Author's Note: Thanks to MayFairy, Theta'sWorstNightmare, SawManiac211 and Imorgen for reviewing the previous chapter, I appreciate it very much. Here's today's installment:

CHAPTER FOUR

Harold Saxon looked out over his attentive audience, a pleasant, enthusiastic expression on his face as he spoke the bland, meaningless words his campaign speech-writer had so laboriously written for him. Inwardly, concealed behind his carefully cultivated mask, the Master sneered at the blatant hypocrisy of the people in the room.

Look at them, he thought disdainfully. All the parasites, all the disgusting, stupid, over-fed, waste-of-space apes!

Each one of these people had spent exorbitant amounts of money to be here, the women dressed in designer fashions and dripping with precious jewels, the men sipping at their glasses of expensive brandy. All of them pretending to care about providing for the homeless, when really what they cared about was being seen at one of the most exclusive political events of the year. They were all so very eager to jump on the Saxon bandwagon, reaching out with greedy hands to snatch some of his reflected glory. Even as he talked about leading Britain into a new golden age of prosperity, he entertained himself by imagining what these vain, pathetic humans would look like in a few short days, grovelling at his feet where they belonged, dressed in rags, slaving day and night to build his fleet of warships.

They watched him with wide, entranced eyes, mesmerised by every word he said. It didn't matter that most of it didn't even make sense. It didn't matter that he had no policies, no real solutions to offer to their problems. The Archangel Network took care of that. He could have been reciting a shopping list for all they cared. Outside, he could faintly hear the mob screaming his name in the street, desperate for just a glimpse of him.

His smile widened. He was close now, so very close. Soon everything he had ever wanted would be within his grasp. And who would ever have thought that the Doctor's beloved humans would be the perfect tool for achieving the Master's ultimate victory? The irony of it was just too perfect.

Then, without warning, he felt it, and his body tensed in instant reaction. Someone here was shielding their mind. It was subtle and quiet and very, very expert. Ordinarily, he might not have noticed it at all. However, in the sea of wide-open human consciousness created by the Archangel Network it was different enough to stand out like a beacon. He had come across some strong-minded humans who were resistant to the hypnotic rhythm silently infiltrating their planet, but nothing to this degree. No, there were only two possible people, apart from himself, who would be here on Earth and shielding like that. But which one was it? Without missing a beat in the delivery of his speech, he pressed gently against the shielding with his mind, careful not to do anything to alert his target, while still mentally tasting the flavour of the other Time Lord. Ahhh...a distinct impression of honeysuckle. He drew in a deep, luxuriant breath, almost as if he could physically smell the wild, sweet, unique scent.

It was Tejana, without a doubt, no-one else felt quite like that. She was here somewhere, in this room. He thought of her as he had seen her just the night before, at the Lazarus reception. Dressed in her midnight blue gown, her hair piled high on her head, with just a few loose curls drifting deliciously down to caress her bare, white shoulders. He had never seen her dressed quite like that before, and he had to admit, he had been both surprised and fascinated. She had been beautiful enough that he had hardly been able to take his eyes off her, despite his own agenda for the evening. Hidden in the shadows, careful not to reveal his presence, he had watched her meet up with the Doctor at the reception as if she hadn't seen her father for quite some time and had not been expecting to bump into him. That had also surprised the Master. He hadn't realised they had been living separately before they ended up on Malcaissaro. He couldn't help wondering what had caused that. Some sort of breach? Some sort of argument? Something he might be able to use to drive a wedge between them? It was an interesting thought. Martha Jones had been with the Doctor, but there was no sign of Captain Freak. Apparently they had yet to pick him up somewhere before the four of them came to meet Professor Yana at the end of the Universe.

Still smiling and talking, giving no outward sign of his preoccupation, he slowly and deliberately scanned the room, searching for the slender figure with the long, dark hair. Where was she? And how had he missed her? At first glance, he could see no sign of her in the ballroom. She definitely wasn't sitting at any of the tables. But he knew he wasn't mistaken. She was there somewhere, he just had to find her. Narrowing his focus, he used his mind to search instead of his eyes, trying to identify the source of the shielding.

At last, his attention was caught and held by a small, fragile figure standing inconspicuously amongst the staff at the back of the room, all his senses locking on to her like a heat-seeking missile. This girl looked nothing like the dark-haired Tejana he had seen the night before or even back on Malcaissaro. She was not much more than five feet tall, with long, loose, copper-coloured hair flowing down her back, wearing jeans and a brown leather jacket. But he knew it was her, all the same. Somewhere along the line, she had regenerated. He shifted his gaze casually away from her, as if he hadn't noticed her, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of it all. Why had she changed? Had she been injured by the Futurekind after all? And why was she here on her own – where was the Doctor? Had something happened to him? Or was this all part of some sort of elaborate trap? Somehow, he had to find out. His plan could very well depend upon it.

Maintaining his polished facade as the consummate politician, he brought his speech to a close. All over the room, people leapt to their feet to give him a standing ovation. Graciously, he inclined his head, acknowledging the storm of applause with a charming smile as he sat back down in his seat, one hand reaching out to fondly hold Lucy's, just like the loving couple they were supposed to be. But he never once lost sight of the small, copper-haired figure at the back of the room, observing her intently like a snake about to strike, alert and ready to act depending on what she chose to do next. Sure enough, he saw her beginning to quietly back away, using the noise and confusion to cover her attempted retreat from the room.

Oh no, you don't, little girl! he thought coldly. With a sharp gesture of his hand, he summoned to his side a nearby blonde woman dressed in a tailored, black suit. This was Miss Elinore Dexter, his Head of Security. Despite her attractive appearance, she was one of the most ruthless and emotionless human beings he had ever met, both characteristics which suited his needs perfectly. Ignoring Lucy's querying glance, he whispered a few curt and concise instructions in Dexter's ear.

"Yes, Sir," the woman replied before hurrying off to do his bidding.

With a contented smile at Lucy, he leaned back in his chair and waited, looking out over the applauding crowd and accepting all the human adulation as his rightful due.

It seemed this was going to be an interesting day after all.

Tejana could not have repeated one single word of Harold Saxon's speech. The words flowed over her, around her and past her, like a river, unnoticed and unremarked, as she drank in the sound of his voice. All she could think of was that same voice telling her how much he wanted her, how much he loved her, how he would never, ever let her go. My beautiful Ana...my haven, my home. She watched him standing there, so handsome and attractive in his beautifully-cut suit and helplessly remembered how his body had felt on hers, hard and hot and hungry, his mouth searching and demanding, so powerful and possessive, determined to own her in every way. Her Master. Anguish arced through her. He looked so vital, so alive, so real. Her hand went to her belly, cradling his child as it nestled deep inside her. She had told herself it would help, seeing him again, just one more time. Somehow she had really believed it would bring her some peace. But she knew now that she had lied to herself. She didn't just want to see him. She wanted to kiss him, to touch him, to hold him and never let him go. She wanted her child to know his father. She wanted to change everything that had happened, bring him back to her, make it right.

For the first time since his death on Mnemosyne, her numbing pain began to give way to something else. Rage, licking along her veins like tiny, scorching flames. Hot, blinding fury at the Universe for taking him away from her yet again. How many times and in how many ways did she have to lose him? She had always played by the rules, always tried to do the right thing, just as her father had taught her. And where had it got her? Here, in this place, drowning in sorrow as she looked at the man she loved but could no longer have. Had the Master been right all along? Did the nice guys always, always finish last?

Oh gods, Koschei, why? WHY?

Struggling for self-control, she forced back the grief-stricken scream that was building in her throat, her fists clenched tightly by her sides. For one tiny moment, as if he had heard her silent cry, his eyes seemed to seek hers across the crowded room. Both her hearts stood still, her muscles tense, the temptation to run to him almost irrefusable. But then his gaze moved on without stopping and she drew in a deep, ragged, hurtful breath. She had to get out of here. She just couldn't trust herself to stay - the anger, the need, the pain and the longing were far too great.

His speech had finished now. The audience was rising to its feet, applauding wildly, and he was smiling, so confident, so sure. She took one last look at him, her eyes filmed with tears as she tried to remember everything about him, engraving this final sight of him on to her hearts where it could never fade, never be lost, never die...

Goodbye, Koschei. I love you.

Then she turned away, determined to make her way back to the TARDIS as quickly as she could, before her resolve broke and she forgot her responsibilities as a Time Lord and did something really, really stupid.

But before she could reach the ballroom door, she suddenly found her way blocked by two of the black-clad guards.

"I'm afraid you'll have to accompany us, Miss," one of them said briefly. "Mr Saxon would like a word."

Eyes widening in startled alarm and disbelief, Tejana whirled instinctively and glanced back towards the dais. This time there was no doubt that he was looking straight at her and that he was fully aware of exactly who she was. Still smiling, he gave her a deliberate and provocative wink, before turning back to shake hands genially with the fat man who had introduced him earlier.

"Oh, crap," she whispered, feeling the guard's hand closing on her upper arm like an inescapable vice as he began to lead her away.