Time is the Father of Truth

[The First Doctor]

Gallifrey.
The Shining City.
Within the Halls of Eileithyia.
Half an hour after the events of The Initiation Ceremony.
Four years before the beginning of the Last Great Time War.

He stormed through the Halls of Eileithyia, his face a mask of fury. When he'd offered to help the Doctor out, when he'd taken the Hunter and Kyra back into Gallifrey's past, he'd...

He didn't know what he'd expected. He knew he hadn't expected what he'd learned. And the worst part - the part that fueled his rage - was that he had been unable to do anything about it. It was too dangerous, tampering with Real Time, even for him.

"Can I... help you?"

He stopped, and glared at the white-robed figure. It was one of the acolytes, looking at him like he was a bug.

To be fair, he did look out of place. He was a squat figure, in heavy work boots and peacoat and black stocking cap, stomping through the white marble ways of the Halls. But he wasn't in a mood to be fair.

"Yeah," he answered, "Yeah, yeh can. Yeh can take me t' see the Specialist. Oi've business what concerns her."

"I hardly think that..." the acolyte began to respond, a note of condescending superiority in his voice.

The Meddler's ham-like fists closed in the front of the acolyte's robes, and he jerked the smug man close. "Oi don' care what yeh think," he snarled, "Oi've business w' her, an' it be none o' yehr concern, an Oi don' care what yeh think."

He released the man suddenly. "Now scarper. An' tell the Specialist that... that the Grandfather Paradox is here to see her."

[Seren Ash]

The Specialist had mulled over her encounter with someone, since the event had happened. She didn't have any particular sector that she worked in. Due to her blood, and her history, she was a fluid being. She had existed for well over thirteen hundred years now, and would continue to exist, as far as she knew, beyond this war. Her perception of time transcended any other of the Time Lords. It was a gift, she was glad to behold. A gift she was glad to use.

Her eyes turned over towards the halls she was walking. She felt an odd flux in time, and her pale eyes stared down at the acolyte that had come rushing up to her. He blathered something about Grandfather Paradox, but the tall woman didn't need the Acolyte to tell her where she needed to go. She walked down the halls, in a slow stride, her pale hair loose today. She wore her robes, ones different then the others. The ones that marked her as the specialist. Pure white robes, with silver and gold trim. The sign of her house, emblazoned on the back of them.

The black that threaded through all of the outfit, gave her a flowing schism look. That was the point of her robes, of her existence. She was the embodiment of the Schism, in many ways. She had known there was tampering done with some of the children, but she really couldn't do anything about it. She approached the man, that looked rather peeved at this moment. "Hello, Meddler." She said softly as she felt her lips quirk up. Oh it took a lot of work with the Schism to figure this one out, but it was alright with her.

"What do I owe this pleasure too?"

[The First Doctor]

The Meddler came to a stop. To conventional senses. To senses tuned to the rhythms of the Vortex, he still stopped. And echoes - displaced fragments of maybes and could-haves and almosts - kept walking. Or leaned against the wall. Or ran. Or started to speak.

Time fractured around him, even on Gallifrey, leaving contrails of paradox in his wake.

"What do I owe this pleasure to?" the Specialist asked.

He forced a smile (frowned/laughed/ignored her/raged), trying to calm his racing thoughts. And then he bowed, formally. It should have been comic. It should have looked like an orang-utan trying to figure out which fork to use at a banquet. But it wasn't. Underneath the crude facade, he was - had been - a Time Lord.

What he was now was open to debate.

"G'day, Specialist," he said as he doffed his cap, revealing a bristly shock of reddish hair. "Oi'm glad that yeh could spare me some o' yehr time, an' may Oi jus' say yehr as lovely as yeh were eight hunnerd years ago?"

He straightened up, voice turning serious. "At that time, yeh were willin' to aid me wit' investigatin' a wee matter o' some import to a, well, to a friend o' mine." He paused to consider his words. "Well, mebbe an acquaintance o' mine - we ain't really been friends fer centuries, but we get on better now that Oi've stopped tryin' to kill 'im. But Oi'm wanderin', ain't Oi?"

His eyes grew hard. "While Oi was there, Oi learned sommat. Sommat e'en Oi wouldn't try'n mess wit', on account o' how ingrained it is in Gallifrey's time line. But it's terrible, an' it involves the High Council, an' me an me classmates from eight hunnerd years ago. An' Oi need help, if Oi'm gonna bring down the ones that did it to us. An' Oi figgered yeh might be willin' to aid me again."

[Seren Ash]

The specialist crossed her arms over her chest, as she watched the Timelord tripping all over himself. She grinned softly, and tilted her head to the side. Her eyes were watching him, a soft look in the tall woman's eyes. She had a rather softness to her at the minute. Despite the sad news that she had once again had lost a child. She had lost another lover as well. Perhaps she should just stop trying.

"G'day, Specialist," he said as he doffed his cap, revealing a bristly shock of reddish hair. "Oi'm glad that yeh could spare me some o' yehr time, an' may Oi jus' say yehr as lovely as yeh were eight hunnerd years ago?"

"Thank you for the flattery, but I've had two regenerations since then, surely I am not quite what you remember." She said this with a teasing smile. But they both knew, anyone that knew of the Specialist, knew that whenever she regenerated her hair was either a few shades lighter, or darker, and her eyes always seemed to remain nearly the same.


He straightened up, voice turning serious. "At that time, yeh were willin' to aid me wit' investigatin' a wee matter o' some import to a, well, to a friend o' mine." He paused to consider his words. "Well, mebbe an acquaintance o' mine - we ain't really been friends fer centuries, but we get on better now that Oi've stopped tryin' to kill 'im. But Oi'm wanderin', ain't Oi?"

"I see, and what is it possibly, that this acquaintance could have needed? Please, feel free to speak openly to me. We both know secrets of each other." She said with a knowing smile, her head tilted to the side as she arched a brow, and leaned against the wall. She was rather quite, and rather calm.

His eyes grew hard. "While Oi was there, Oi learned sommat. Sommat e'en Oi wouldn't try'n mess wit', on account o' how ingrained it is in Gallifrey's time line. But it's terrible, an' it involves the High Council, an' me an me classmates from eight hunnerd years ago. An' Oi need help, if Oi'm gonna bring down the ones that did it to us. An' Oi figgered yeh might be willin' to aid me again."

That stopped her, she remembered a lot of the times she and the Meddler had met. The most important one was right before an initiation group. "What are you talking about, who had done what? What happened." She said as her back straightened, darkness swirling in the eyes of the Specialist. The only one that could have been damaged, was the children. These were her children, the children of Gallifrey.

[The First Doctor]

"Thank you for the flattery, but I've had two regenerations since then, surely I am not quite what you remember." She said this with a teasing smile.

"Yeah, well, if'n yeh wanna get all technical about it," he grinned, "Oi've had two me ainself since we met last." A pause. "In yehr timeline, that is. It's been about, oh, 'bout half an hour fer me."

He stuffed his cap into one of his pockets, scratched his head, and explained what had brought him here.

"What are you talking about, who had done what? What happened." She said as her back straightened, darkness swirling in the eyes of the Specialist.

"The Council," he said, angrily. "Part o' 'em, anyhow. Emmehujidat an' his lick-spittles Apollonilisaimistiri an' Jestelavistisimiril fer certain. Mebbe Xandavier as well."

He almost spat, then stopped as he remembered where he was. "An' what happened?" His fists clenched. "Oi dunno, not fer certain. Some kinda meme. Supposed to make us afraid. Afraid o', o', o' the unknown. O' the alien, the different."

The Meddler took a few deep breaths. "It worked, too. On most o' 'em. But there were ten o' us, ten what had different reactions to what they did."

[Seren Ash]

The Specialist was darker, her whole aura seemed to change. She reached out, resting a hand on The Meddler's arm. That group, had so many bright minds. One of them was going to be the greatest Historian, and one she knew was destined to rule one day. Another she knew would be the greatest aid the universe had ever seen. Unfortunately now, she realized that someone had messed with her children.

"Speak to me openly about this. All of your words are private with me." She said softly, her eyes closing for a moment as she opened her mind to him. This would probably be safer, I would assume? She asked him quietly as she cocked her head to the side. She was definitely going to talk to him about this. Her children, someone had messed with HER children. More then that, she had just miscarried and this was the worst time for her to have found out. At least the worst time for her enemies.

She had a darker air around her, an almost killing one. It was odd to see how the tall woman could change into a warrior at the slightest provocation. At least the slightest affront to HER children. Let me guess, The Master - The Doctor - The Rani, are part of it? I have noticed some oddities with them. Tell me the rest of it, I had to save almost fifteen children during that Initiation, I almost lost The Archivist.

[The First Doctor]

The Specialist rested her hand on his arm. "Speak to me openly about this. All of your words are private with me."

Her eyes closed, and he became aware of a distant... buzzing, was the best way to describe it. He could tell she was trying to communicate with him, but the message mostly lost as it scattered through his fractured noosphere, each and every maybe and might-have-been receiving bits and pieces of the message.

T i u p l e s ? he heard. L t e e T s h e ? I a e t d o w . T l f d t n r .

"Uhm," the Meddler said, embarrassed. "Uh, Oi, that is, Oi can't actually hear yeh like that. An' Oi don't believe Oi can make meself heard, neither. Been that way fer, oh, 'bout a hunnerd an' twenty years now."

[Seren Ash]

The Specialist frowned harshly as she held on to his arm. "Alright, fine, follow me." She said as she walked towards the hallway to the right. She pulled him after her, her long strides eating up distance rather quickly. She pulled him into a private room, and pressed the keycode in. She growled softly as she opened the door and closed it quickly. She was going to be dang certain that she talked to him.

"Alright, what I said was : The Master - The Doctor - The Rani, are part of it? I have noticed some oddities with them. Tell me the rest of it, I had to save almost fifteen children during that Initiation, I almost lost The Archivist." She stated as she stared at him. Her hands moving on the panel on the wall, making sure there conversation really was private. The woman started pacing now, her arms folded behind her back. The frown deepening.

"I'll kill them, I'll kill the council members that did this to my children!" She snapped as she whirled around on him. Her face paled a little as she pressed a hand towards her gut and curled up a little. Her breath rushing from her as she winced. She had miscarried, but they had been unable to completely do the process properly. So she was going through pains periodically.

[The First Doctor]

"Alright, fine, follow me," she said, an exasperated tone in her voice. Without waiting to see if he would - he would have, of course, but she didn't wait (An' would Oi 'ave? he asked himself with a chuckle) - she half led, half marched him through the halls to her offices.

The Meddler was mildly surprised to feel a small thrill of fear ripple through him. It had been more than eight hundred years since his Initiation, more than eight hundred years since the first time he had me the Specialist in his personal timeline, and still the foolish childhood dread reared itself.

"You don't know? If you fail, the Specialist takes you away."

"She only comes for the crazy ones."

"If you're bad, the Specialist will get you."

Childhood lore, passed from kid to kid to kid without adult intervention. Childish fear of the unknown, making a monster out of a woman that only wanted to help. He knew the dread was ridiculous, but he felt it still, just a little.

If you fail, the Specialist takes you away.

"Alright, what I said was : The Master - The Doctor - The Rani, are part of it? I have noticed some oddities with them. Tell me the rest of it, I had to save almost fifteen children during that Initiation, I almost lost The Archivist." She stated as she stared at him. Her hands moving on the panel on the wall, making sure there conversation really was private. The woman started pacing now, her arms folded behind her back. The frown deepening.

"Ten o' us," he agreed. "Like yeh said, the Doctor an' the Master. The Rani. The Timekeeper an' the Mystic - the two what the Celestial Toymaker killed. The War Chief. The Watcher an' the Architect. An' the Artificer." He paused, and swallowed hard. "An' me."

"Ten o' us," he repeated, voice soft and furious.

"I'll kill them, I'll kill the council members that did this to my children!" She snapped as she whirled around on him. Her face paled a little as she pressed a hand towards her gut and curled up a little. Her breath rushing from her as she winced. She had miscarried, but they had been unable to completely do the process properly. So she was going through pains periodically.

He'd spent most of his life alone, and he'd found that solitude agreed with him. For the most part. But that solitude had left his social skills... lacking. He rose, wanting to do something to help the pain and anger in her face, then stopped. He had no idea what to do.

So he settled for producing a small chip of computronium. "What Oi managed to find out fer sure, Oi've got on here," he said, lamely. "Oi'll help yeh kill 'em, but we'll need help. We'll need more solid proof, or yeh'll face discorporation."

He looked away. "Ten o' us. Oi dunno what we coulda been, but they made monsters outa us." He looked back at her, eyes hard. "Ten kids, hand-crafted by the Council into the worst criminals Gallifrey's ever known." His fists clenched, again. "An' Oi wanna know why, an' Oi want all Gallifrey to know. An then Oi want 'em to pay."

[The First Doctor]

The Offices of the Lord Castellan

Apollonilisaimistiri, current holder of the office of the Lord Castellan, sat in his chair and idly sucked at a ripe ploin, enjoying the taste of the juices and the feel of the pulp on his tongue. He knew that his willingness to indulge in alien, unprocessed foods scandalized his peers. But, his entire life had been a study in scandalizing the society of the Time Lords. Immortality, he believed, was wasted on the passionless and uninterested.

A signal light began to blink on his desk. Frowning, he replaced the fruit in a bowl of crystal and dried his fingers on a cloth of fine silk. "Show me," he said, his voice cultured and exquisite.

A display sprang to life, showing a scene near the Halls of Eileithyia. He smiled for a brief moment, remembering his pleasurable pursuit of the Specialist from a few centuries back. He's had no success, not in any carnal fashion, but the thrill of the chase was at least as interesting as the results. But why was the display showing him...?

And then he saw. A security probe had spotted a face on one of the entrants. The face of someone the Office of the Castellan had on permanent orders for arrest. One of the ten vilest criminals to disgrace the name of "Time Lord".

The Meddler. Entering the Halls of Eileithyia as if he owned them.

He started to reach for his communication disk, and halted. His eyes darted to the displayed features of the Meddler once more. It can't be... he thought in horror, his mind recalling a memory more than eight centuries gone. A memory of a great thug, rifling his offices, manhandling him.

The Meddler, somehow, had been that man. And that meant...

He grasped the disk. "Captain," he said without preamble. "One of the Deca has been seen at the Halls of Eileithyia. He is confirmed as the Meddler. Take a platoon, use all necessary force and all possible discretion, and capture him if possible. He may be there to threaten the Specialist."

The Captain sucked in his breath in horror. "Do you think so?"

"I can think of no other reason for his presence in those sacred halls. Subdue him if you can. But do not compromise the safety of the Specialist or the Halls. If you are able to capture him, he is to be brought to me. Incommunicado. Do you understand?"

"My lord, yes."

"Then go."

[Seren Ash]

They thought she never knew, but she knew everything. Her heart ached with the things the children said in private. Her eyes closed for a moment as she shook her head. She remembered when she had taken them for their Initiation, well taken them from it. The ones that needed her help. There was the ten he spoked up, and the five that were almost destroyed. Some had sideeffects that were never expected. Several of them had gifts that hadn't been on Gallifrey in a long time. For instance, the Meddler was quite like herself. She stopped and stared at him. "I know there was Ten of you, but I had to save nearly fifteen students, that Initiation. You weren't the only ones messed with, I think." She said as she straightened her back. Her eyes closed as she took a long breath.

"Where there is weapons, there must always be knowledge behind it." She said softly as she reached out for the chip. Her fingers wrapped around it as a tingling sense of the space time continium rushed through her. Tears jumping to her eyes. "I have a question, to ask you Meddler. When this place is gone, when I'm gone and my position is gone. I want you to draw my essence from the Schism, and place it in the Matrix." She said softly as she stretched out her back, a small smile spreading across her featuers as she watched him. "That way I can guard all of you, if something does happen to this planet." She wasn't stupid, she knew about the war coming.

The end of it all, she more then anyone knew exactly what was going to happen. She stopped for a moment as she put a hand on his cheek, and smiled at him softly. Stopping for a moment as she locked her office door and pulled out a sonic device. She had heard something, and she was a lot more paranoid then they realized it. She pointed the sonic device at the cameras stationed in her office, so that visiuals were cut off. She could cut off the sounds of her office, never the visuals. Something they said was to cover her safety. Not that she would ever believe that.

There was snapping and popping sounds as one camera after another exploded. "I'm sorry Meddler, but I'm getting a sense of something wrong. We Need to go." She said softly as she walked over to a Statue in her room, she slowly pressed down the imprint on the plate, and the statue slid back to reveal stairs.

[The First Doctor]

She stopped and stared at him. "I know there was Ten of you, but I had to save nearly fifteen students, that Initiation. You weren't the only ones messed with, I think." She said as she straightened her back. Her eyes closed as she took a long breath.

"No," he agreed. "No, we weren't. They turned their meme virus loose on all o' us, an' it had... side effects. But the ten o' us, if'n Oi read that chip right..."

He swallowed. "They picked us, 'cause o' some Pythian doggerel. Y'ken the Sisterhood o' the Sacred Flame, right? The files reference some prophecy o' theirs."

He recited from memory.
"Ten shall rise, and all shall fall. Ten shall doom, and save us all."
"An Enemy rises, from deeds of our own. Implacable hatred for the Child of the Throne."
"Gallifrey's dawn shall be its death."
"A single moment will be its last breath."
"Ten face the end at the setting of the sun. Ten face the night, 'till all are one."
"And the lonely god will preside over the end of days."

He shook his head. "Typical Pythian gibberish. But they took it seriously. An', Oi think, they tried to make us the 'ten' from that prophecy, somehow. They wanted to make us into weapons." He shrugged. "An' the others? Collateral damage, mebbe. Or backups. Oi dunno."

"Where there is weapons, there must always be knowledge behind it." She said softly as she reached out for the chip. Tears jumping to her eyes. "I have a question, to ask you Meddler."

"Oi'll answer it, if'n Oi can," he said, seriously.

"When this place is gone, when I'm gone and my position is gone. I want you to draw my essence from the Schism, and place it in the Matrix." She said softly as she stretched out her back, a small smile spreading across her features as she watched him. "That way I can guard all of you, if something does happen to this planet."

He started to protest, to insist that her request was absurd. Gallifrey was... Gallifrey. Like the others, the ones that had survived to adulthood, he'd abandoned her long ago and taken his own path. But Gallifrey would always be there, right?

And then he remembered the probability soundings he'd taken along the Prime Anchor Lines, and the reason he'd returned to Gallifrey. "A conflict, 99% probability," he muttered. "A time war, 95% probability. The Prime Anchor Lines tangle and knot within three years, and can't be followed any further."

He shuddered, and his eyes began to burn with the swirling non-light of the Vortex as he remembered the reams of carefully calligraphied calculations heaped in his museum. The emotional portion of him, the one that wanted to be held and comforted and told he was wrong and everything would be all right, tried to shy away. But the rest of him, the deep core of his being that danced and writhed and resonated to the mad, atonal rhythms of the Vortex, remorselessly made the connections between the 'Pythian doggerel', his own calculations, and the Specialist's questions.

He looked up at the Specialist, his eyes transformed into twin replicas of the Untempered Schism. "The lines are too tangled," he said, distantly and helplessly, his accent gone. "There is a Singularity. I can't accurately project the outcome." He went quiet for a long moment, gazing deep within, deep into the Vortex. "But there is nothing on the other side."

Eyes still burning, he considered her question now. Conventional biodatic science said her request was impossible. "I'll do it," he said, distantly. "If it comes to that, I'll do it."

The end of it all, she more then anyone knew exactly what was going to happen. She stopped for a moment as she put a hand on his cheek, and smiled at him softly.

Lost in his trance, he smiled distantly at her touch. "No worries," he said, as if he were answering a question. "It's me their after, an' Oi've put yeh in danger bein' here. Yeh're right. We should go."

Stopping for a moment as she locked her office door and pulled out a sonic device. She had heard something, and she was a lot more paranoid then they realized it. She pointed the sonic device at the cameras stationed in her office, so that visiuals were cut off. She could cut off the sounds of her office, never the visuals. Something they said was to cover her safety. Not that she would ever believe that.

There was snapping and popping sounds as one camera after another exploded. "I'm sorry Meddler, but I'm getting a sense of something wrong. We Need to go."

He stood up, the burning in his eyes beginning to fade. "A secret passage, eh? Nice. Where's it lead?"

She slowly pressed down the imprint on the plate, and the statue slid back to reveal stairs.

[The First Doctor]

Captain Ramachulainn ignored the stares from the passers-by, as he led thirty members of the Chancellery Guard - each one armed and armored - up the long marble stairs of the Halls of Eileithyia. He tried to ignore his own nerves as well. He kept repeating "the Specialist is in danger, the Specialist is in danger" to himself as a mantra.

It was the only way he could bring himself to take this action. Gallifrey had long ago abandoned religion, but the Halls were sacred. They were the home of the Looms, the primary source of new life on the Homeworld. They were where the children who failed the Initiation were cared for, rehabilitated, restored.

For the Chancellery Guard to enter it, armed and armored, was as close to blasphemy as the mind of a Time Lord could conceive.

"One of the Deca," he repeated. "The Meddler. The Specialist is in danger."

He had to stand firm. He knew his men were appalled at their orders, and only his own confidence that this was right, was necessary, moved them to obey.

"The Specialist is in danger."

Two robed acolytes stood at the top of the stairs, staves held horizontally before them, denying the Guard access to the doors. "Go no further," one of them said. "This is a place of life and of healing. It is no place for weapons."

Captain Ramachulainn halted a mere three steps from the staves, and produced a scroll. "I act on orders from the Lord Castellan himself."

"It matters not," the second acolyte answered. "By the most ancient of traditions, traditions handed down from Rassilon himself, the Keeper of the Halls answers only to the High Council in full session. You have no authority here, Captain. The Lord Castellan has no authority here. These are the Halls of Eileithyia. You and your Guard will not be permitted entry, not while you are garbed for war."

The Captain took a deep breath. "So we are to be denied entry, while one of the Deca may enter freely?"

Both acolytes drew shocked breaths, horror written on their faces.

"The..." the Captain struggled for an appropriate word. "The monster known as the Meddler was observed to enter the Halls, less than half an hour ago. We do not know why, but we know what sort of being he is."

All Gallifrey did. All Gallifrey knew of the crimes of the Deca. Interference in alien cultures. Consorting with - or enslaving, or collaborating with - lesser species. Altering the Anchor Lines of Time. And even, on a few occasions, attempting to overthrow the Lord President and the High Council.

"I submit to you," Captain Ramachulainn said in a level, remorseless voice, "that our presence here is not a violation of the ancient tradition of the sanctity of the Halls. It is an attempt to preserve their sanctity, by capturing the Meddler before he is able to harm them or the Specialist."

The acolytes stood motionless for an instant, conferring telepathically. "There is wisdom in your words, and we will abide in wisdom." They stood aside. "Be aware of the awesome trust we place in your hands, Captain. Preserve the sanctity of the Halls of Eileithyia."

The Guard began to pass, the Captain flanked by the two acolytes. "Show us the icon of the Meddler, that we may assist in the search."

The Captain showed them, and the second acolyte staggered. "By the Loom of Rassilon," he breathed. "The Meddler is, even now, in the chambers of the Specialist."

"What?" snapped Captain Ramachulainn, terror written across his face. "How can this be?"

"Follow me!" the acolyte urged, "Hurry! May the Anchor Lines grant that we are not too late!"

The Guard broke into a doubletime, and the clattering echo of heavy booted tread echoed through the silence of the marble halls.

[Seren Ash]

The Specialist tended to get just that look that The Meddler had a moment ago. It was what first freaked out the council, and made them realize what she was. What she could do. A shiver passed over her back as she walked through the opening, she waited for The Meddler to be through and then used her sonic device to closer the statue. They would never find the passage, it was her own personal one. It had been put into a place, as a way for the especially gifted to escape in case of a danger.

The Acolytes wouldn't know about it, and they would be able to run. She would be able to accompany him for a little bit. She was glad that he had promised to take her from the Schism. "I plan on holding you to that promise." She whispered as she shivered from head to foot. The pale haired and eyed woman had an odd drawn out look to her for a moment. "I've known the War was coming, since I was young. No one listened to me, I think the council may have started in on that dang prophecy, because of me."S he whispered.

There was a mournful tone to her voice as she walked down the hall, that was beneath the statue. She looked back at him for a moment, then ahead of herself. She kept walking, quiet for a few moments. "This will take us out, just outside of the old Royal quarter, in the servant passages, long unused since the Royal family was taken out of commission." She said with a soft snarl. The pain there, the anger there, was a dangerous combination. She hated the Council for what they had done to her family.

"I have vendettas against that particular council member, anyways. I'll take pleasure in hurting him." She said with a soft almost dark tone to her voice. So few Time Lords were actually capable of hurting another, but the Specialist had been known to destroy anyone that went after the children she had overseen the Initiations of.

[The First Doctor]

By the time the door closed, the Meddler's perceptions had largely returned to normal. He looked about curiously.

"I plan on holding you to that promise." She whispered as she shivered from head to foot. The pale haired and eyed woman had an odd drawn out look to her for a moment. "I've known the War was coming, since I was young. No one listened to me, I think the council may have started in on that Rassilon prophecy, because of me."

"Really?" he was curious, now. He knew, everyone knew, that the Specialist was said to have a clear vision of Time. "Since yeh were young? If'n the Council heard yeh, that mebbe why they put so much stock in the Pythians."

A shrug. "O' course, we might 'ave more important things to worry 'bout, right now. What with the guard a' comin'." He laughed, a quick burst of humor. "Run first an' scheme second, hey?"

He followed her through the passage, the heavy soles of his work boots raising clicking echoes as he walked. The Specialist looked back at him, then forward again.

"This will take us out, just outside of the old Royal quarter, in the servant passages, long unused since the Royal family was taken out of commission."

"The Royal quarter?" he echoed in surprise. "Oi ain't been there fer, well, since we was plottin' again' the Council. The Doctor's idea it was, meetin' there. Said it only made sense."

It was a casual statement, but it triggered a flood of memories. The Master and the Watcher debating which of the Deca were the most qualified for a specific task. The Architect, his devices tied into the noosphere, watching for danger. The War Chief, moving icons of their followers about a holosculpt of the Panopticon, while the Rani and the Artificer debated the merits of specific strategies.

And the Doctor. The heart and soul of the Deca, reminding them why.

He shook his head. "Oi... Oi just don't get it. Why'd he turn on us, right at the end?"

"I have vendettas against that particular council member, anyways. I'll take pleasure in hurting him." She said with a soft almost dark tone to her voice.

"Eh?" he said. "Sorry, Oi was a million miles away. Which one 'ave yeh a vendetta against, again?" A quick, humorless laugh. "There so many t' choose from."