Author's Note:

Hello, lovely people. Here is an unusually quick update, hope you don't mind.

Big thanks to the following readers who have made a hard, and somewhat emotional week, a bit less difficult:- MayFairy, Ahsilaa, gallifrey calls now, EDZEL2, Celestial Valkyrie, sailormajinmoon, aquafizzy10, Sawmaniac211, MountainLord-92 (x 2), Geraldine, XXXMariellaXXX, Imorgen, Aietradaea, Lost Moon and Theta'sWorstNightmare.

To Geraldine: Thanks so much for your review, as always. Hope the speed of this update makes you smile!

To Lost Moon: Glad you think my twists are still twisty, LOL. Yeah, Tejana certainly has a knack of getting into trouble and she probably did get it from the Doctor. Unfortunately, things are going to get a lot worse before they get better. Thanks very much for the review.

Here's the chapter, ciao for now!

- CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE -

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." (Edmund Burke)

Tejana wasn't the only one to see Borusa's face and realise that he knew the truth. Invisibly looking out over the obsidian ballroom, the Master recognised the avid gleam in his old tutor's eyes and he cursed, savagely and profusely. If the High Council found out about Tejana, the task of protecting her would become next to impossible. There was only one penalty for breaking the Fourth Law of Time. There was no excuse, no defence, no mitigation allowed. A Time Lord found guilty would be immediately executed, without exception. A wave of blazing white rage flooded through him, his perfect plan shattering into a billion pieces in front of his eyes. How had it all gone so terribly wrong? Tejana wasn't even supposed to be at the Ball, damn it all! He thought he'd made sure of that.

At first, he'd had no intention of releasing her from the safety of the dreamworld he'd created for her. His plan had been to keep her dreaming her days away, her physical body securely hospitalised in the servant's infirmary, where she would be unable to jump into any random temporal fissures that happened to show up, or generally do anything else to endanger herself or the baby. Then, when his father was dead and young Koschei was officially proclaimed the Kitriarch of House Oakdown, he would have seen to it that she was quietly transferred to his family estates, where he could shelter her until he was ready to orchestrate an official, High Council-sanctioned marriage between them.

It had been a good strategy, sound and workable, particularly given Tejana's alarming tendency to constantly get into trouble. Once he had her trapped in the dreamworld, he hadn't meant to let her go, he really hadn't, no matter what arguments she used against him. But then, at the last minute, as she had backed towards the door, she had looked at him and he had seen the faith in her green eyes. Faith in him, that he wouldn't hold her against her will. Trust, that he would never harm her. And he had hesitated. Because throughout the entire time they'd been together, he'd never seen that in her gaze before. Oh, there had been heated desire, from the very beginning, even as far back as the Valiant. And then, after their encounter in the Matrix, there had been a bewildered look of emerging need, as she slowly and reluctantly came to acknowledge that she didn't want to live without him. And eventually, there had even been love, intense and passionate and enduring, a look he could now never get enough of, a look that said she was his and only his, forever. But faith and trust? Not so much. Not after everything he had done in his life, all the hate and misery and devastation, all the people he had killed and maimed, all the planets he had destroyed. He had never asked her for it. He told himself he had never wanted it. Until last night, when he had unexpectedly seen it in her eyes...and, against every one of his instincts, he had let her go.

He still wasn't quite sure why he had done it. A ridiculous, uncharacteristic moment of softness, of weakness, of vulnerability? He was the Master - before Tejana had become part of his life, none of those things had even existed for him. The idea that she could have changed him that much in such a short time bothered him more than he could say. However, call it what you would, the fact remained that he had done it and it couldn't be undone. She had slipped away, out of his reach until she slept again. And with that unlikely to happen before the crack was due to arrive that evening, he couldn't afford to wait. Therefore he'd had to adjust his plan accordingly.

Thinking quickly, he'd located Fionnula's room and had insinuated himself into her dreams instead, ambushing her sleeping mind just before she woke to face the day. Her mind was strong, but she was not a Time Lord, and she was no match for him. The contrast between her unconscious psyche and Tejana's had been as unsettling as it was absolute. There were no warm colours or shining horizons in the Head Housemaid's dreams. Instead, there had been long grey, metallic corridors, leading off into an endless infinity, bitterly cold and filled with hard, sharp edges. He had shuddered as he had walked down those frigid psychological passageways, because he recognised the dull, featureless walls. They were the same walls that had hemmed Koschei Oakdown in for years, crowding and constricting his own dreams, until he had realised that by becoming the Master he would no longer have to answer to anyone in the Universe but himself. They were the walls of duty and he had seen more of them than he had ever wanted to. It was only with a supreme effort that he managed to resist the overwhelming temptation to smash some holes right through them, in a desperate attempt to let in some light and air. Hurriedly, ignoring the virtual perspiration that was gathering like loathing on his skin, he implanted a powerful suggestion in Fionnula's mind that Tejana should be refused permission to serve at the Ball. It wasn't as difficult as it might have been, since the idea had already been circulating around in there anyway. From what he could tell from reading her thoughts, Tejana had been publicly speaking out of turn – now why didn't that surprise him? – and the Head Housemaid had been seriously considering the means she should use to chastise her. All he had to do was to subtly reinforce the thought that 'Kat' had to be kept away from the Ball at all costs. Then he got the hell out of Fionnula's head, more pleased to leave those claustrophobic grey corridors behind than he ever wanted to acknowledge.

It should have worked perfectly, giving him all the leeway he needed to rid himself of his father, without any interference from his lifemate, or any chance that his revenge would put her or his child at risk. And after Lord Oakdown was satisfactorily dead, he would have had plenty of time to prevent her from leaping into the crack, keeping her here with him on Gallifrey by any means necessary.

But something had obviously gone wrong. Somehow that stupid serving woman's antiquated, rigid notions of duty had been strong enough to override his hypnotic suggestion, the unyielding grey walls in her mind shifting to close his mental instructions out. Now Tejana was here and everything he'd worked for since the crack opened in the Underhenge was under threat.

He stared down at her, watching his younger self lead her through the complex, intricate movements of the dance. It had been a long time since he had danced the steps of Otherstide. Not since he had realised what a farce it all was – all that puerile nonsense about celebrating and maintaining the balance of the Universe. He was a Time Lord. The Universe had been created to serve him, not the other way around. Why should he care if it was in balance or not? However, seeing Tejana's slender, delicate form matching his younger self so perfectly, as though they were two halves of a whole, he felt as if something was hurting him deep inside. He had still believed in it all back then, when he was young, with his whole life in front of him, so long ago now. He couldn't help wondering if he still would, if he'd had her to dance with all along?

He shoved the thought forcefully away, not wanting to look at it too closely. Power was all that mattered. With enough power, even the balance of the Universe would be at his discretion, subject to his whim. So many times before, he had come close to grasping it, and yet always he had been thwarted. But this time he had added incentive to succeed – the lives of all three of them depended on it, his and Tejana's and the baby's. This time, he couldn't afford to fail.

And this time, ironically enough, it wasn't the Doctor putting his schemes in jeopardy, or even Tejana herself. Instead, it was all down to his own vengeful, impulsive, adolescent self. The worst part was, he hadn't even seen it coming. And he should have. Even though he didn't remember any of this happening before, after everything he had discovered in Low Town, striking back at his father in this way was exactly what he would have done back in this timeline, had the opportunity arisen. Dancing the Great Dance with a Shabogan servant girl in the face of Gallifreyan society. He had to admit, it was both ingenious and effective, targeting Lord Oakdown right where it would hurt most – his pride in his House. His father's face was almost apoplectic with uncontrollable rage. But, until the Dance ended, there was absolutely nothing the old son-of-a-bitch could do about it except stand there and bear the humiliation. If it wasn't for the fact that Tejana was now in deadly danger, the Master would have enjoyed the moment very much indeed.

However, the fact was, she was in danger and she knew it. Surrounded by all these Time Lord minds, she was shielding harder than ever before, desperate to keep her mind hidden from the psychic link. But he was her life-mate, and complete shielding from him was impossible. Even through her intricate and expert mental barriers, he could sense her inward panic as she realised she was trapped.

His gaze shifted coldly back to Borusa. So far, the senior Time Lord was the only one who had seen it, the only one who had understood. He could still retrieve the situation. His younger self had now destroyed Tejana's anonymity completely. She would forever be notorious for being the servant girl who had dared to dance the Great Dance with the Heir of Oakdown. It would make it very difficult for their eventual marriage to be the quiet, private affair he had planned. But it could still be done. The entire political structure of Gallifrey was built on lies and half-truths – or "spin", as they had called it on Earth, during his campaign for Prime Minister as Harold Saxon. And nobody was better at spin than the Master, when he put his mind to it, even without the benefit of the Archangel Network. Before he was finished, he would have the whole Citadel dancing in the streets, joyfully celebrating their marriage.

However, first he would have to do something about Borusa. He had nothing personal against his old tutor, but he couldn't be allowed to reveal Tejana as a Time Lady to the High Council. Which meant there was only one possible solution.

Like Lord Oakdown, Borusa had to die.

Now.

Tejana was so afraid, she could scarcely breathe. Her feet kept moving of their own accord, but the sudden, triumphant look of insight on Borusa's face had paralysed her mind, the realisation stabbing through her that soon she would once again be condemned to face Time Lord justice, through no fault of her own. Time Lord justice! In her experience, the very words were a travesty. Memories of the suffering she had endured at the hands of Councillor Rohan, when she was barely more than a child, flooded back to choke her. And if they would do that to a child, there was very little they would not do to her as an adult.

The dance that had once seemed so beautiful now resembled a nightmare. There was no harmony or balance inside her head, just the dissonance and discord of fear. But she could not stop. The ring of faces surrounding the dance floor began to spin, just as the standing stones had whirled around her back at Stonehenge. But this time, the Doctor was not there to steady her. Dancing opposite her, Koschei's eyes were cold and hard, like dark blue marbles, oblivious to everything except the revenge he was effecting against his father. There was no help or comfort for her there. She reached for the older Master, hoping to find him nearby, but all she could sense was distant anger and frustration.

And still the dance went on. But now the music was drawing to a close and, one by one, the other couples surrounding them were beginning to peel away, leaving the dance floor to rejoin the crowd, as if obeying some sort of silent instruction. Up on the dais, all the senior Time Lords were on their feet, with the Lord President at their apex, their faces as smooth and as grave as stone. With a chill, Tejana realised what was happening. The other couples were being commanded to leave the floor through the psychic link. Soon, she and Koschei would be the only ones dancing. And then, when the music stopped, the crowd in front of the dais would part and the deputation of senior Time Lords would sweep towards them, bringing retribution in their wake. And that was when Borusa would unmask her for who she truly was. Frantically, she began sorting through her non-existent options. There had to be a way out of this, there had to be! There was always a way out.

But nothing came to her, and still more couples left the floor, including Drax and his partner. On the sidelines, she caught sight of Ushas in her purple gown. The other Time Lady was smiling spitefully, looking forward with delight to the hell that was about to break loose. This was definitely going to be a Ball to remember!

Soon, only Theta and Melana and Rallon and Millennia remained on the floor with them, the three couples intertwining back and forth in the dance, never missing a step, with every eye in the huge, crowded room fixed on them. Apart from the soaring music, there was no sound at all. All conversation had trailed away into breathless, anticipatory silence and all that was left was the majesty of the dance. If it hadn't been so awful, it would have been strangely beautiful.

Then a look of pain crossed Theta's face, and Tejana knew he was being ordered to leave too. For a moment, he seemed to struggle against the mental compulsion, unwilling to abandon his friends to their fate. But she caught his gaze and gave her head a small shake. There was nothing he could do to help them and she couldn't risk something happening to disrupt his betrothal to Melana. Reluctantly, he swirled his fiancée back into the safety of the crowd, followed closely by Rallon and Millennia.

Tejana and Koschei were left alone, circling each other on the great, black floor, their fingers intimately entwined as the dance died around them.

"Don't worry, Kat," he whispered, the warmth of his mouth close to her ear. "I won't let them harm you, I promise. This has nothing to do with you."

Her eyes glistened with tears and she smiled up at him. If only that were true, my love, she thought sadly. This really is goodbye, even if it's not quite the one I meant us to have.

With a joyful, triumphant crescendo, the music reached its peak and, with a final delicate flourish, faded away. The silence in the great hall was so complete that you could have heard a pin drop. Deftly, Koschei spun her outward until she was at arm's length from him. Stepping back, he gave her a deep, formal bow. Not to be outdone, refusing to show her fear to the crowd, Tejana raised her chin proudly, and swept him a curtsey that was both graceful and sensual. He took her hand and raised her to her feet, turning her to face the dais. Then, before she could react, he pulled her against him and kissed her passionately, both hands cradling the back of her head. Another communal gasp of shock rippled through the gathered assembly, instantly stifled, as everybody's eyes swung up to the dais.

"ENOUGH!" Lord Oakdown roared, his voice cracking out across the onyx floor like a whip.

Koschei released her, his expression twisted with contempt as he looked up at his father. "Is it, Father? Is it really?" he asked in a mocking voice. "I hadn't had nearly enough yet. But then, when it comes to kissing Shabogan women, I suppose you would know a lot better than me. I bow to your experience." He inclined his head coldly.

Tejana flushed with humiliation. In that moment, she could have quite cheerfully have strangled Koschei. The kiss had been intensely sexual, the sort of highly-charged caress that should only be exchanged in a bedroom, not on a dance floor in front of a thousand eager witnesses. As if they weren't in enough trouble already, did he have to go and make it worse?

President Drall cleared his throat. "Koschei Oakdown," he began pompously, obviously about to launch into a censorious speech of some sort.

But suddenly, Tejana was no longer listening. Invisible fingers stroked across her cheek and she realised that the Master was right there with her. But his touch wasn't in the least bit reassuring. It was purposeful, almost like a warning. Something was about to happen, something that wasn't good. As President Drall droned on about Koschei 'shaming and besmirching' the ancient traditions of the Time Lords, with Lord Oakdown standing on the dais at his left and Borusa at his right, her mind shot back to her meeting with the Master a few days earlier in this very room, when he had outlined his plan to her. All I need is for an unfortunate accident to befall my father and then my younger self becomes the Kitriarch of the House of Oakdown... An unfortunate accident. A very public unfortunate accident. And what could be more public than the Otherstide Ball?

All the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention and both her hearts leaped into her mouth. Slowly, acting purely on instinct, she did the one thing she had never bothered to do when she had danced here before...she raised her eyes to the huge, shimmering chandelier that glittered right over the top of the dais. As if seeing it for the first time, she registered the long, razor sharp ornamental spikes interspersed among the crystals – the same silver spikes that she had polished so assiduously the day before. An accident, just waiting to happen.

And, even as she watched, horrified, she saw every crystal on the chandelier tremble.

Briefly, the Doctor's fingers hesitated, before adjusting the sonic screwdriver to a setting he very rarely used. He was very fond of stating that the screwdriver was a tool and not a weapon, and couldn't be used to harm anyone, but that wasn't strictly true. If adjusted correctly, the device was capable of projecting a focused beam of extremely high intensity sound at its target. Theoretically, the vibration of acoustic energy imparted by such a beam could disrupt the molecular structure of the target, which would stun or kill most humanoids or do considerable damage to an object.

Ordinarily, he would prefer to cut his hand off before using the screwdriver as a weapon. But this was a Dalek and it was not only threatening his friends, it was threatening the survival of the entire Universe, if he couldn't fix things as quickly as possible. Under these circumstances, he had no choice. The only thing was, he wasn't quite sure how effective sonic waves would be against dalekanium plating. Not to mention the fact that, unlike Hart's laser, it needed to be used at close range to be effective. But if he could just get it up against the Dalek's head casing...

Crouching beside the Pandorica, he waited for the two Daleks to come nearer. He heard Hart give a shout from around the other side of the box and there was another blast of iridescent blue light, striking the Dalek on the left in a shower of sparks. It spun around furiously, smoke pouring out of its neck vents, obviously incapacitated.

"EX-TER-MIN-ATE!" the remaining Dalek screamed, returning fire in Hart's direction in a fierce explosion of sound.

The Doctor couldn't see what had happened to Hart. Even worse, at that moment, a dark shadow appeared in the doorway, carrying a torch. To the Doctor's dismay, he realised it was the museum night watchman, attracted to the Pandorica Room by the noise of the battle.

"What's going on?" the man called, flashing the thin beam of his torch around. "Who's there?"

The surviving Dalek swung around to face the new arrival.

"Get out of here!" the Doctor yelled, desperate to save the man's life, but still too far away to use the screwdriver. "Go! JUST RUN!"

But the watchman continued to hover uncertainly in the doorway, his torch held protectively in front of him.

"Drop the de-vice!" the Dalek commanded.

"It's not a weapon, it's a torch!" the Doctor said urgently. "Scan it! It's not a weapon, and you don't have the power to waste!"

The Dalek hesitated for a moment, it's eyestalk rotating up and down, as if ascertaining whether or not this was true. "Scans in-di-cate in-trud-er un-armed!"

The watchman made a noise that sounded remarkably like a derisive snort. "You think?" he inquired coldly, tossing the torch aside. At once, there was a familiar whirring of robotic servos, and in the dim light, the Doctor saw the man's hand drop down to reveal an evil-looking laser pistol. Another bolt of bright light tore through the air, impacting squarely with the Dalek's quivering eyestalk.

"Vi-sion im-paired! Vi-sion..." the Dalek whined pitifully, its voice fading to a rattling, indisticnt gurgle as its energy drained away.

The Doctor leapt to his feet and ran forward, his screwdriver at the ready in case the Dalek showed any further signs of life. But before he had taken more than a few steps, Amy was already running past him.

"Amy!" the night watchman cried, the joyful voice now clearly recognisable as Rory's.

"Rory!" she responded, throwing herself into his arms.

He buried his face in her hair, holding her as close to him as he could. "I'm sorry! I couldn't help it! It just happened!"

She tilted her head back and looked him in the face. "Oh, shut up!" she exclaimed, before pulling his head down and glueing his mouth to hers in a deep, loving kiss.

"Yeah, shut up!" the Doctor cut in, hurrying over to them. "'Cos we've got to go! Come on!"

"I waited!" Rory said, gazing emotionally into Amy's tearful eyes, totally oblivious of the interruption. "For two thousand years! I waited for you!"

"No, still shut up!" she commanded in a choked voice, kissing him fiercely all over again.

The Doctor hovered anxiously, bobbing back and forth, trying to get their attention as the passionate embrace went on and on. "And break! And breathe!" he suggested, but it was apparent they still weren't listening to him.

"Well, somebody obviously didn't get out much in two thousand years," a sardonic voice commented. "Ah, young love, it's such a glorious thing!"

The Doctor looked around, only to see Captain John Hart sauntering towards him, carefully brushing off his red jacket. Little Amelia Pond followed in his wake, watching him admiringly.

"Not dead then?" the Doctor returned.

Hart smirked. "Sorry to disappoint. Bastard singed my new jacket though, if that makes you feel any better."

"It doesn't."

Coming to stand beside him, Hart eyed him closely and his wicked grin widened, as he finally had a chance to notice the fez perched precariously on the Doctor's head. "Nice hat, Doc. Suits you!"

"It's not a hat, it's a fez, I wear a fez now," the Doctor corrected loftily, straightening the tassel on his his newly-acquired headwear. "And yes, it does, doesn't it?"

Tejana had only a split second to make a decision.

The chandelier was poised to plummet to the ground. She had no doubt that it would fall in such a way that the glittering silver spikes would impale both of Lord Oakdown's hearts, preventing regeneration and killing him instantly – the Master's engineering genius would see to that. And not only Lord Oakdown. Lord Borusa also stood under the enormous monstrosity. She knew her lifemate's ruthless protective instincts well enough to guess that his old tutor would also be fatally injured, thereby keeping her safe from harm.

In the resulting horror and confusion, the scandal of the Great Dance would be forgotten. It would be declared a terrible, tragic accident. With his father dead, young Koschei would be proclaimed the new Kitriarch of House Oakdown, just as the Master had planned. And with Borusa dead, Tejana would be spared from having to face the justice of the High Council.

And all she had to do was...nothing.

Just stand back, allow the Master to have his way, let it all happen as it would. And it wouldn't even be her fault, not really. Sure, Lord Oakdown would die, but didn't he deserve to? Didn't the Master deserve this moment of revenge, after all his father had put him through? And Borusa – if Borusa died here, cleanly and painlessly, wouldn't that be better for him than living on, until the lust for power slowly corrupted his soul and he ended up encased in stone for eternity within the Tomb of Rassilon? Remembering his tortured face leering in petrified pain and fear, killing him this way seemed almost merciful.

And maybe... just maybe...she could use the panic and confusion of the falling chandelier to slip away to the Adytum when no-one was looking. Maybe, if she just let it happen, she could still escape back to her own time.

It took only a fleeting second for all this reasoning to flash through her mind like a streak of lightning, temptation piling upon temptation, justification following justification, until she was convinced she could actually go through with it.

But then her eyes dropped down from the chandelier and she saw Theta and Melana standing in the crowd, watching her. Melana was biting her lip, a worried, bewildered look on her face, and Theta had his arm comfortingly around her. Staring back at her young parents, Tejana heard again Theta's voice, referring to her father, never dreaming it was himself he was talking about: "I wish I could meet him...then maybe I could tell him he has a wonderful, amazing and very brave daughter."

In that moment, remembering Eleven's steady, penetrating blue-green gaze, she knew with sickening clarity that if she did this thing, she would never be able to face the Doctor again.

On the dais in front of her, Lord Borusa stepped forward, his eyes fixed on her like a smug cat watching a particularly delicious mouse, and placed his hand on Drall's arm, interrupting the President's righteous lecture, preparing to say something himself.

And far above their heads, the massive chain holding up the chandelier stretched...and strained...and snapped.