And They Bravely Ran Away, Away [closed for now]

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

"I gave Alec Harrison and Sarah Jane Smith enchanted plums, you know, to aid in the budding a little. The moron next to you decided to eat one too and ended up snogging Alec instead so I had to cut my fun short." She smiled with a shrug.

The Meddler folded his arms and gave the Dreamweaver a sour look. Her mouthed you did eat it! drew a laugh and a "And you're complaining about it?" He gave it a half-second pause, then added, "You're a better kisser than your brother, you know."

The Could've-Been King made gagging sounds.

Things turned serious, quickly, as the King filled them in on how the Time Lords could have tracked them.

"They can track us anywhere," said the Meddler with finality. "They can find us by following the Dreamweaver's mind, and pinpoint us with biodatic sniffers."

"Probably wouldn't help if I just became dumb" She deadpanned.

"No," the Meddler agreed. "It would take a fairly radical shift in your thought processes." He paused, seeming to have an idea. Then he shook his head. "No."

With that, the Could've-Been King told them to run, offering to delay the Time Lords so they - or, at least, so the Dreamweaver - could escape. Before joining him, she ran to the Could've-Been King, hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, and handed him one of her earrings.

Then she took his hand, and pulled him down for a kiss. "You knobhead" she whispered.

"Was I that obvious?" he whispered back.

"Yes," answered both the Could've-Been King and Malekirith. "Now get the hell out of here!" the King added.

"Yes let's go. But are we taking him with us?" She motioned towards the Sidhe Lord. "We can't just leave him here, he'll be food for the dogs."

Malekirith looked offended. "My Lady the Dreamweaver," he said, "I have done you and your Lord a great disservice. I shall stay, and aid you in escaping your enemies."

He smiled, showing a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. "And, in truth, how could I flee? I am a Warrior of the Red Branch, and testing myself against an army of the Lords of Time will be a deed that will ensure my immortality."

[Koschei]

"Thank you," the Meddler said, then held his hand out towards Sisi... towards the Dreamweaver. He'd have to get used to that.

But she turned, threw her arms around him, and kissed him on the cheek like she did when she was little.

"Don't get yourself killed, you hear me? I inherited mums gift for healing."

"Death - my death, at least - is not on the agenda," he assured her.

She took one of her golden ear drops out and held it in her closed fist. Her eyes glowed for a moment and she placed the small jewel in the Kings hand, the gold shimmering with Sidhe energy. "Call on me if you need my help. Don't waste a regeneration on it."

He looked at the ear drop, and tucked it safely into one of his overcoat pockets. "I will. If I need it, and if I can do it without risking your safety, I will."

He hugged her, one last time (and how morbid did that thought sound), and watched as she crossed to the Meddler and kissed him. It still rankled but, for just an instant, he could glimpse the paths that had brought them to this point. And somehow, even if he couldn't understand the other Meddler's actions, he could accept them.

"Was I that obvious?" the Meddler whispered as the kiss was broken.

"Yes!" the Could've-Been King answered. "Now get the hell out of here!"

But Sisi stopped, concerned about the Sidhe Lord.

Malekirith looked offended. "My Lady the Dreamweaver," he said, "I have done you and your Lord a great disservice. I shall stay, and aid you in escaping your enemies."

He smiled, showing a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. "And, in truth, how could I flee? I am a Warrior of the Red Branch, and testing myself against an army of the Lords of Time will be a deed that will ensure my immortality."

The Could've-Been King looked pleased. "The Red Branch has quite a reputation," he said. "I'm honored by your assistance."

Malekirith bowed in return. "And I have a final motivation, my Lord."

"Oh?" the King sounded curious. "Really? What's that?"

"It is my fondest hope that, after we prevail against the enemies of my Lord Robin and my Lady the Dreamweaver, you will allow me the opportunity to pass my blade through your body and avenge my Lord Findovar."

The King stared at him for a moment. "Wait. You want to save my life, so you can kill me?"

"I ask nothing more."

The King stared for a moment longer. Then he started to laugh. "You're on! Yes! I'll do it!"

Then he looked at Sisi and the Meddler. "Go on!" he shouted, "We've got this!"

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

"Go on!" the Could've-Been King shouted, "We've got this!"

With a final look at his double, the Meddler turned and led the Dreamweaver into the TARDIS. Once inside, he sprang to the controls.

"This is bad," he said through gritted teeth. "They can't find us, as long as we're in the TARDIS. But if we're not out of here, quick, they can chase us."

He entered a final command and threw the activation lever. As the time rotor roared to life, he leaned with both hands on the console. Then, in a sudden fit, he drove his fist into the frame. "Damn!" he shouted, punctuating his words with more blows, "Damn, damn, damn, damn!"

He looked up, his expression a mixture of frustration and fear and embarrasment. "I..." he started, licked his lips, and tried again. "For the first time in, well, a long time, I have no plan. There's nothing I can think of to do. They can find you - find us - anywhere. And there's nothing I can think of that we can do about it."

He stood, staring at the spots of orangish-red blood on the console, left behind when he'd scraped his knuckles on the stone-like coral. "Nothing that doesn't make you into someone entirely different, anyway."

[sisilaya]

"Go on!" the Could've-Been King shouted, "We've got this!"

She gave the King and the Sidhe Lord one last look before she was pulled into the TADIS and it's door smacked shut soundly behind her. Robin immediately made his way to the controls once inside, not looking back.

"This is bad," he said through gritted teeth. "They can't find us, as long as we're in the TARDIS. But if we're not out of here, quick, they can chase us."

"We can't keep running forever Robin, we're going to have to face them sooner or later. I just don't know how.." She trailed off, her eyes searching while she was in internal debate with herself. She bit her lip, her eyebrows drawing in worry.

The comforting hum of the Time Rotor coming to life did very little to calm her nerves and she staggered when suddenly the Meddler drive his fist into the control frame. She shook her head and jogged up next to him as he continued to punch the frame, opening up his hands.

"Damn!" he shouted, punctuating his words with more blows, "Damn, damn, damn, damn!"

She pulled him away from the controls, taking his scratched hands in hers. She sighed and stroked her thumb over the back of his hand "We need to think.. is there a way out of this.." He started to say something but trailed off again, licking his lips. Her hands tightened on his slightly, the orange-red blood spreading over her leather gloves.

"For the first time in, well, a long time, I have no plan. There's nothing I can think of to do. They can find you - find us - anywhere. And there's nothing I can think of that we can do about it."

She stilled, her face blanching as she paled. When the Meddler ran out of idea's it was a bad signal and she felt her hackles rise. She shook her head, no.. no there had to be other ways.

And there were.

"Nothing that doesn't make you into someone entirely different, anyway."

There was a moment of silence before she found her voice again. She knew what he was thinking.

".. you're thinking of the Arch aren't you? And you're right.. it is the only way.."

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

She took his hand, tugging him away from the console. ".. you're thinking of the Arch aren't you? And you're right.. it is the only way.."

The Meddler shook his head angrily. "No. No! It can't be the only way!"

Name one, the analytical part of his mind said.

He couldn't.

With a sudden movement, he swept the Dreamweaver into his arms and held her tight. "I don't like it," he whispered, "but you're right." He held her, telling himself it would be different this time. That he wouldn't lose her, too.

"You're right," he repeated, "it is the only way."

He released her, reluctantly, and turned towards the console. A few keystrokes later, something like an unholy dental chair materialized in the room. He stared at it with loathing.

"The Chameleon Arch," he said, biting down on the words. "This is how we'll escape them."

He glared at it, then turned back to make a few more adjustments at the console. "Tonks!" he called, "Moorg!"

"Yes, my Lord?" Again, the stone-grey Sidhe seemed to have been behind him the whole time, waiting for his summons. A few minutes later, the chief of the TARDIS' complement of goblins arrived with a "wotcher, m'lord".

[sisilaya]

She sighed in slight relief as he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her up against his chest, burying her face against the fabric of his coat jacket. Her arms came around his waist, holding on tight.

"I don't like it," he whispered, "but you're right."

"I don't like being right sometimes" She murmured softly. She knew about the Chameleon Arch, she would forget who she was completely until the key had been activated and she'd regain her memories. But that could take several decades.

Most likely several decades away from Robin, what were the odds of two random persons finding each other again?

"You're right," he repeated, "it is the only way."

Then his warmth was gone and she missed it, watching him turn towards the console, punching in some commands. Not much later a sort of examination chair appeared and her hackles were raised immediately. A memory rose of a dark room with a similar chair, but with leather bonds came into her mind. She shook her head to cast the screams that she remembered so well from her mind. This was not the same.

"The Chameleon Arch," he said, biting down on the words. "This is how we'll escape them."

She remained silent as Robin called for the Goblins, she realized that they would need them to get them out of the TARDIS once they were under the Arch. One would sleep almost for 12 hours after they were brought under the arch. The body healing after the intensive shift of cells.

"I'll go first.." She murmured again and took a step towards the chair.

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

"I'll go first.." She murmured again and took a step towards the chair.

The stress in her voice was clear, and he had some vague sense of the memories the Arch had awoken in her. It was a struggle not to take her in his arms again and comfort her, but he knew that he'd never be able to go through with the Arch if he did.

"All right," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "Let me set the parameters."

That was more complex than normal. Rather than entering a specific location and place, he had to describe to the TARDIS what the desired outcome was and then let her reverse engineer the details. There was several minutes of hard work, before the distant thoughts of the TARDIS mind assured him that everything was ready.

He turned back to find the Dreamweaver seated in the chair, connections already mounted to forehead and wrists. Without realizing it, his left hand gripped his cane hard enough to turn his knuckles white. "There's not a lot I can tell you," he said, taking her hand in his for a moment. "This will hurt, more than anything you've ever experienced. But it will be over, quickly." A pause. "I won't try to give you any advice for while you're under the Arch, because you won't remember it anyway."

He knelt beside her and pressed a small object into her hand. "This is the control, when you're ready." He paused overcome by emotion, and continued in a choked voice. "And I'll be following afterwards. You... you won't be alone."

Another pause, and then he kissed her desperatly. "I love you."

[sisilaya]

The leather of the reclining chair was cold against her skin, she felt vulnerable laying there. Taking deep slow breaths, she forced herself to calm. She heard Robin's footsteps close in on her and she turned her head towards the sound, her eyes opening to look at the white knuckled clutching around his cane.

"There's not a lot I can tell you," he said, taking her hand in his for a moment. "This will hurt, more than anything you've ever experienced. But it will be over, quickly." A pause. "I won't try to give you any advice for while you're under the Arch, because you won't remember it anyway."

"I know" She said quietly, her hand tightening on this. "After you mentioned Patricia I looked up the Chameleon Arch.. I know this will hurt. But it's the only way, isn't it?."

She looked up at him, her eyes pleading as her hand took hold of his sleeve, wanting to pull him closer. That moment, he slipped something cold into her palm. She just nodded mutely when he explained what it was. She had already figured it, really.

The kiss is what she really needed at that moment, and she returned it was as much intensity, her hand fisting into the sleeve of his jacket.

"I love you too" She murmured against his lips.

And with that, she pressed the object in her palm and the pain that came over her was excruciating, but not exactly new. Her back arched off the chair as she screamed, the sound like sirens coming from all directions, the sound was frightening in it's intensity.

Not much later the glamour dropped like an explosion, her golden form thrashing on the chair in convulsion as the echoing screams filled the console room. The pain was so intensive that she couldn't even scream for him to stop, to plead him to turn it off, her face contorted in a pained scream as tears leaked down the sides of her golden radiating face.

Then, she fell back, the impact causing the gold to come off her like dust. She was left nude, her long copper hair stuck to her pale skin. Pale skin that did not glow with energy anymore.

It was just a human girl laying there. Still beautiful, but plain compared to the Dreamweaver. Plain and vulnerable laying there curled up nude on the reclining chair.

She moaned softly, her lips dry. Her eyes rolled under her closed eye lids, she was in a deep sleep.

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

"I love you too" She murmured against his lips. And before he could say anything more, she activated the Arch.

She screamed at first, body arching in a rictus of agony, before her glamour fell away and she was revealed as a thrashing golden form of pure energy. Tears streamed from the Meddler's face as he watched, helpless, his fingernails drawing blood from the palms of his hands.

Moorg made a move towards the chair, only to stop as Tonks laid a slim grey hand on his shoulder. "There is nothing we can do," he said, softly. "Nothing for either of them."

Finally the screaming and the thrashing stopped. She lay in the embrace of the chair, naked and changed. The readouts for the Arch indicated that she was in perfect health. Still, he pressed his fingers to her throat to feel her heart beat, held his ear above her lips to hear her breathe.

"It's done," he said, shaking.

"My Lord," Tonks said, stepping to his side. "Why have you summoned us to witness this?"

The Meddler drew a ragged breath. "We... we're going into hiding, Tonks."

"Of course, my Lord. That is the function of the Arch."

"We won't be back for... years. Possibly decades. I haven't allowed myself to look at the TARDIS' projections."

"My Lord?" Tonks looked shocked.

Carefully, gently, the Meddler lifted the now human Dreamweaver from the chair of the Arch. He carried her to the love seat and, after a moment, laid her down. Then he returned to the chair, sat himself down, and began attaching the probes.

"In a few minutes," he said, "the TARDIS will give you instructions - how to dress us, where to leave us, that sort of thing. Follow them to the letter."

"Of course, my Lord."

The Meddler drew another deep breath. "Tonks, come closer."

The Sidhe did as he was bid, then stared in shock as the Meddler placed his ivory cane in his hands. "You are no longer major domo of my TARDIS," the Meddler informed him. "As this moment, you are my Senechal. You have complete command of the TARDIS. Only she may override your orders."

"My Lord..." Tonks was stunned.

"Moorg."

The goblin stepped forward. "Yes, your Lordship?"

"You are now my Castellan, charged with the defense of my TARDIS and her crew. Your authority is second only to that of Tonks."

Moorg swallowed hard, and nodded.

The Meddler picked up the actuator, his hand trembling. He looked around the console room, eyes on the gently rising and falling time rotor, then turned to look at the sleeping Dreamweaver one last time.

Gritting his teeth, he stabbed the button.

(OOC: Why don't you write a final post with Celia waking up in the caves? Then I'll wrap up Robert waking up and do the final post of the King, and then we can call this thread done.)

[sisilaya]

She groaned softly, the shapes and colors dancing before her eyes, having trouble to focus on anything. How had she ended up here again? All she could think of now was how dry her mouth felt and how much her muscles ached against the cold stone. How long had she been here? Where was she?

"Moira..?" Her voice croaked.

Wait, did she know that name? It felt so familiar, it had to be.

She forced her eyes open again, forcing her back off the cold damp wall behind her. It took some focusing, enough to give her a headache to see two sets of yellow eyes peering at her. Her eyes widened instantly, her body tensing through it's pain like a reflex.

Goblins.

She had to get out of this place.

With that she used the wall for support to get herself onto her heeled feet, she blamed her poor balance on them to the fact her vision was still blurry. No, she just had to get out, fast, pronto.

"Moira!" She screamed and the echo carried through.

She saw light when she rounded the corner.

"Celia!" A voice returned from where the light was coming from. A smile spread to her dry lips, scarlet lipstick faded till the edges of her lips.

She was going to be alright, trudging towards the light.

....


"She's going to be fine, it seems. Lord Robin was right, she doesn't remember a thing."

It was the two goblins. The smaller one had been talking to the taller one, who looked oddly like a gentleman with his patterned scales.

"Then our work is done here, Moorg. We still need to put Lord Robin in place, let's go."

And with a crack of smoke, they were gone.

[Rob "the Meddler" Goodfellow]

Cairo, Egypt
1934

Consciousness returned slowly, in fits and starts. Snapshot images of a dark-skinned bearded man, of an olive-skinned woman in a veil, of a lazy ceiling fan spinning. It didn't linger long.

Finally, with a stabbing pain in his the side of his head and a dull burning ache in his ribs, he seized hold of consciousness. His eyes felt dry and gritty as he looked around. Someone - he couldn't see details - was sitting by the bed. For a brief instant he felt a surging hope that it was... was..

The memory slipped away.

"Wa... ter..." he croaked out.

The figure gasped, sprang erect. "He wakes!" the figure called in a feminine voice. There were footsteps from beyond the room, and a large bearded man burst into the room.

"Al Mutafil!" he cried. "Robert, my friend! You live!"

"Bare... ly."

The man clapped his hand, calling for water. He fed it to Robert with a spoon. "Not too much at once," he said, "You need to keep it down."

Robert choked on the first spoonful, but the man patiently kept at it. "Hakim," he finally managed to ask, "What happened?"

"You do not remember?"

Robert shook his head, and immediately regretted it.

"Slavers," Hakim snarled, "the sons of dogs ambushed you, five to your one. You were gravely wounded, and I feared you dead." He smiled, grimly. "But you have the luck of a thousand devils, Al Mutafil. The dogs were scattered by the howl of a djinn, and that howl led me to you."

"I have to..." he started to rise, and the room swam with the effort.

Hakim pushed him back down. "You need to rest. Allow your wounds to heal, then return to your home as you planned. I love you as a brother, but I fear Egypt does not."

Robert tried to argue, but he was asleep before the words could form.

[Koschei]

The Could've-Been King watched the TARDIS door shut and listened to the fading roar of the ancient engines, feeling a pang of loss stab through him as he did. she was his TARDIS, nearly as much as she was the Meddler's, and he couldn't help but feel... abandoned.

"Have we a plan of attack, my Lord?" asked Malekirith.

The King leaned on the Rod of Rassilon - the real one, salvaged from the Time War - and looked at the Sidhe warrior. "Not so much, no," he confessed. "My plan is to dazzle and baffle them with an overwhelming display of auditory obfuscation."

"You intend to lie to them, then?"

"Like the proverbial cheap rug."

Malekirith frowned in displeasure.

"Ah, don't look at me like that, viscount. I just don't feel the need to slaughter a bunch of my fellow Time Lords." He smiled, and lifted an eyebrow. "Besides, look at it this way. If we don't fight them, we'll both be in top condition to try and murder each other."

Malekirith's eyes lit up. "That is well said!"

"I thought you'd approve."

Wind began to kick up around the mountain, and the roaring of many TARDIS engines began to build in volume and then die away. As they did, a dozen silver geodesic domea appeared - timespace interfaces of TARDISes, uncloaked by the Chameleon circuits. Doors swung open, and Chancellary Guardsmen emerged.

"Where is the Grandfather Paradox?" a Guard Captain demanded. "We know he and his odalisque-" The man's words died away in a choking sound as, suddenly, the Could've-Been King stood before him, lifting him into the air by his throat.

"You will mind your tongue," he said, pleasantly, "when you speak of my goddaughter." He smiled, unconcerned by the stazers leveled at him. "She is called the Dreamweaver, not the Odalisque."

"Release him."

The Could've-Been King half-turned in the direction of the voice, maintaining his grip as he did. "Ah. Colonel Dios. I was just instructing your man on the elements of courtesy." He flashed a mocking half-smile at the Colonel. "It is, I fear, a dying art."

"I find I am unconcerned about your opinion of my men's manners," Colonel Dios snapped. "My concern is the capture of the Grandfather Paradox and his... associate."

The Could've-Been King stared mildly at him. "You know what, Dios?"

"What?"

"I'd had this elaborate dialogue routine in mind. I'd planned to keep you and your men flailing around, trying to figure out what I was saying. It would have been epic, a feat worthy of the Doctor." He smiled. "But then, I remembered something."

"What?" repeated the Colonel, clearly bored.

"Well - and bear in mind that I know it really wasn't you that did it - I remember how the Dios from my memories left me to bleed out on the Royal Square, and laughed about it."

"And?"

"And so," the could've-Been King said, shifting the Rod of Rassilon to his left hand, "I've made a decision."

"Which is?"

The King smiled. Around the shrine and the TARDISes, things began to appear. Spherical Dalek travel machines on heavy articulated legs. Cybermen carved out of stone. Great tentacled masses with distorted faces stretched across bulbous bodies. "That I'm not your attack dog, or your stalking horse. That I'm not the Meddler." He smiled, and his eyes were cold. "I'm the Could've-Been King."

With a swift lunge, he buried an invisible blade of pure concept in the Colonel's guts. "And I don't like you, Dios."

Dios' eyes bulged as the King tore the infinitly sharp blade from his abdomen. As he toppled to the ground, the King threw his arms wide in front of the stunned Guardsmen. "VAE VICTUS!" he roared.

---

The battle had been short and bloody. These Guardsmen had never fought in the Time War, and were accustomed to conflicts involving memetic weaponry and causal disruptions, not to physical violence. Although well trained, they were individually no match for Malekirith of the Red Branch or for the Could've-Been King and his force of Neverweres and Might-Have-Beens.

This is not to say the battle was one-sided. The Chancellary Guard was well-trained, after all, and they had numbers on their side.

Malekirith leaned against the stone wall of the shrine, listening to the fading roar the TARDISes as the Time Lords retreated. Much of his finery had been burnt away by stazer fire, leaving his skin blackened and oozing. His left arm hung limply, more char than flesh. "That," he croaked, "That was a glorious fight."

The Could've-Been King looked down at the Sidhe warrior. He'd escaped serious harm, mostly due to his habit of teleporting around the field and the fact that he'd spent more time directing his troops than actually fighting. But he was scorched and limping. "You did look like you were enjoying yourself."

"I did."

They looked at each other in silence for a moment.

"I don't think you're in any shape for our duel, though," the King said.

"I fear not," Malekirith croaked. "And yet, having challenged you, honor demands..."

"That's stupid."

The Sidhe stared at the Time Lord with his one good eye. "How? You insult me, now?"

"No. But I am pointing out that, if you try and fight me like this, I will kill you. And that will prove nothing." Malekirith's good eye narrowed, and the King lifted an eyebrow in return. "Please. You know I'm telling the truth. So, how about this: let's agree to meet here again in a year and a day, and we can merrily set to trying to kill each other then. That way, you still get your duel and I don't have to stab a man that's three-quarters dead."

Malekirith stared at him for several long minutes, then started choking. It was several seconds before the King realized it was laughter. "I accept!" the Sidhe said. "I have not heard it said that the Puck - for all his faults - is ever foresworn. I shall see you here in a year and a day."

They clasped hands. "Do you need a lift somewhere?" the King asked.

"Nay," croaked Malekirith. "I shall rest a while, then gather my strength and wend my way home. And where are you bound?"

The Could've-Been King shrugged. "Dunno."

There was a soft pop, and a goblin appeared. "My lord the Could've-Been King?"

The King blinked in surprise. "Yes..?" he said, cautiously.

"I bear a message for you, from the Mother of Time."

Confused, he accepted the message scroll and read it. As he did, his features moved from expressions of alarm, to confusion, to delight. Finally, he lept into the air with a loud hoot of sheer joy.

"Good news?" asked Malekirith.

"The best!" exclaimed the Could've-Been King enthusiasitically, rolling up the scroll. "I'm going to the Labyrinth!"

And with that, he was gone.

Malekirith and the goblin looked at each other. "In my experience," the sidhe warrior said slowly, "that is not ordinarily a cause for celebration."

The goblin looked at him for a moment longer, then made a vulgar gesture and vanished.