All together now {Tag: ALL TIME LORDS}

[Seren Ash]

Dear TimeLords,
This is the Specialist, an event has occurred that has returned me to the space time continuum of which you all reside. There is a change at hand, and a meeting that will need to be had. A mission to accomplish it, and with it a start of a new Era for Time Lords.

It has come to my attention that the last time many of you gathered, you nearly tore each other apart. Not this time. I know that for the longest time The Doctor thought himself the last. Now it is time for all of us to gather and celebrate, what is left of our race. Those of you born on Gallifrey, will need to explain who I am - to those who were not.

I'm am The Specialist, and I call you all to this location attached to the message, to gather and celebrate. To speak of what is needed. There will be no violence in this situation, there is a dampening field placed upon violent actions.

I dearly hope to see all of you there,
The Specialist

And thus this message was sent out to all the TARDIS' in working order. Sent out even by word of mouth, by Goblins with scrolls, that were part of the TARDIS that the Meddler held. These goblins would track down any time lord without a TARDIS, and extend an invitation to them. The meeting place? A hotel in Cadriff. The time, December 22nd, 2012. This was a time for the Time Lords to reconvene, gather their forces, and for old truths to be spoken and known.


The Specialist was ready, and dressed to impress. In as close to high end earth ware as she could. Armani suit, with jewelry to match. But it was the bright white colors, with icy blue, that would mark her for who she was. Guardian of the Halls, Keeper of the Children. The Specialist that was designed and raised to care for those that needed it. The most shocking of all, was the single diadem on her brow, one that many Time Lords would remember from their history. It was a relic of the Royal family, of which was overthrown by the Council of Gallifrey.

The Council that had been the downfall of their people. The ones that had corrupted and created the Deca and the Academ. The ones that experimented on their children. No more, no longer. The Specialist would see to the care of their children, and the rise of their new society. She just hoped she could remove the thoughts of her conversation with The Guardians, from her mind. It troubled her so.

Calmly her palm rested on her swelling belly, as she waited for The Meddler, and The Dreamweaver to arrive. Currently two of the most important people in her life.

[The Meddler]

If the Meddler was dressed to impress, it was an accident. He was wearing his trademark grey suit and patent leather shoes, with a white button-down shirt and blue tie. His cane of scrimshawed bone and orichalcum was carried in his left hand. With his right, he held the door for the Dreamweaver.

As he released the door handle to offer his arm to the Dreamweaver, the results of his recent experiments could be seen. When the light caught them just right, flexible patterns of psionic circuitry picked out in nanometer-thick platinum wire were visible on his palms and the insides of his fingers.

"You really should be wearing the full, formal regalia you're entitled to, since - with any luck - you'll be meeting all the survivors of Gallifrey today," he was saying to the Dreamweaver. The tone of his words and the expression on his face were excessively - comedically - serious "And we still have time. It would be no trouble at all for the TARDIS to manufacture the robes and headdress for you. And, as the House Unmade had no existence until about a year ago, you would be free to use any color scheme that suits your fancy."

As they reached the Specialist, he released the Dreamweaver's arm and sketched a shallow bow. "Good day, my lady the Specialist." His glance flickered to the diadem on her brow, and he reassumed the excessively serious expression. "Or, should I say, your highness?"

He held the serious expression for several seconds before a snort of laughter escaped. Then he took her hand, and squeezed it gently. "I don't know how I ever managed to get through all of the Protocol back in the old days." He glanced at the empty hall. "Do we know for certain, yet, if anyone is coming?"

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

Glamour was a wonderful thing for a Sidhe. Sisi followed the Meddler through the door, her bare feet encased by what seemed crystallised moonlight if such a thing ever existed. She wore a flowing misty green dress following her curves, glimmering with morning dews like diamonds at the top and fanning out like exquisite silk around her legs, seeming to animate with her every move. Her hair was an array of wild copper curls, held away from her face by vines seeming to grow through her hair itself. Her skin was aglow, her presence seeming that of the Seelie Queen herself.

And it was all a glamour, an image fabricated by her mind and made physical by her control of the mind, dreams.

Really, she was wearing the leather battle gear she wore to all situations she did not trust, her guns and knives strapped to her hips. Glamour was indeed a wonderful thing, no one suspected a thing, the glamour worked even on Time Lords. That and she did not want to come over hostile.

And so, with the glamour in place, she placed a delicate bare hand inside The Meddler's elbow, giving him a small squeeze at his words.

"You really should be wearing the full, formal regalia you're entitled to, since - with any luck - you'll be meeting all the survivors of Gallifrey today," he was saying to the Dreamweaver. The tone of his words and the expression on his face were excessively - comedically - serious "And we still have time. It would be no trouble at all for the TARDIS to manufacture the robes and headdress for you. And, as the House Unmade had no existence until about a year ago, you would be free to use any color scheme that suits your fancy."

"Even though it is so kind of you dear Robin, I'm afraid I must pass. The robes just.. don't suit my fancy, really. Too old fashioned, perhaps. And besides, I don't see you wearing them." She said with a smile on her face. She still didn't have the heart to tell him the robes were hideous.

She could feel the loss of his warmth the moment she lost her hold on his arm. He made a bow to the Specialist. She too, nodded her head at the woman in greeting, murmuring her name gently as her voice echoed. The diadem on her brow did not seem familiar to her, since she knew nearly to nothing about Gallifrey other then what The Meddler had told her.

She was a new breed of Time Lord, she technically wasn't like them, she had never seen Gallifrey and she was merely a snuff of time compared to their age at just 27. She couldn't more more uncommon with them really and she wouldn't have responded to the invitation had it not been for Robin insisting that she would come with him too.

And thus, like the Meddler, she had dressed for the occasion. Or more like glamoured for the occasion.

The invitation had been sent out to all remaining Time Lords.

And that worried her.

Greatly.

[The 11th Doctor]

Dear TimeLords,This is the Specialist, an event has occurred that has returned me to the space time continuum of which you all reside. There is a change at hand, and a meeting that will need to be had. A mission to accomplish it, and with it a start of a new Era for Time Lords.

It has come to my attention that the last time many of you gathered, you nearly tore each other apart. Not this time. I know that for the longest time The Doctor thought himself the last. Now it is time for all of us to gather and celebrate, what is left of our race. Those of you born on Gallifrey, will need to explain who I am - to those who were not.

I'm am The Specialist, and I call you all to this location attached to the message, to gather and celebrate. To speak of what is needed. There will be no violence in this situation, there is a dampening field placed upon violent actions.

I dearly hope to see all of you there,
The Specialist



The One flicked off the message cube.

"Well. Now, isn't that wonderful. The last of the Time Lords. All together. That means me."

He smiled a smile, a dark smile, that could scare beings from the darkest reaches of the universe. He fixed his longcoat, and brushed back his white blonde hair. His golden eyes shimmered with mischievousness. He wore a black longcoat, and underneath that, a black Armani suit. He wore his see-through shades, which he proudly proclaimed to look 'sexy' on him. He flicked a switch on his TARDIS, and yanked a lever. Hitting a glowing red button, he sat back for the ride, rubbing his hands.

The golden orb that passed for his TARDIS started to whirr, then vanish, leaving the decimated bodies of the Sontaran legion, ripped limb from limb, lying in a circle around where it had once been.

________________________

For the longest time, The Doctor thought himself the last...

Eleven flicked a switch on his TARDIS, grinning widely. He wore a fez and a dark suit, along with a wooden cane, all but the fez acquired in Germany, 1934. His eyes shimmered with anticipation.

For the longest time, The Doctor thought himself the last...

The TARDIS shook and rumbled, but Eleven grasped the railing. Reaching forward, he slid a lever upwards, and spun another. The temporal coordinates were going all wibbly-wobbly. His TARDIS could sense other Time Lords than the Doctor- something she hadn't felt in a very long time.

"Easy there, sexy." The Doctor stroked his TARDIS console slightly, and almost as if responding to his commands, the TARDIS stopped rumbling and came to a stop. The temporal coordinates shook, and then stopped.

For the longest time, The Doctor thought himself the last...

But even as the Doctor smiled and switched off the engines, he realized something, deep in the pit of his heart. He had been alone for so long. He had destroyed them all. It was all his fault. And now here he was. Facing the Last of the Time Lords, here in a small city on an insignificant world in vastness of space.

For the longest time, the Doctor thought himself the last...

The Doctor steeled himself, fixed the fez, and marched towards the TARDIS door.

And emerged, into the last of the time Lords, in a hotel, in Cardiff, Wales.

For the longest time, The Doctor thought himself the last.

Not anymore.

[Seren Ash]

They were arriving slowly, Tracenista was keeping herself in control. She turned to see the first arriving was Meddler. Her Meddler, or was her. How far will you go for your happiness. The words echoed in her mind, as the pain rushed through her for a moment. It never showed on her face as she smiled at him gently. In with Meddler, came Dreamweaver. She felt a stab in her chest, as she placed her hand on her abdomen.

Her eyes closed for a moment, as she remained calm. She opened her eyes and smiled at them both gently. "For you Meddler, and Dreamweaver, if is never Highness. It is always Trace. Please do remember that." She said calmly as she drew herself up to prepare herself what was to come. She could sense the approach of the TARDIS' of other time lords.

"We may have a few issues, but the people showing up will come to understand what will be happening." She said softly as she paced back and forth. "The Guardian's themselves made it known to me, that I was supposed to take this role. Lead our people." She said, and then she stopped her attention turned towards the approach of another man.

"Welcome, The One. Yes I know your name, I know your age. I know everything about you. Please understand, that this is a no violence zone. And if you happen to act upon violence, within this zone, you will get quite a shock." She said politely as she smiled at him. "I am the Specialist, as you are well aware. Since you served a time as the Lord President. There will be no Lord President position in this new world order." She stated firmly as she watched him.

Oh yes, she knew him, what he had done. She knew his ways. Then her attention was drawn, to the feeling of a special type of TARDIS. "So he has joined us, I wonder if The Master will joing as well." She said with a rather cheerful smile. Her attention directly focused on the door, as The Doctor joined them. "Welcome, Doctor. I am the Specialist, as you well remember from your younger years. Of course, I was the one that invited you. So far at this little event, we have The Meddler, The Dreamweaver, and The One." She said and then stepped forward to extend a hand to The Doctor.

"Please tell me Doctor, have you seen The Archivist?"

[The Meddler]

"Even though it is so kind of you dear Robin, I'm afraid I must pass. The robes just.. don't suit my fancy, really. Too old fashioned, perhaps. And besides, I don't see you wearing them." She said with a smile on her face. She still didn't have the heart to tell him the robes were hideous.

He laughed. "I don't wear them because I'm a renegade and a criminal. I don't have to wear them." He paused, feeling his pulses race as he looked at her again. "Although I must admit, you are far more beautiful wearing glamour and enchantment than you would be in the robes of an Initiate of the Academy. They are hardly flattering."

---

"For you Meddler, and Dreamweaver, if is never Highness. It is always Trace. Please do remember that." She said calmly as she drew herself up to prepare herself what was to come.

The Meddler - always far more old-fashioned about this sort of thing than people expected - looked scandalized by her casual use of her name. But she continued before he could say anything.

"We may have a few issues, but the people showing up will come to understand what will be happening." She said softly as she paced back and forth.

"What will be happening?" he asked, releasing her hand to allow her to pace. As he did, he half-turned and took the Dreamweaver's hand, the pad of his thumb tracing a gentle design on the back of her hand as he did. "Gather and celebrate, what is left of our race," he quoted the words from memory, then shook his head sadly. "They may show up, but..."

"The Guardian's themselves made it known to me, that I was supposed to take this role. Lead our people." She said, and then she stopped her attention turned towards the approach of another man.

He squeezed the Dreamweaver's hand, startled at the words, but said nothing as the Specialist welcomed the first of the new arrivals. "My lord President," he said without bowing, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

"I am the Specialist, as you are well aware. Since you served a time as the Lord President. There will be no Lord President position in this new world order." She stated firmly as she watched him.

His hand tightened in the Dreamweaver's grasp, seeking comfort, or reassurance. The diadem and this talk of 'new world orders' and almost divinely-appointed leaders was alarming him.

The door opened again, and the Specialist turned to greet the Doctor. "Welcome, Doctor. I am the Specialist, as you well remember from your younger years. Of course, I was the one that invited you. So far at this little event, we have The Meddler-"

At that, shooting a mischievous glance at the One, he nodded. "My lord President," he echoed, a thin line of in the words.

[The 11th Doctor]

The One's eyebrow raised slightly as The Meddler and The Specialist addressed him.

"Welcome, The One. Yes I know your name, I know your age. I know everything about you. Please understand, that this is a no violence zone. And if you happen to act upon violence, within this zone, you will get quite a shock." She said politely as she smiled at him. "I am the Specialist, as you are well aware. Since you served a time as the Lord President. There will be no Lord President position in this new world order."

The One tugged slightly at his glasses.

Foolish. As if there could ever hope to be peace amongst us, the very last. But the One did not speak his inclinations.

"What foolish notions you have. you are the last of my kind. I may bear no goodwill towards any of you- I wish to see some of you you dead- but I would not wish to be alone in this universe of filthy beings."

Finishing his short speech, he noticed someone emerging from his TARDIS.

"Ah. The Doctor. The fabled last of the Time Lords. How goes the day...old friend?"

The One's face contorted with a rage he could not conceal with his silver tongue, and he promptly sat down.

We shall see how this pompous game ends...

_____________________________________________

"Welcome, Doctor. I am the Specialist, as you well remember from your younger years. Of course, I was the one that invited you. So far at this little event, we have The Meddler, The Dreamweaver, and The One." She said and then stepped forward to extend a hand to The Doctor.

Eleven smiled and shook the Specialists hand, though his face darkened at the mention of the One.

"Please tell me Doctor, have you seen The Archivist?"

His smile brightened. "Oh, yes. I saw her here, in Cardiff, what was it...5 years ago. Or five years from now. Timey-wimey."

"My lord President,", intoned The Meddler.

"Hello, Meddler." He turned towards the Meddler.

"I'm not Lord President. Not anymore." His face darkened as the One began to speak.

The blonde-haired Time Lord leaned forward.

"Yes. That's right isn't it, Doctor? There's nothing left to rule anymore. No more fiery red skies? Oh yes. You ended them, entombed them for all eternity in a time Lock. Doomed them to Time War."

The Doctor turned way from the One. The last time he had seen him, he'd rescued him from a black hole, and left him stranded in space in his damaged TARDIS. More than 3 years ago, now.

[Rebbeca S. Tarks]

Sexy had been wandering time and spac ot of boredom when she had recieved a psychic message to the time lords. Imedeatly she headed for Galifrey, hoping everything was alright. It was rare to recieve messages from Galifrey, but usualy it was important. She hoped to see her thief there. Upon arrival, Sexy noticed a woman introducing herself to her thief as the specialist, "Specialist? In what?"

[Sisilaya Vulmecura]

The other womans feelings were no stranger to her, all Sidhe were born with heightened empathic abilities and she could practically feel how the woman was hiding her sorrow. She felt sorry for her, really, she had never meant for things to go this way. Her green eyes flitted to that of the Meddler, uncertain again if she should even be here. The woman was pregnant, she didn't need such things played out right in front of her right now.

She wanted to elbow Robin for his scandalised look at the Specialist invitation to use her name so informally.

"We may have a few issues, but the people showing up will come to understand what will be happening." She said softly as she paced back and forth.

"What will be happening?" he asked

Indeed, what would happen? She turned to the Meddler as his hand slid around hers, their fingers entwining. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, hiding it between their bodies. She was being unusually silent to what she normally was. She always got like this when she wasn't sure what to do with a situation. Should she even be holding his hand in front of the Specialist like that.

"Gather and celebrate, what is left of our race," he quoted the words from memory, then shook his head sadly. "They may show up, but..."

"The Guardian's themselves made it known to me, that I was supposed to take this role. Lead our people." She said, and then she stopped her attention turned towards the approach of another man.

The sympathy she had held for the woman went down quite a notch after those words she spoke, she was immediately seconded with the fact that she not seemed to be the only one by the way the Meddler was nervously squeezing her hand. Self appointed leaders said to have been approved by the divine were reason to cause many alarm bells. It always ended bad, either for the person or for the people, more often the latter.

She squeezed Robin's head back, averting her eyes from the Specialist for a moment as they darkened to a more storm coloured green, her jaw clenching. She too was glad that the Specialist was too busy welcoming new 'guests'

"My lord President," he said without bowing, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

"I am the Specialist, as you are well aware. Since you served a time as the Lord President. There will be no Lord President position in this new world order." She stated firmly as she watched him.

The moment the woman had uttered the words "new world order" her glamour shifted drastically, for a moment showing a glimmer of her battle gear through before it was strongly back in place again. She felt Robin once again squeeze her hand, firmly, frightened. She looked him straight in the eye, she could feel he was as alarmed by this as she was.

A cold feel went up her spine as she took in the blonde newcomer, it didn't take a Sidhe to see the man had no good intentions. She looked back at the Specialist, how could she be so foolish as to gather all Time Lords, when she was being so vulnerable with being pregnant. Those children had to be sheltered, no exposed to these kind of dangers before they were even born.

Her eyes widened in alarm as she realised something, her nails almost dug into the Meddlers hand.

"Did she say all Time Lords, including Xandavier?" She hissed softly.

[Seren Ash]

"Here is a bit of an understanding, that has to be made. If you do any violent acts, while within the confines of the safe zone, you will be crippled by the pain you inflict on the other person. Meaning, you yourself will feel what you are doing to them." She said clearly as she began to walk back and forth. Taking all of the words into consideration. She closed her eyes, as she tried to figure out how to work on things.

"I want to build a new home for us. There is something none of you know about." She said as she paced back and forth. "Back when the War was happening, I sent away a captain of the Gurad. With six others, and three generations of Gallifrey's children. So that they would be safe. I'd known how the war would end, how it always would." She said softly.

"I knew what would happen, but I couldn't change it. I wasn't allowed to. With great powers, come great responsibilities. The Council always cloaked from the normal members, exactly what I could do. I have a connection to time, that until The Meddler, was unprecedented in a normal Time Lord. Because of this, I was placed at the head of the Halls. I was the one set up to take care of the children, watch them - guide and protect them."

"With these children, that will be brought here - by a special guest. Or retrieved, with the aid of other time lords, and the aid of the special guest. We can find a new homeworld, and begin our society again. But this time, we will not allow corruption in the ranks of our leaders. The new people I wish to guide and watch, will be based around what the Doctor has done." She said as she turned to him.

"Being a light, guiding the races that are less developed. The people that need help, that's what we shall do. No longer will we hide in the shadows, and never interact with other races. We will help their development, across the periods that they are supposed to. We will make sure that hiccups in their society are handled. In the sense of, say a Trans-interdimensional ship is formed, by a human in this realm... A device that they are not supposed to have for ages to come... we need to remove that item - so they advance at the pace that is normal within their time stream. Other then that, we won't interfere or lead... or rule over them. It's not our place."

"Just because we are so advanced, doesn't mean we will be the leaders of the universe. We will be guardians, and guidance. Now I won't force anyone to participate in this, and I won't force anyone to join the new home world. This is all based on free will. But understand that we will work against you, if you go against the natural order of time." She said simply and gently.

[The Master]

A few minutes earlier...

'Jake' removed his helmet as his motorcycle rumbled to a stop, and stashed it in a saddlebag. Then he sat back for a second, and looked at the hotel with a trace of amusement on his face.

It wasn't every day one received an invitation from a dead woman, after all.

He was tall and lean, wearing a black suit and a grey tie with a diamond-shaped pattern, and a yellow oxford. It wasn't fancy - he generally tried to hold himself to the standard of living one could expect from a First Lieutenant in Her Majesty's Army, but the clothes were still the best quality he could afford. And, he decided as he checked his reflection in a window, the look set off his chocolate skin and black hair.

He pushed open the door to the ballroom, curious to see who else would have accepted the invitation from this alleged "Specialist" - he knew the name, but he also knew she had died with the Halls of Eileithyia, shortly before he had fled.

Of course, more of us have managed to survive than I would have believed, he thought. It could be true.

The group wasn't large. A regal-looking pregnant woman in a tailored suit stood in the center of the room The Specialist. He - any Time Lord - would know her, instantly. She was wearing a tiara... No, he corrected himself, a Diadem. He lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

A man in a grey suit - the Meddler, from the eye-hurting way he only existed in three dimensions - with an unknown but gorgeous redhead on his arm. He eyed her critically, disliking the unknown, and decided she was far more than the bit of candy she appeared at first glance. A bodyguard, perhaps, he thought, and one with a close relationship. And a Djinn, or a Sidhe, as well.

He didn't miss the tension between the Specialist and the redhead, either. He tended to pick up on these things. They were potentially exploitable.

Standing separate from the others was a blonde man in a tailored black suit, giving the group a look of haughty disdain. "Yes. That's right isn't it, Doctor? There's nothing left to rule anymore," the blonde was saying. "No more fiery red skies? Oh yes. You ended them, entombed them for all eternity in a time Lock. Doomed them to Time War."

"That," he said, peering curiously at the Doctor's new look, "is not quite true. The Doctor has quite a few skills, but effective genocide and choosing decent clothes - a bowtie? Really? - are not numbered among them."

He clapped the Doctor on the shoulder. "And you. I saw not one, but two, of your previous incarnations with the Archivist not two years ago. Relative. Tell me you wised up, shacked up, and got to work making a bunch of little Time Babies."

Then he smiled at the group. "Oh, if anyone's wondering: I am known as the Master. Universally."

In the background, the other door to the ballroom opened.

[The Master]

"Oh, if anyone's wondering: announced a black man in a dark suit. "I am known as the Master. Universally."

"Interesting," said the new arrival, an odd note of electronic reverb in his voice. "I was about to say the same."

He was a tall man, pale, with a large nose and sandy-blonde hair and beard. The right side of his face seemed curiously immobile. He wore loose clothing - a black suit with thin grey stripes, a white oxford and maroon tie, all of which hung on him. And seemed to move, slightly, with an independent motion.

"I," he said, "am the Master. I do not know who this imposter is."

The black man smirked. "The Master. A Time Lord. Not a human with delusions."

The new arrival smirked back, with half his mouth, and produced a parchment scroll. "A human with delusions?" he echoed, mockingly. "Then why would I have been delivered an invitation - from the Specialist?" He bowed a shallow bow. "Inviting me to a function for Time Lords only?"

[The Meddler]

He squeezed the Dreamweaver's hand by reflex, feeling the anxiety and concern emanating from her.

And then he looked at her in surprise, then let his cane balance itself as he looked at the palm of his left hand. He could feel the anxiety and concern emanating from her. It was dim, true, but he could feel it.

The look on his face was indescribable, mingled shock and wonder. It was like suddenly being able to make out dim shapes, after a lifetime of being blind. The psionic circuitry was working better than he had anticipated.

Then he winced as she reacted to the Specialist's words, her grip tightening almost painfully as her glamour shifted and faded for a moment. "Did she say all Time Lords, including Xandavier?" She hissed softly.

At that moment, two men he didn't recognize at first entered the ballroom. Both proclaimed themselves the Master, and both began to squabble about who was the real one.

"Presumably," he said, equally softly. "If two copies of the Master can be invited, then I would assume he would have received the message as well."

As an experiment, he tried to project feelings of comfort back through the circuitry. "This is neutral ground, though. I had a look at the defenses she put in place. They're solid."

And then the Specialist began to speak. She explained how she knew the War was coming - something he remembered her telling him about - and about the steps she'd taken to save three generations of Gallifrey's children. She spoke of finding a new Homeworld, and for a moment he was caught up in the dream. In his mind's eye, he could see the crimson grass of the plains, the light of the twin suns striking white gold from the silver leaves of the mallomourn trees, the amber skies he still expected to see every time he stepped from the TARDIS onto an alien world.

"Being a light, guiding the races that are less developed. The people that need help, that's what we shall do. No longer will we hide in the shadows, and never interact with other races."

He smiled at the thought. An interventionist Gallifrey, aiding and uplifting the less advanced civilizations. It was a thing he had dreamed of, ever since his first visit to the end of the Stelliferous Era.

"We will help their development, across the periods that they are supposed to."

The smile began to fade.

"We will make sure that hiccups in their society are handled. In the sense of, say a Trans-interdimensional ship is formed, by a human in this realm... A device that they are not supposed to have for ages to come... we need to remove that item - so they advance at the pace that is normal within their time stream. Other then that, we won't interfere or lead... or rule over them. It's not our place."

"Wait, what?" he interrupted. "Gallifrey is dead, and you still want to enforce the Protocols of History?" He clenched his cane in his fist. "If they've built a device that they 'are not supposed to have for ages to come', then they are supposed to have it. Then. Not when we decide they should have it."

"Just because we are so advanced, doesn't mean we will be the leaders of the universe. We will be guardians, and guidance. Now I won't force anyone to participate in this, and I won't force anyone to join the new home world. This is all based on free will. But understand that we will work against you, if you go against the natural order of time." She said simply and gently.

"The 'natural order of time'?" he gaped. "There is no natural order of time. Not since the days of Rassilon, and the Anchoring."

"I rather think that what she says makes perfect sense," a new voice interrupted.

[Xandavier]

The man paused at the ballroom door, listening to a commanding and feminine voice outlining a plan for a new Gallifrey. He had business there, of course. If he had not, he would not have been there. The perception filters would have seen to that.

He was a tall man, with a cruelly handsome face and white hair that hung halfway down his back. He wore a black collarless shirt of linen, and black on black brocade Nehru suit of heavy silk. His shoes were high-gloss black ankle boots, with pointed toes, and black gloves of some leather-like material covered his hands.

He opened the door as a familiar voice barked out "The 'natural order of time'?" he gaped. "There is no natural order of time. Not since the days of Rassilon, and the Anchoring."

"I rather think that what she says makes perfect sense," he countered.

He paused in the doorway, accepting the eyes that turned his direction as his due. Then, casually, as if he owned the hotel, he entered.

"I must say that I am disappointed that you began without me," he said, stopping several paces from the group. His cool blue eyes swept over the room. He noted the Diadem on the Specialist's brow with a twitch of his lip, the human cyborg with the mind of a Time Lord with a lifted eyebrow, and the presence of four of the Deca with a single noise that might have been a mild laugh.

And his daughter. She received a look of both appraisal and interest - she had changed, dramatically, in the months that had passed for her and the years that had passed for him.

"Ah, my Lord the Meddler," he said, "I see that even the Grandfather Paradox cannot escape filling the archetypal roles we built into alien civilizations. Are you consort to the Triple Goddess, now? Maiden," he glanced at his daughter, "Mother," his eyes moved to the pregnant Specialist, "and Crone?" he said, looking at the ring on the Meddler's finger.

He watched the Meddler's fist clench, and smiled lightly. "Please, no violence. I should like to avoid a repeat of our last encounter - it served no purpose, I fear. I have come to participate in my Lady the Specialist's gathering, and to hear her admirable goals."

He paused, then looked the Specialist in the eye. "But tell me, my Lady the Specialist - and please believe me that I wish only the best for your plan. It is true that Gallifrey had many enemies, and many of them survive the Time War. How will you defend your fledgling Homeworld?"

[Seren Ash]

"First and foremost, this is just the idea that I have. It's not solidified. What I'm talking about is keeping technology from young races, that would lead to their self-destruction." She said politely as she nodded to the two men that had entered. "Now, Masters, please for the sake of Rassilon stay away from each other - just in case you are indeed the same being. Please do not touch each other." She said softly, with a serene smile.

"Ah, I see Xandavier has decided to join us." She said politely as she continued to pace. Her head turned at his words, and her eyes whirled with silver tones, looking quite like the vortex for a moment. "I'd appreciate Xandavier, if you kept those comments to yourself." She snapped firmly, she was not too keen on his comments towards Meddler. She herself was trying to figure out where all of that stood.

"Let's not act like bickering children, now. We need to keep The Guardians from interfering too much." She said coldly. The warm woman that Meddler had known, was gone. There was no children here, other then what was in her womb. Her eyes closed as she pressed her fingers to her wrist for a moment, calming all of her emotions, and allowing herself true mental peace.

"A brilliant question, indeed. Well the special guest that will arrive, has an answer for that. Him and his six will be the new Guard group for the homeworld. They will then select among the ranks who has what it takes to work amongst them. There will be extensive psychological training, as well as other, to keep people that are corrupt from advancing in the ranks. Unless they show proper developmental changes." She said as she continued to pace.

She didn't want to stay in one place, it didn't feel right to stay in one place. "Other then that, I had high hopes of The Archivist arriving. I have knowledge, from when the Time War happened, that she spent three weeks with The Warchive, and several other Gallifreyan's of whom she took knowledge from, and archived. It would be useful, to create non-lethal ways to disable the Daleks, and then reprogram them." She said softly as she turned towards the group.

"That is what I need the Meddler and The Dreamweaver for. They are the brightest minds I know, and I am quite certain that together they could bring together a combination of their talents, that would create a reprogramming matrix that could be used on Daleks and Cybermen." She said as she tapped her foot and blew out a long breath. That was when she was stopped, by the form of a woman stumbling into the chambers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five years since she had seen Eleven, five years. And those years had changed the woman in a few ways. When she arrived, she was wearing a pair of knee high leather boots. Flat footed, and form fitting. Beneath that was a pair of steel grey jeans that clung to her body. She wore a blood red turtleneck, with a long black peacoat. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, and there was a briefcase of sorts in her hands.

But it was the way she was walking, that showed something odd. There was weakness in her step, pain in her step. Well that was likely because she had just gotten done saving a colony from a cybermen invasion. The Medical sector of her TARDIS was broken. Any empaths in the room, could feel that she was having strength leaked from her. It was a good thing that her peacoat was black, and her turtleneck red. Because beneath those, was a wrapped wound. She had barely sealed it up, and even then she wasn't going to last long.

But she put on that steely look, and smiled. For timelords could hide what was happening to them, even from others. Look at what Ten had done, hidden from all that he was going to die because of radiation poisoning. She shivered from head to foot for a moment,a nd then bowed to all present. "I apologize for my lateness. I was dealing with a cybermen invasion on a colony." She said politely and then took a seat in one of the chairs. She couldn't bring the strength to do much more then wave at Eleven.