous than all the other creatures put together. Somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were watching her, their long eye-stalks tilted in malice.
She was very glad to get safely past them and through the double doors into the room beyond. Pausing, she stared at the big grey cube with its ornate carving. The Pandorica – that's what the pamphlet which had been slipped through her door had said it was called. It reminded her of that old Greek legend about Pandora's Box. She had a book about it at home. The story was one of her absolute favourites, which was part of the reason why she had been so eager to come to the museum to check the Pandorica out.
In the legend, Pandora's Box had contained everything evil...until Pandora, in her curiosity, had foolishly opened the box and released it all upon the world. Amelia couldn't help wondering what was contained in this box. A delicious thrill raced through her veins as her imagination went into over-drive. It couldn't be anything evil, surely. All her psychiatrists had told her there was no such thing as evil. Then again, they had also told her there were no such things as stars, and she just knew with all her heart that wasn't right.
She edged slowly closer, her eyes fixed on the yellow post-it note still stuck on the side of the box, with "Stick around, Pond!" written on it in big red letters. She ducked under the rope barrier that fenced the Pandorica off from the rest of the room and pulled the note off, inspecting it minutely. There were no further instructions written there. What exactly was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to be waiting for? She looked up and down, but there were no other notes stuck anywhere that she could see. Not knowing what else to do, she reached out her hand and placed her palm flat against the wall of the Pandorica. It felt cold and rough, like stone. But, beneath her hand, it began to vibrate. All at once, the huge, circular engravings lit up with a phosphorescent green light and a series of loud, clanking, metallic noises came from the inside of the grey box. Alarmed at what she'd done, Amelia snatched her hand away and stepped back, retreating behind the rope as fast as she could.
As she watched, mesmerised, the wall that she'd touched slid back, releasing a blinding blaze of white light into the dark room. Amelia blinked painfully, raising her arm to shield her face from the brilliant glow, trying to see past it into the depths of the mysterious box. There was a dark figure seated inside there, in some sort of chair. As her vision gradually became accustomed to the brightness, the little girl saw that it was a young woman with long, ginger hair, very similar in colour to Amelia's own, dressed in tight black pants and a black jacket, with a red, woollen scarf wrapped around her neck and red, fingerless gloves on her hands.
"OK, kid," she said, grimly raising her head and fixing her gaze on Amelia. "This is where it gets complicated."
Before Amelia could answer, the woman pushed down on the arms of the chair and tried to stand. However, it appeared she was much too weak. She wobbled around like a new-born foal and then her legs seemed to go out from under her. With a small cry, she stumbled forward out of the Pandorica, ending up on all fours on the floor in front of the little girl, her chest heaving as she sucked in frantic gasps of air.
"Are you all right?" Amelia asked, utterly confused by this turn of events. Whatever she had expected when she stayed back in the museum after hours, it wasn't this. The woman didn't seem to be scary in any way. Just really, really weird. "Who are you?"
The stranger sat heavily on the floor, still trying to control her laboured breathing. "I'm...fine," she replied, without really answering the question. "I'm supposed to...rest. Got to rest...the Doctor says."
Amelia stared. "What doctor?"
"He's in here," the woman responded, tapping her head with a slender forefinger. "Left a message in my head like I'm an answer phone." A startled frown creased her brow. "Wait a minute, that's really strange. He's not the only one. I can hear another voice talking too, over the top of the Doctor...drowning him out..." Her hand flew to her forehead, her face crumpling in agonising pain. "No, don't! Please, don't...I can't...I can't..."
Her voice cut off and her eyes went eerily blank. Amelia took a wary step backwards, all the tiny hairs standing up on the back of her neck in apprehension. Suddenly, the woman looked just like a porcelain doll she had been given for Christmas once. Her face was completely smooth and empty, wiped clean of expression or personality. It was as if she couldn't even see Amelia any more. Instead, she looked like she was listening to something Amelia couldn't hear - something talking inside her own head.
Something that wasn't good.
"Excuse me...are you sure you're OK?" Amelia ventured timidly.
The red-headed woman didn't reply. Slowly and mechanically, she rose to her feet and turned back towards the Pandorica, moving with jerky steps, like a sleep-walker. Amelia wondered if she should grab her arm and shake it to get her attention. But Aunt Sharon had told her once that waking a sleep-walker was the wrong thing to do, and could be very harmful, so she didn't like to try. Besides, she didn't want to get any closer to the Pandorica than she already was. All her instincts were telling her that the box was bad and that she should stay away.
The woman reached into the top pocket of her jacket and drew out a tubular rod with a green light in the end. Extending her arm in a stiff, robotic movement, she pointed it at the Pandorica and pressed a button. The green light glowed and there was a high-pitched, buzzing sound. Immediately, a second wall of the big grey cube began to slide back.
Amelia looked into the light again, belatedly realising that there was someone else still inside the box. It was a man, dressed all in black, with messy, white-blonde hair. Unlike the woman, he was trapped in his chair, unable to move, with heavy iron cuffs around his wrists and his ankles and a big thing holding his head and shoulders in place. Even though he looked ordinary enough, something about him made the little girl tremble inside. He was smiling at the woman, but Amelia didn't think it was a very nice smile.
Knowing instinctively that something was very wrong, she took her courage in both hands and blurted out, "Who are you? Why are you all locked up like that?"
Even as she spoke, the red-headed woman touched the buzzing rod to the man's wrists, each in turn, and his restraints fell away like magic. Then she knelt down before him, like a subject before her king, and proceeded to do the same to his ankle cuffs. The man raised his hands in front of his face and flexed his wrists, before his hard, brown eyes zeroed in on Amelia's face. His smile widened into an evil leer and her heart skipped a beat in fright, suddenly realising that she, like Pandora, had just made a very big mistake.
"I am your Lord and Master, Amelia Pond," he rasped. "And the reason I'm locked up is because I am a very...bad...man."
The Master hovered above Tejana's bed, looking down on her and watching her sleep. He remembered doing the same thing with her previous incarnation during their journey inside the Matrix, her dark curls tumbling around her shoulders in tempting disarray as she leant against him, her fine-boned face flushed and vulnerable. Since then, it had always given him a possessive stab of pleasure to know that her sleep was peaceful because of him, the simple fact of his nearness cancelling out the nightmares of centuries. Apart from when he had been playing a role, such as Professor Yana, or Harold Saxon, it had been a very long time since his presence had provided any kind of beneficial effect on the people around him. And while that wasn't something that generally concerned him, in Tejana's case the novelty of it intrigued him so much that he didn't think he would ever tire of it.
As far as her current incarnation went, watching her sleep was even more pleasurable, because it gave him the added relief of knowing exactly where she was and what she was doing. It was the only time he could be reasonably certain that she was staying out of trouble. When it came to Tejana, his primary aims were two-fold: keeping her with him and keeping her safe. It sounded simple and straightforward enough, but since her latest regeneration, both objectives had proved to be extremely challenging. Despite his efforts, the tempestuous, fiery little red-head consistently managed to attract danger like a magnet. It was slowly beginning to dawn on him that keeping her out of harm's way was going to be a full time job.
But not for long, he assured himself grimly. Once his plan came to fruition and he became the Kitriarch of the House of Oakdown, as her husband he would see to it that she stayed safely within the confines of the Oakdown Estates, caring for their son. Surely even Tejana would find it difficult to get into trouble there.
He knew she was far from convinced about going along with what he intended. That was no surprise – he knew her too well to have expected anything any different. She was not as altruistic as the Doctor, but she still had enough of her father in her to automatically reject his ideas of conquest and domination. However, she had always been fiercely protective of those she loved, almost to the exclusion of everything else. It was her major weakness. That was why he had expended so much of his precious energy in manipulating his morphic field to enable him to touch her just now, even though he had been invisible to her. The physical connection between them had always been so strong, so utterly compelling, ever since that first encounter in the Matrix. He knew that his touch would remind her how much she wanted him, and that she needed to fight for the survival of what they had between them. It was the only chance he had to persuade her to agree to his plan. Going by the doubt and confusion in her eyes as she had climbed into bed, he thought he was well on the way to succeeding.
For a moment, he was tempted to merge his mind with hers and enter her dreams, as he had the first night she had been back on Gallifrey. He had meant to communicate with her, to explain to her what had happened, so she wouldn't be afraid. But she had looked so beautiful lying there on the bed and he had gotten temporarily distracted by his own lust. Then that stupid servant girl had interfered and had woken Ana from her sleep, shattering their tenuous connection.
Unfortunately, as attractive as the idea was, right now he didn't think he had enough energy remaining even to attempt dream-sharing with her. Unlike Anzor, Tejana's mental defences were formidable. The Master had only been able to by-pass them that first time because he had walked through her dreams before and knew which paths to take. But trying to do it again, while he was in such a drained condition, wasn't a viable option.
He reached out to touch her copper-coloured hair, only to feel his fingers passing right through her, his hand as insubstantial as smoke. She murmured his name softly in her sleep, tossing her head back and forth fretfully.
Irritation at the situation welled inside him. This wasn't the first time he had been without a tangible body. In his determination to cling to life over the centuries, he had probably spent more time outside his Time Lord form than in it. He thought of the long years he had spent inhabiting the body of Consul Tremas from the planet Traken. It had taken him a good while to get used to the limitations of that body – one heart, somewhat advanced in years, no respiratory bypass system... But he had eventually become accustomed to it, adapting and improving where necessary, and the body had served him well, until he'd been tried and executed on Skaro as part of a Time Lord-Dalek treaty.
It would be a lot easier this time. After all, the body that he would be possessing would be his own, albeit his much younger self. A young, strong, familar Time Lord body, with a full complement of regenerations at his disposal. Once he was strong enough to achieve that, in just a few days, he could enjoy touching Ana whenever and however he pleased.
The only other thing he needed to do to put his plan into motion was to remove the obstacle of his father. And that part of it would be nothing but pleasure.
Confident that Tejana was deeply asleep and unlikely to get into any trouble, he left her room and drifted over to the guest wing of the Academy. Being incorporeal had many draw-backs, but it had some significant advantages too, such as being able to float through walls. It made getting around so much quicker. It didn't take him long to locate Lord Oakdown's room.
As he materialised invisibly inside, it soon became apparent that although his father was also in bed, he was far from asleep. The lights were turned down low and a series of passionate moans and muffled grunts filled the air. Lord Oakdown was lying on top of a very young, very blonde Time Lady the Master vaguely recognised as one of his long-ago classmates, thrusting powerfully inside her, his face a twisted mask of desire.
Looking down at the two lovers entwined in their illicit, carnal embrace, the Master felt the old fury - the old humiliation, the old disgust - boiling up inside him. As a boy, he had often wondered why his father had so rarely brought his mother to visit when he had come to the Academy. Looking back, it was easy enough to see why. This place must have seemed like one big whorehouse to the sodding old lecher - full of nubile young Time Ladies, only too pleased to jump into bed with the great Lord Oakdown, only too willing to do whatever he wished, no matter how vile. And while young Koschei had been striving so hard to live up to all the impossible ideals heaped on him by his unforgiving parent, the lying, hypocritical old son-of-a-bitch had been shaming him behind his back with his female classmates.
In his anger, there was nothing he wanted more than to kill his father right there and then, and the woman too, in the middle of their depravity, so that everyone on Gallifrey would know exactly how worthless Lord Oakdown had truly been. But somehow he managed to rein in his temper, knowing the success of his plan depended upon it. Gallifreyan society was extremely rigid and correct. If the Master wanted to take over as the Kitriarch of the House of Oakdown, he couldn't allow gossip to smear the family name. There would be more than enough talk when he took a Shabogan servant girl as his wife. He had no doubt that little indiscretion would eventually be put down to the impetuousness of youth and would be forgiven when his son was born. But he couldn't afford any further scandal if he wanted to end up becoming President. It had been a long while since he had navigated the shark-infested waters of Gallifreyan politics, but he hadn't forgotten the required protocol.
No, even if he had currently been strong enough, he couldn't kill Lord Oakdown in the same covert way he had attacked Anzor. He needed to be cleverer than that. It had to be seen as an accident. And it had to happen somewhere very, very public, so that there were never any questions about Koschei's sudden succession to the title of Kitriarch.
Otherstide, the Master thought in sudden satisfaction. It was only two days until the Otherstide Ball. And you couldn't get much more public than that.
The loud grunting from the bed escalated as Lord Oakdown neared his climax. If the Master had been corporeal, he would have spat on the floor in contempt. He couldn't help reflecting how much his father sounded like a rabid pig. He hoped to all the gods he didn't sound like that when he was coming. He would have to remember to ask Ana some time.
All at once, Lord Oakdown stopped dead and looked around, breathing heavily.
"My Lord?" a thin, female voice whined in protest from beneath him. "My Lord, is there something wrong?"
He stared around the room, his cold, arrogant eyes focusing directly on the place where his invisible son stood. "I just thought I sensed something..." he said. Then, raising his voice imperiously, he demanded, "Is there anyone there? Show yourself!"
There was nothing but a deep silence, punctuated only by the desperate panting of the woman.
"Please, my Lord...there's no-one there. Don't stop, I'm begging you, I'm so close..."
Lord Oakdown ignored her for a few more moments, his eyes continuing to intently search the shadows in the room. The Master stood still, transfixed by savage anticipation, waiting for his father to see him, daring him to understand exactly what was coming for him. But then the woman's writhing body reclaimed Lord Oakdown's attention and he returned to what he was doing, amid cries of ecstasy from his lover.
Enjoy it while you can, Father, the Master thought malevolently as he turned away and walked through the wall. Because at the Otherstide Ball...you DIE.
When Tejana finally woke, she was feeling a lot better. It always amazed her how much good a deep and dreamless sleep could do. It was better than any medicine, helping to restore her optimism, no matter how dire the situation. She wasn't giving up. There had to be some hope, some way to fix everything, she was sure of it. The old saying was true – things always did look better in the morning.
Fortunately, on this particular morning, it was still very early, so she was still in plenty of time to arrive down at the kitchen for her breakfast shift. Right now, Fionnula's wrath was one thing she could definitely do without.
She sat up in bed and stretched, before suddenly realising she was naked. She could see her white nightgown still crumpled on the floor, and all the details of both her encounters with the Master the previous night came rushing back into her head. Quickly, she scanned the small room, searching for some trace of his distinctive presence, but there was nothing. She wasn't entirely sure whether that was because he simply wasn't there, or if it was just that his morphic field was currently too weak for her to pick up.
After all, she thought wryly, having an intangible life-mate was all still pretty new to her. It was going to take some getting used to.
Her hand slid down to her stomach, just as it did every morning, welcoming her child to the new day. So, where's your Daddy then, little one? she asked silently. Is he here, or is he off wreaking havoc somewhere else?
Predictably enough, there was no reply from the tiny, developing baby. With a sigh, Tejana pulled back the covers and swung her bare legs over the side of the bed.
On the other side of the room, Dyoni stirred, still wrapped in her blankets, before rolling over and staring at Tejana blearily.
"So you made it back in one piece, I see," Tejana teased.
Gods, she thought, I must have slept deeply. I didn't even hear Dyoni come in.
Usually she was much more alert than that, even while she slept. It just went to show how exhausted she had been. "So how did the big date go?"
Dyoni frowned in confusion. "Date?"
"Your walk with Maerl," Tejana clarified, silently cursing her unconscious slip into twenty-first century Earth slang.
But Dyoni was evidently in no mood to home in on the mistake. Her eyes were starry and her lips were curved into a soft, tender smile. She was hugging her pillow to her, as if she was imagining it was Maerl. "Oh, it was wonderful!" she breathed. "He's just so brilliant. Did you know that there are three hundred and twenty seven different varieties of flutterwing in the Lake Abydos area alone?"
"No, actually, I didn't know that," Tejana said blankly. "Wow. Who'd have thought?"
Dyoni nodded enthusiastically. "Isn't it amazing?"
"Yeah, totally astonishing. Um, Dyoni, you didn't spend the whole time with Maerl talking about flutterwings, did you?"
The other girl laughed. "No, of course not, silly!"
"Well, that's a relief!" Tejana said fervently.
"He's an expert on fledershrews and cobblemice as well!"
Tejana stared at her friend incredulously, trying to decide whether Dyoni was winding her up. But the other girl was clearly off in a happy, radiant world of her own, full of Maerl and his amazing brilliance. Flutterwings and fledershrews...you have to be kidding! Tejana couldn't help remembering the hot, exquisite pleasure of the Master's lips on her skin, his hands intimately stroking and caressing her everywhere, the weight of his body crushing hers as he took her over and over again...
With a small gasp, she dragged herself out of her heated memories back to reality. Now that was her idea of a date, she thought with wry amusement, not chatting for hours about Gallifreyan wildlife. But everyone was different, she supposed. It just went to show that there was someone for everyone.
"That's great, Dyoni. Really, really...great!" she said sincerely, reaching for her clothes and starting to pull them on. "But I have to get going, otherwise I'll be late for breakfast duty."
Dyoni, who was not scheduled on for breakfast, merely snuggled back down into her bedclothes with a contented sigh, no doubt to dream some more about Maerl and his flutterwings. With a tolerant but exasperated smile, Tejana let her be and hurried about her own business.
The Refectory was absolutely crowded with students, both junior and senior. Breakfast was one of the busiest meal times of the day for the domestic staff, since nearly everyone had early lectures.
Like everyone else, Tejana was nearly run off her feet, fetching and carrying, bring out fresh food to the tables and clearing away the mess and debris from meals already eaten. As always, despite her hectic labour, her eyes were drawn inexorably to the Deca table. Eight of the ten members were there, chatting and laughing amongst themselves as they ate their meal. But two of the chairs were empty. Neither Theta or Koschei were there.
She wasn't sure why, but an unnamed foreboding suddenly wound its way around her hearts, an unexplained sensation of anxiety.
There was no reason to worry, she told herself. Just because they chose not to attend breakfast, didn't mean there was anything wrong. Perhaps they had slept in, or perhaps they weren't hungry. Perhaps they were just off on some mission of their own that had nothing to do with her at all. Really, she should be glad. After yesterday, facing up to either of them was the last thing she wanted to do. Even so, their absence ate away at her, unease festering in the back of her mind. If she had been able to get Millennia or even Drax on their own, she might have been tempted to ask them if they knew where the other two boys were. But they sat surrounded by the rest of the Deca, including a cold-eyed, angry-looking Ushas, and she didn't dare.
After all the students had finished their meal and the servants had cleaned the Refectory to Fionnula's exacting standards, Tejana was despatched back to the ballroom with a team of other servants, to finish the preparations for Otherstide. All her senses were on alert, fully expecting young Koschei to somehow turn up at any minute, looking for her, as he had done yesterday. But the morning stretched on and on, and there was no sign of him. She could feel her tension mounting as she helped to polish the marble floor, the very same floor they had made love on the day before. Where was he? There was no way in all the world he would just leave things as they were, not after what had happened between them. It was impossible. So why hadn't he come to find her, searching for answers? Had something happened to him after she left him last night?
By the end of the morning, all her optimism and hope had drained away again, dragged down into a spreading riptide of worry. She had worked herself up into such an anxious state, that it was almost a relief to see the shadowy figure, half-concealed behind one of the pillars at the entrance to the ballroom, waiting to waylay her as she went back to the kitchen for the midday meal with the other servants. As much as she was dreading this confrontation, it was better to get it over with than to stew about it all day. The anticipation was killing her.
However, when she drew nearer to the anonymous figure, she realised that it was not Koschei at all, but Theta. And one look at his face served to confirm every one of her worst fears. He had obviously been involved in some sort of fight. His tunic was torn, his features badly bruised and cut, and his left eye was swollen almost shut.
"Oh, stars, Lord Theta, are you all right?" she gasped. "What happened?"
"I made a mistake," he said tersely. "A bad one."
"A mistake? What sort of a mistake?"
He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her further into the shadow of the pillar, away from any interested eyes that might be passing by. "I was curious. About you."
"About me?" A cold feeling settled in her stomach. What the hell had happened? Had the Master done this to him, to protect her in some way, just as he had when Anzor threatened her? But surely he must know that Theta would never harm her. And where was young Koschei? "What are you talking about?"
Instead of releasing her, Theta's hand tightened almost painfully on her wrist, his blue eyes boring insistently into hers. "You don't add up, Kat. Nothing about you makes sense. You don't behave like any servant I've ever known, especially not a Shabogan servant. You're too proud, too arrogant - the way you speak, the way you carry yourself, everything about you! And you just happen to turn up at the Academy at the same time as these cracks in the continuum are beginning to manifest. The same time that Anzor gets mysteriously attacked. The same time that Ushas gets trapped in a rogue temporal loop. It's all a bit much of a coincidence, don't you think?"
Tejana pulled away from him, twisting her wrist in an attempt to get free. "You're hurting me!" she gritted out. "And I still have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't you?" he said harshly, refusing to relax his bruising grip. "Every time I tried to talk to you about Low Town, the place you were supposed to come from, you changed the subject, as if you had something to hide. So I decided to go there to find out for myself what it was."
"Low Town!" Tejana froze in horror, the terrible realisation striking her like a slap in the face. "You've been to Low Town? Oh gods, please tell me you didn't take Koschei! Please tell me he didn't go there because of me!"
Theta's face hardened in anger. "Yeah, I took Koschei. And, guess what? When we got there, we went into a tavern, because I thought that if I bought a drink and got into casual conversation with the bar-tender, I might be able to ask a few questions about you and your family. But instead, we bumped into Kelios, son of Aminestra, and a few of his Shabogan friends."
Kelios, son of Aminestra...and bastard son of Lord Marnal Oakdown...
Tejana's legs nearly went from under her at the sound of the hated name. Images flashed before her eyes, snapshots of the the vision the Master had shown her on Mnemosyne of that first terrible confrontation between the half-brothers – the shock and anguish the young Koschei had experienced as he found out the truth about his father, the brutal beating he had received at the hands of Kelios and his friends. Sickness gathered at the back of her throat. It had been bad enough to mentally share the horrible memory with her life-mate, without finding out that she was the one who had caused it all to happen!
"You knew all about Kelios, didn't you, Kat?" Theta snapped. "You knew all about his connection to the House of Oakdown, before you ever came to the Academy. Don't bother to deny it, I can tell by the look on your face!"
She didn't bother to deny it. Instead, she just ignored the question, focusing urgently on the only thing that mattered to her right then. "Koschei, how is he? Is he all right?"
"He's a mess. Those Shabogans beat him half to death," Theta replied, his voice trembling with grief and outrage. "I couldn't stop them. He's in the Infirmary. The med-techs used the tissue rectifier on him. They say he'll be all right in a couple of days. But he won't talk to me. He just turns his back and stares at the wall. I can't get him to say a word, except..." His voice trailed away, as if he was reluctant to complete the sentence.
"Except?" she prompted anxiously.
"Except that he wants to see you. That's why I'm here. To pass on the message. To ask you to go and see him."
Tejana's throat tightened at the flat, unfriendly tone of his voice, so different to the casual affection he had shown her before. She knew her father well enough to realise that Theta was very, very angry about what had happened to his friend. The only question was who his anger was truly aimed at. Was it really at her, as it appeared, for giving him a reason to visit Low Town? Or was it at himself, for taking Koschei with him on his ill-fated mission in the first place?
"You don't think I should go, do you?"
"I don't know. You tell me!" Theta growled bitterly. "Koschei agreed to come to Low Town a lot more willingly than I expected. And there's obviously something between you two that I'm not aware of, otherwise he wouldn't ask for you. So what exactly have I missed?"
At last, Tejana succeeded in twisting her hand free, and she took a step backwards, away from him.
"It isn't what you think. Not exactly, anyway."
"Oh really? What is it then?" he demanded. "Who are you really, Kat? What are you doing here? And why do I feel such a strong connection with you? Why do I feel that I should trust you, when every instinct I possess is warning me that you're a liar?"
She bit her lip, wishing with both her hearts she could tell him the truth. But the causal nexus was already tying itself in knots. That was clearly illustrated by what had just happened in Low Town. Simply by being here, she had inadvertently provoked one of the very events that had led to her being sent back to Gallifrey in the first place. By causing Koschei to meet his brother, she had precipitated their lifelong enmity, leading to the creation of the Cruciform during the Time War and the birth of the Chaos-Master on Mnemosyne, which had been the reason the real Master had been forced to pull her through the crack to safety. Even for a Time Lord, the paradoxic circularity of it all was difficult to fully comprehend. All she knew for sure was that she couldn't make the situation worse by trying to explain it all to Theta.
She shook her head and spread her arms in a helpless gesture. Apart from her confusing relationship with Koschei, Theta was her only ally on Gallifrey. The last thing she wanted to do was to alienate him. But, since she couldn't answer his questions, it seemed she had no choice.
"I am what you see, Lord Theta. I can't tell you any more than that. And that, whatever you might believe, I intend no harm - to you, to Lord Koschei, or to anyone else on Gallifrey."
With that, she turned away from him and began to walk up the passageway towards the transmat tubes.
"Wait, Kat! I haven't finished with you yet. Where the hell do you think you're going?" he called angrily after her.
"I have nothing more to say to you," she replied over her shoulder, without slowing her pace. "And I'm going to the Infirmary. Where else?"
He made no further attempt to stop her, but she could feel him watching her, his eyes heavy and suspicious on her back, as she left him standing alone in the corridor behind her. With a chill of recognition, she realised her time of anonymity was running out. His agile mind was still ticking over. In true Doctor-style, he would never let it go until he put it all together.
Piece by piece by piece.