Author's Note: Thank you so much to the wonderful people who reviewed my last chapter - Purplestan, JanetheFantasyLover and PushToShove - I love you guys! This chapter is dedicated to you all.

Chapter 39

"This road is going nowhere,

And these, these shoes are worn too thin.

There's always should haves, where I'm going,

There's always could haves, where I've been.

There's always footsteps from behind me,

Why don't they ever read the writing on the wall,

And all the time I've spent rewinding,

It might mean nothing,

it might mean nothing at all."

Anywhere But Here - Aaron Lewis

The Doctor sat bolt upright, his eyes springing open. He knew instantly where he was. The warm lighting, the beloved hum of the engines, the musical psychic resonance inside his head - he was inside the console room of his TARDIS.

"Oh!" he exclaimed in a delighted tone. "I escaped, then! Brilliant! I love it when I do that!"

His hands went to his legs, patting up and down the length of them. "Legs, yes!" Then, he fumbled towards his neck. "Bow tie! Cool!" Lastly, he brushed his fingers across the top of his head, only to be disappointed when he found nothing there. "Oh well... I can buy a fez."

"Are you quite finished gabbling?" a familiar voice from behind him queried sarcastically. "Or should I go and get a coffee and come back later?"

Without any sign of surprise, the Doctor glanced back over his shoulder, calmly taking in the shadowy, black-dressed figure leaning nearby against the wall. "Hello, Master. I thought I might run into you again."

The Master gave an unimpressed snort. "Give yourself a medal then, genius, because here I am."

Pushing away from the wall, he moved forward and crouched down beside his once-friend, so that their eyes were level. "Tell me how she is, Doctor." His gaze was intense and unwavering, a direct challenge, as if he was expecting the other Time Lord to refuse to answer.

"She's fine," the Doctor assured him. It was still bizarre, he thought, that he was being held accountable to the Master, of all people, for his own daughter's well-being. However, after everything that had happened, there no longer seemed to be any value in arguing the point. "The Pandorica healed her. I made sure of it, I promise."

"And my son?"

"Also fine. He's strong... like his father."

The Master exhaled softly in relief. An expression of intense weariness passed over his face, as he sat back heavily on the floor beside the Doctor, his shoulders slumped, his head in his hands. "Good. That's good."

The Doctor studied him, remembering the boy Koschei, and thinking of all the two of them had gone through, across the years, since leaving the Academy. "You sacrificed yourself to save them," he said quietly. "Why?"

The Master's head came up to give him a defiant glare. "Because I'm her lifemate. It was my right!" he gritted out. "And if you doubted that I would save her, why did you give me your artron energy?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Because I didn't doubt it. Right then, in that moment, I didn't doubt it at all."

Even as he said the words, he realised how true they were. Lying on the museum floor in a pool of his own blood, he hadn't hesitated. For just those few crucial seconds, centuries of enmity had fallen away, and they'd been Theta and Koschei again, an inseparable team, sharing a trust that was unbreakable, each knowing the other's thoughts without ever needing to be told.

The Master said nothing, his face blank and unreadable. But the Doctor couldn't help wondering if he was remembering too, all the times they'd had each other's back, all the times when it had been just the two of them, against the world.

They weren't friends any more, far from it. But now they weren't enemies either, thanks to the woman they both loved. Where that left them, neither of them seemed to know.

"What happened to the Chaos-Master?" the Doctor asked, intentionally breaking the awkward moment by changing the subject.

There wasn't the slightest fear in his mind that he was talking to the wrong Master. As convincing as the doppelganger had been, it hadn't fooled him for long. And now, with the real article sitting beside him, he was surprised that it had ever fooled him at all.

"It didn't survive passing through the crack," the Master replied, a sudden undertone of triumph in his voice as he recalled the moment he had finally destroyed his enemy. "It was never anything more than a rogue psychic extrapolation. The Time Fire absorbed it. Painfully, I hope."

"Well, maybe next time you'll be more careful about extrapolating your psyche," the Doctor commented dryly. "Lesson learned."

"Yeah, thanks for that advice." The Master's response was pure acid. "I'll keep it in mind the next time Rassilon offers me a deal."

The Doctor frowned. "Rassilon? What does he have to do with all this?"

"It's a long and tedious story." With a visible effort, the Master levered himself to his feet, dusting himself off. "But not quite as long and tedious as the one I'm about to have to live through."

"What are you talking about?" Following suit, the Doctor also stood up, staggering slightly. To his surprise, the Master's hand shot out and steadied him. "Sorry, legs a bit rubbery."

Instantly, the other Time Lord pulled his hand away, as if he'd been burned. The Doctor had the distinct impression that the Master was just as taken aback by his own spontaneous gesture of help as the Doctor was.

"I'm talking about that." The Master inclined his head towards the raised dais at the centre of the console room.

For the first time, the Doctor realised that two other people had entered the room, and were deep in the middle of a conversation. With a sinking feeling, he recognised that one of them was a slightly younger version of himself. The other one was Amy Pond. She was dressed in a colourful Hawaiian-print shirt and shorts, and there was a large pair of sunglasses perched over her nose.

"Lyle Beach," the other Doctor was saying enthusiastically. "The beach is the best! Automatic sand!"

"Automatic sand?" Amy replied, bewildered. "What does that mean?"

"It's totally automated!" The other Doctor was dancing around the console, busily flicking switches and pulling levers. "Cleans up the lolly sticks all by itself!"

Neither of them showed any indication that they were aware of anyone else standing in the console room behind them.

"Hang on!" the older Doctor whispered to the Master, trying to get his head around what was going on. He hadn't been exactly sure what he would find on the other side of the Big Bang Two. That was the problem with so many of his plans, he so often came up with the beginning, without being able to properly predict the end. That's why he ended up winging it so often. He'd been sure that he would find the Master waiting for him once the TARDIS exploded, and he'd been right about that. But as to what happened next, he had no idea. "This is last week, when we went to Space Florida."

"You're rewinding," the other Time Lord said flatly. "We both are. Our timestreams are unravelling, erasing. Closing."

The Doctor felt a chill travelling up his spine. So he hadn't escaped, after all. Time, in her own capricious way, was just drawing the end out a little more slowly and agonisingly than he had expected. Glancing up at the big view-screen on the wall, he saw that it was bisected by a jagged, glowing crack. Yet, even as he watched, the fracture began to grow thinner, the bright white light fading away into nothingness.

"Hello, Universe," he whispered, realising that his plan had worked. The universe was back, in all her rampant glory... barring just a couple of notable exceptions. "Goodbye, Doctor."

Spinning away from the Master, he advanced urgently towards the console, shouting Amy's name as he went.

"Amy! AMY!"

She turned, tilting her sunglasses down and peering over the top of them, a puzzled look on her face, as though she could hear something, but not clearly. A voice from a long, long away, and growing fainter by the moment.

"It's no use," the Master said grimly. "It's too..."

But before he could complete the sentence, everything around them jerked violently, like a record jumping a track, accompanied by a whooshing, roaring sound. The Doctor felt as if he was travelling backwards in a rollercoaster at a hundred miles an hour, images cascading past his vision in gut-wrenching reverse. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the nauseating sensation stopped, and he found himself standing in the middle of a quiet, suburban street, unmistakably on Earth. The Master was still there, just a few steps away, swearing under his breath and shaking his head like a wet dog that had just surfaced while swimming in the ocean.

"Ah!" the Doctor began. "This must be..."

And sure enough, Amy came into view, a small white card in her hand, and heading for a letterbox in front of one of the houses.

"Three weeks ago, when she put the card in the window. AMY! Amy, I need to tell you something."

Again, she glanced back briefly, in a bewildered fashion, before shrugging and hurrying away up the road.

"I told you," the Master grouched, pinching the bridge of his nose, as if he had an almighty headache. "I've already been through all this. She can't hear you."

"No!" The Doctor's agile brain was ticking over, sorting through all the information he had to hand, processing it with lightning-fast rapidity, putting it all together. "No, she can hear me. Maybe not consciously... but subconsiously, that's a whole different thing! And if she can hear me..."

Slowly, very slowly, he turned, and there it was, the grinning crack, stretched across the black bitumen of the road. In the blink of an eye, it snapped shut, and he and the Master were spinning backwards through time again. This time, however, he forced himself to concentrate hard, focusing every atom of his being on the place he wanted to go.

When the rushing flood of receding memories had faded, they were in a dark, gloomy forest, dripping with moss. The Doctor's eyes brightened in triumph. "Alfava Metraxis," he muttered to the Master. "After the crash of the Byzantium. This is the Maze of the Dead."

"Great," the Master remarked, looking around at the gnarled and twisted trees in a disdainful fashion. "Looks like just the sort of rubbish planet you'd be stupid enough to turn up on. All that stuff about seeing the wonders of the Universe you're always shoving down my throat. Don't you ever go anywhere with a bit more class?"

The Doctor ignored him, inching quietly forward and peering around a lichen-encrusted rock formation. Not far away, just as he had expected, he saw Amy, sitting on a sunken boulder, her head bowed and her eyes closed. She looked like she was praying, but the Doctor knew that wasn't the case at all. He saw his own back retreating into the gloom, he could hear himself calling over his shoulder, relaying instructions at his usual break-neck pace. "Good luck, everyone. Behave. Do not let that girl open her eyes. Amy, later. River, going to need your computer." The undergrowth rustled as he rushed away, intent on his mission.

"Doctor." The quivering fear in the girl's voice was potent enough to almost be tangible. The fear of the unknown, the fear of not being able to see what danger was coming for her. The fear of dying blind and alone on an inhospitable alien planet, light years from home. "Doctor?"

His younger self was gone, but if he could just speak to her, just for a few moments...

Quickly and quietly, careful not to startle her, he moved forward and crouched beside her, reaching for her hands. "Amy, you need to start trusting me, it's never been more important."

She tilted her head, eyes still tightly shut. Nevertheless, clearly, she could hear him. Amy Pond, his best friend, could still hear his voice. His heart leaped in his chest, bright hope beginning to stir. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. It was the biggest gamble he'd ever taken in his long life, and that was saying something. But if his luck could just hold, one more time...

"You don't always tell me the truth!" she said accusingly.

"If I always told you the truth, I wouldn't need you to trust me."

Nobody, he thought, could fault the logic of that argument. Amy didn't even try, she had other more pressing matters on her mind.

"Doctor... the crack in my wall... how can it be here?"

"I don't know yet," the Doctor told her, squeezing her hands reassuringly. "But I'm working it out. Now, listen. Remember what I told you when you were seven."

It wasn't a question, although Amy assumed that it was.

"What did you tell me?"

"No," he said, leaning his head against hers. "No, that's not the point. You have to remember."

"Doctor!" The oncoming roaring of the crack nearly drowned out the sound of the Master's warning shout. The Doctor was left with only the briefest second to brush a kiss on Amy's forehead before he was tumbling backwards through time again.

"Remember what?" he heard her cry. "Doctor? Doctor!"

But he couldn't answer, he'd already been swept away into the roiling maelstrom. And the next stop was the most important, no room for error, make or break for his entire, tenuous plan. He could feel the Master nearby, buffeted back and forth by the chronon winds. The other Time Lord had obviously employed his formidable willpower to delay the rewind of his own history just long enough to confirm with the Doctor that Tejana was safe. Now, it appeared their last moments were destined to be linked together. Strangely, the Doctor found the presence of his erstwhile nemesis to be almost comforting, even if he doubted the Master would share the sentiment.

Walls seemed to explode out of nowhere around them – the gloomy entrance hall of an old house, with a set of creaky-looking stairs ascending behind them into the darkness.

"Now where are we?" the Master grunted.

"Amelia's house," the Doctor responded. "When she was seven. The night she waited."

Hurriedly, before he was asked for any explanations, he led the way out of the front door and into the garden, with the Master reluctantly following along behind.

It was night time. The leaves rustled in a light wind, the grass was sprinkled with moonlight. Somewhere, an owl hooted eerily. And sure enough, right at the end of the lawn, a small girl wearing a woollen hat and red wellington boots was curled up on top of a suitcase, fast asleep.

"The girl who waited," the Doctor said tenderly, crouching down beside her and lifting her into his arms.

"She's seven, you said?"

The Master's abrupt question had an odd, almost poignant note to it. Glancing around, the Doctor saw that the other Time Lord's whiskey-coloured eyes were fixed on the child in his arms, but the expression in them was distant, as if he wasn't seeing Amy at all.

"And she's out here in the dark, waiting for you."

"Yes," the Doctor said curtly, turning away and carrying the child back towards the house. He already had more than enough guilt to bear when it came to Amy. He didn't need the Master adding his two-cents worth, just to be malicious. To his surprise, however, the Master said nothing more. Instead, he picked up Amelia's suitcase and brought it with them, trudging all the way up the stairs in the Doctor's wake, and into the little girl's bedroom.

Gently, the Doctor laid Amy into her bed, pulled the covers up around her, and tucked her in. Inwardly, he was praying that the Master wouldn't interrupt with any of his trademark sarcasm. This was too important. Everything hung on this one moment in time. Everything for the Doctor and the Master, everything for Tejana, everything for her child. It all depended on him finding the right words. And he had to do it quickly. Already, to his horror, he could feel the pull of the cracks, wanting to drag them even further back through their crumbling timelines.

He pulled up a small stool and sat beside the bed, his head bowed. Behind him, in the doorway, the Master stood in the motionless in the shadows, his black clothing making him almost invisible.

"It's funny," the Doctor murmured ruefully to the sleeping child. "I thought if you could hear me, I could hang on somehow. Silly me. Silly old Doctor. When you wake up, you'll have a mum and dad, and you won't even remember me. Well, you'll remember me a little. I'll be a story in your head. But that's okay. We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh? Because it was, you know. It was the best. The daft old man who stole a magic box and ran away."

He did feel old. So very old. The energy was seeping out of him, like the sands of time trickling through an hourglass. Time that had always seemed so limitless, and now was fast running out.

"Did I ever tell you that I stole it?" he continued, a faint, tired smile tugging at his lips. "Well, I borrowed it. I was always going to take it back. Oh, that box. Amy, you'll dream about that box. It'll never leave you. Big and little at the same time. Brand new and ancient, and the bluest blue ever. And the times we had, eh? Would have had. Never had. In your dreams, they'll still be there. The Doctor and Amy Pond, and the days that never came."

The rushing sound was coming again, an unstoppable force, a temporal tidal wave, roaring inside his head.

"Live well, love Rory," he managed, just before he was swept away, just in case this was the last time he ever spoke to her. "Bye, bye Pond."

He didn't try to fight it any more, he was much too weary. He'd done all he could do, risking everything on one last toss of the dice. Now it didn't matter any more where the rollercoaster of rewinding memories took him.

The next time he opened his leaden eyelids, he was standing on a hillside in the dark, shoulder to shoulder with the Master. Below them, a huge crowd stood facing a sweeping staircase, which led up to the pillared entrance of an immense building made of pure white marble. It was night, the darkness which surrounded the stadium held back by a circle of brightly-burning ceremonial torches, the flames dancing in the breeze.

An imposing figure in golden, full-flowing Gallifreyan robes descended the staircase with great pomp and ceremony. The Gold Usher, the Doctor realised in surprise. This was Gallifrey, in the gathering place outside the Sanctuary of Cold Lamentation.

"Tejanakaturadilena, of the House of Lungbarrow," the Gold Usher announced in a booming voice.

From the front of the crowd, a tiny girl with long blonde hair was thrust forward, to stand shrinking at the foot of the stairs, every line of her body apparently frozen in terror.

"This is Tejana's initiation into the Time Lord Academy," the Doctor muttered in confusion, his hearts wrenching as he immediately recognised his daughter. "But that doesn't make any sense. This isn't one of my memories. I wasn't even on Gallifrey when she was initiated."

"No," the Master replied flatly. "You weren't."

Slowly, disbelievingly, the Doctor turned to look at his old enemy. The other Time Lord was standing with his arms folded, his posture stiff, his expression unyielding and his eyes narrow, as he stared rigidly down across the crowd.

"But you were, weren't you?" The sudden shocked understanding hit the Doctor like a punch in the stomach – a punch he had never even seen coming. "This isn't part of my rewind. It's part of yours."

And even as he spoke, he heard his daughter's voice, small and afraid and yearning, echoing across the years through the psychic link.

I'm going to be one of the ones that run away, before I even get to the Untempered Schism. Oh Father, where are you? I need you, I need you so much!

Down below, she turned to face the crowd, and he knew in his hearts she was searching for him, desperately hoping that by some miracle, he would be there to help her. But he hadn't been, had he? He'd been somewhere else, far across the galaxies, he didn't even know where. Helping someone else probably, saving strangers on another planet, far far away. Not here, where he should have been, protecting his motherless child, easing the agonising loneliness and hopelessness he saw in her face. The sorrow of his own failings made him feel sick with shame to the very marrow of his bones, the culpable grief that she had been forced to face this alone.

But then he heard it. The calm voice within the psychic link, directed towards the child.

Tejana. You're not alone. I'm here.

Incredulously, he glanced again at the Master. The other man hadn't moved, still staring out over the crowd, but a small muscle worked in his jaw, and his brown eyes were suspiciously bright.

Nobody should be alone on the Eve of Cold Lamentation. So I'm here for you.

"That's you," the Doctor gasped. "You're down there somewhere, standing in that crowd. And you helped her. Even that far back, you were watching over her. How is that even possible?"

"Someone had to. You went away, you left us both." Remembered pain rasped through the older Master's voice. "Take a good look at her, Doctor. The original girl who waited."

Like a slap in the face, the Doctor suddenly realised who the Master had been thinking of when he was looking at seven-year-old Amy back in the garden.

"She never stopped believing that you would come back for her. But you never did."

I can't do it, the child Tejana cried, I'm too afraid. I'm going to run away, I just know it!

You won't run. Be strong, Tejana. I know you can do this.

Transfixed, the Doctor watched as his daughter hesitated. But already the Master's encouragement was turning the tide. Her head came up, her back straightened, the defeat retreating from her pale, pinched features.

You can do this. Be strong.

Turning her back to the crowd, she began to climb the stairs, the Gold Usher pacing ceremoniously beside her. The steps seemed to stretch on for eternity, but at last she reached the top. The entrance to the Sanctuary yawned like a huge mouth, waiting to consume her. Tejana raised her head high, her innate stubbornness finally coming to her rescue. The devastating moment of fear had passed, slowly dissipating as she had climbed, vanishing as though it had never been. She was the last representative of the house of Lungbarrow. No matter what happened, she knew she would not run.

Watching her, the Doctor swallowed hard, a lump of pride in his throat. His beautiful daughter, so small, so young, yet already showing the beginnings of the strong, confident woman she was destined to become.

At the very top of the stairs, she turned and looked back, out over the silent, watching crowd.

Thank you.

A single word, full of deep relief and gratitude, resonating through the psychic link. A word not meant for her father, gazing across time at a scene he had never been part of, but for the Master. The one who had been there for her, the one who had got her over line when she desperately needed someone.

Then she was gone, swallowed up by the darkness of the Sanctuary, moving forward into her future.

The Doctor turned to the Master, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

"I never knew."

"Why should you?" the Master returned, his voice low and gruff. "Funny, isn't it? The biggest irony in the universe. You spent all those years avoiding your responsibilities as a father. But me... I'd give anything to hold my son in my arms, just once... and I never will."

The roaring noise was building again, and the crowd of people gathered before the Sanctuary of Cold Lamentation started to shimmer and waver, as the histories of both the watching Time Lords began to regress still further.

The Master's mouth quirked sardonically. "The cracks are closing. But they can't close properly until we're on the other side. I think I'll skip the rest of the rewind. Not really much point, is there? We don't belong here any more. And she won't be safe until I'm gone."

"Master..."

But the black-dressed Time Lord had already turned away, his shoulders hunched. "Goodbye, Theta."

For a brief moment, he was silhouetted darkly against the cold white glow of the grinning crack that had opened in the hillside behind them. Then he vanished.

"Goodbye, Koschei." Despite his efforts to keep it at bay, cold fear gnawed at the Doctor's insides. He stared at the crack. It seemed to be laughing at him, mocking his every hope that this mess could still somehow all be made right again.

"You can do it, Pond," he whispered. "I trust you."

Either way, he thought, he wasn't going to go quietly into the night. The Master was right, there was no point in continuing the rewind. He'd done all he could do. And besides, he hated repeats.

A wild, youthful grin crossed his face. No, if he had to go, he would do it the way he had done all his life. Running.

"Wait for me, Kos!" he shouted. Then, taking three steps back to give himself plenty of room, he sprinted towards the blazing crack as fast as he could, allowing the ice-cold white light to swallow him whole.

"GERONIMO!"