Another chapter, but now we head to Gallifrey. I did some research on what kind of glasses Matt Smith wears. Use Google Images and you'll find the image I used. Er, first page of results, last row, last image, as of today. I hope I described them right. Well, at least you'll see what I meant. Shutting up, now.

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Chapter 8

Quietly, the Doctor closed the book he was reading, took off the dark, thin, slightly-rounded reading glasses, and placed them both on the night table. Beside him, River stirred at his small motions.

"Sweetie?"

Turning off the lamp, he smiled as he slid down under the covers. "It's ok, just putting the book down."

She rolled back over. The copper-tinted moon was a crescent outside the window, yielding just enough light to see her lithe frame, tucked under Gallifreyan-accented sheets. A soft breeze blew in the scent of flowers, blooming on the silver-leafed trees near the house. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply in, holding it, relishing the familiar aroma.

A crash downstairs broke the moment. He sighed and swung out of the bed.

"What's wrong?"

"Probably one of the grandkids in the kitchen again," he said, grabbing a housecoat with swirly writing on it. "I'll tend to it."

He made his way out of the bedroom, past other rooms, the doors sealed firmly shut. Confused, he cautiously stepped into the kitchen.

There, standing there just as confused as he was, were two humanoids. Humans, probably, from their 21st century style clothing. One was a red-headed woman; the other, a sandy-haired man with a Roman profile. But how did two humans get into the Presidential home?

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Doctor?" asked the woman. "It's us. Amy? Rory?"

He shook his head. "I don't know you."

She reeled back as if he'd slapped her. "Yes, you do! We travel with you, in your TARDIS!" Her Scottish brogue was heavy with indignation.

"Doctor?" said the man quietly. "It's us. Mr. and Mrs. Pond? Rory the Roman? Cracks in time? Any of that ring a bell?"

He straightened up. "I am the Doctor, Lord President of Gallifrey. And you are in my home."

Two guards appeared from behind him, in the traditional garb of Time Lord soldiers. One saluted him.

"Take these two out of my sight. I don't know how they were brought to Gallifrey, but they will not be leaving."

"Get your hands off me!" snapped Amy, throwing one's hands off her. But the guard was stronger than her and pinned her arms behind her back. Beside her, Rory struggled, but was unable to break the iron grip the guard had on him.

He watched with uncaring eyes as they were dragged away.

In the shadows, River smiled.

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"What's wrong with him!" exploded Amy.

They had been put into a cell, a very technologically advanced cell with an energy barrier instead of bars. There wouldn't be any breaking out of this one. Even if they had the sonic with them, it would have been as useful as a real screwdriver. And according to the watches, they had 83 minutes left.

"He's still in the fantasy," said Rory, sitting on one of the rather comfy beds. At least they treated their prisoners with a little respect. "And he's so entranced by it that he's denying reality. He fully believes he is on Gallifrey, that he's Lord President, and that we are not his friends."

"But why?" she said, flopping down beside him.

"He destroyed his own people, Amy, this whole planet, his family, his friends, all the people he grew up with," he said sadly. "Rejecting this reality means that he has to accept that he's on his own, last of the Time Lords and all that."

"You know a lot about him, don't you?" she wondered.

He smiled a bit. "I took a course in psychology to be a nurse." He took a deep breath. "Plus, in my fantasy, I was him."

"What?"

"Apparently, the machine thought my fantasy would be me as him. It was so real, I actually feel time flowing around me. I could feel the TARDIS in my head."

"Were you in his clothing?"

He said nothing, but a blush crept up his neck.

"You were! You were in tweed and braces and had that stupid bowtie on, didn't you?" She began to laugh.

"Oh, ha-ha," he muttered. "I tell you how it felt to be inside his head, and you're laughing at what I was wearing."

Amy snickered. "Tell you what, when we get back to the TARDIS, I'll see if I can find where he keeps his spare outfits. I have so got to see with my own eyes."

He really regretted telling her now as her grin turned rather sensual.

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He paced up and down in his office. The two intruders from last night were really bothering him. They had seemed genuinely concerned for him and shocked when he didn't reciprocate.

The doors opening made him stop his pacing.

"There you are!" said the Master. It was so hard to think of him as Koschei, why was that? "I heard about last night."

The Doctor chuckled lightly, playing with a snow globe (doubling as a paperweight) version of the Citadel. "I think the whole planet's heard by now. You are quite the gossiper, aren't you?" He peeked at the other Time Lord through the liquid.

The Master scowled at him, his face looking like a carnival mirror. "I've been talking to security, blame them. It was a rather large security breach. Two humans appear out of nowhere, into your home, of all places, and you're not worried?"

The Doctor put the snow globe back down on the desk. "Course I'm worried, but if I'm visibly worried, what would that do, hmm? Now relax, I've got things under control."

The Master grumbled, but didn't argue. On his way out, he gave Amy and Rory, accompanied by guards, a disapproving look before sweeping away.

"In here," one of the guards instructed. "And don't touch anything."

"Hey, just because I'm human, doesn't mean I'm stupid," said Amy.

The other guard snorted, shoving Rory behind Amy into the room.

The office was very formal. Bookshelves, loaded down with, what else, books, as well as other items of varying intricacy. Framed pictures of Time Lords were hung around in various spots. A merry fire crackled in the fireplace.

"Well."

In a fancy chair, behind an even fancier desk, sat the Doctor. He was dressed in orange robes, with swirls of alien writing on them. A nearby pedestal held an odd hat that presumably matched the ridiculous outfit.

"Well, what?" said Amy bluntly.

He laced his fingers on the desk. "For starters, who are you two? Then, how did you get past the transduction barriers onto Gallifrey?"

Warily, Amy sat down in one of the chairs. Not meant to be comfy, Rory noted, wincing as he sat down.

"We told you. I'm Amy, he's Rory. We're the Ponds. We're from 21st century Leadworth, on Earth. We travel with you in your TARDIS."

"Impossible, I've never travelled off-planet."

"Doctor, please listen." Amy was practically begging. "We've got 70 minutes until we're all dead. This isn't real, this planet, the people here, they aren't real."

"Of course they're real, what else would they be?"

"They'd be dead." Rory's voice was cold, factual. "There was a war here, against the Daleks. The only way the universe could survive was both species had to be destroyed."

"No," said the Doctor, shaking his head.

"You were the one that did it! When the Daleks came to Gallifrey and the Time Lords wanted to destroy creation to save themselves, you were the one that triggered the device that blew both Time Lords and Daleks out of existence!"

"NO!" the Doctor bellowed, slamming his hands on the desk. The loud bang brought the guards running.

"Lord President?"

"I'm…I'm fine," he muttered, rubbing his head. "I've just got a bit of a headache."

"That's your memories trying to fight their way out," said Amy. "The machine we're in, it tried to suppress our memories, but it couldn't, not all the way, because it was working so hard on you."

"Guards, take them."

"Doctor, you've got to listen!" Rory shouted, struggling with the guard. He thought quickly. "Your fingers, they're burned, aren't they?"

With a frown, the Doctor looked at his fingers. "I must've accidentally burned them on my tea cup earlier."

Frustrated, Rory tried another tactic. "Theta! Theta Sigma!"

The Doctor froze. "How do you know my old nickname?"

"Nickname?" asked Amy as the guard's grip held her firmly. "What, they name their kids after letters of the Greek alphabet?"

"I found your name on a book on board the TARDIS. It had loads of pictures, of what you looked like in your past lives, all the people you travelled with."

"I told you, I've never–"

"Susan, Ian, Barbara, Jamie, Victoria, Zoe, Liz, Jo, the Brigadier, Benton and Yates, Sarah Jane, Leela, Romana, K9–"

"Stop. Just stop." He was rubbing his temples, a grimace on his face. The guards began to fade away.

"Tegan, Nyssa, Turlough, Adric, Peri, Melanie, Ace, Grace, Chang–"

The Doctor looked closer to pulling out his own hair. "I'm warning you now, stop."

"Rose, Jackie, Mickey, Jack, Martha, Donna, Jenny, Wilf–"

"I said, STOP!" The pain was getting harder to bear. The guards finally faded away.

Amy caught on. "And what of us, Doctor? What about my daughter, Melody?"

"What of her?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"She grew up, took the name River Song so she wouldn't accidentally reveal herself too early to us."

"Impossible, River Song is a full Time Lord, here on Gallifrey." He slumped back into his chair.

"You know here?" asked Amy.

"Of course I do. River Song is my wife."

"You rang, Sweetie?"

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If things aren't complicated enough, River's here. Cause Doctor Who isn't Doctor Who unless there's some hesitation about what comes next.