Tegan glanced down at her dress and sighed. It was not what she would have chosen for herself, but it did have its charm she supposed. She could fool herself until she turned and looked in the mirror, she supposed.

"Oh stop fussing, Tegan, it looks lovely," Gillian answered, appearing at her side in the mirror.

"It feels drafty," Tegan answered, frowning. In the mirror, she glanced at her own skin, visible through the lace of the dress. She had worn short skirts before, she thought, but never anything that was skin tight and looked painted on. She met Gillian's blue eyes in the silver backed glass. Her eyes were heavily kohled, her lips were a warm coral and her black hair was arranged in a mass of curls that touched at her shoulders. Both women wore metallic and black lace that curved and hugged every inch of their bodies from their breasts to their upper thighs.

With a smile, Gillian touched at the hair that was combed slightly into Tegan's face. "I think your Lord Theta will be beside himself when he sees you in this. You haven't worn anything like this before, have you?"

Tegan grit her teeth and shook her head. "No…Gillian…we have talked about this earlier today. No, I haven't worn anything like this with him, and I think you keep bringing the situation up to rib me about it."

"Well…I do find it interesting, Tegan. I would have been with him long before now. Did you know him in a previous incarnation?"

"I was with him when he regenerated," Tegan answered. "Look…shouldn't we be going?"

"That explains his appearance, then; I knew it. You must have influenced him in some way. He looks so young." Gillian pulled at a couple of her curls. "Haven't you noticed…all of the Gallifreyans here are rather old looking…except for Theta and that lovely Time Lady."

Tegan turned abruptly and held out her hand to the side to get Gillian to move. "You haven't talked any more about her, but you seem intrigued about her…why?"

"She was very young…looked like she was maybe in her early to late twenties and was dressed incredibly well…held herself with that typical Gallifreyan grace and arrogance. But so tied to the Terran men…" Gillian shook her head. "It surprised me. But to tell you the truth, I saw her with Lord Alpha as well, now that I think about it."

Tegan held open the door, and hoisted the dress higher on her chest. "Really? Now that is interesting," she muttered.

"How so?"

"A Time Lord with a Gallifreyan woman," Tegan said, trying to bury her curiosity in sarcasm. "Imagine that."

**

"What is this place?" the Doctor asked, sitting back on his cushion. He crossed his legs and surveyed the room. "Not a meeting room, surely."

Beta grinned widely as he slid into his chair. "Oh, no, Theta. No, not at all. No…this…to borrow a Terran saying…is where the magic begins. You did clear your roster for the rest of the day, correct?"

The Doctor nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "As did Tegan…I hope. The women are to join us here, are they not?" He appeared startled as the lights in the room dimmed even more, a stark contrast from the mid-day sun outside.

"The women are the magic, Theta."

The Doctor frowned. "I see. Where are Alpha and Psi?"

"They will join us later. They had a make-up match for Tribalunt with two others."

With a pair of lifted eyebrows, the Doctor stated: "That is a shame; I did so have other questions to ask Alpha about the Main Light. I have to admit this business there with the Senator has aroused my curiosity." He glanced around as a crew of flimsy silk curtains appeared and created a small private space. It enclosed he, Beta and two others, separating them from the room at large and the rest of the Time Lords that had been in the large room. He could hear others, but the sounds were quieted.

With a sigh, he asked: "Beta, what have you gotten me into now?"

"Nothing more than your little trick with the cats and the President did for me."

The Doctor groaned. "Shall I call for medical help for myself now and save time?"

"Watch and wait…" Beta sipped at his mid-day wine and smiled. "And why the interest in Alpha, Thete? You have never been one to talk with him. You two are quite the enemies."

"Well…cousin rivalry is expected and he does not care for me, my methods, my lifestyle, my choice of callings…and never has," the Doctor answered somewhat heatedly. He rubbed at the back of his neck. "And besides, I do wish to understand this nasty business at the Main Light, and he was there."

"As was I, Thete," Beta sat back and studied his younger cousin. "You and that curiosity of yours, Thete," he shook his head. "It will be the end of all your lives. As I saw it…" he sat forward, serious, "there was a viciousness about the Terrans. You know their race…heated and strong…vibrant. They showed it that night. There was high drink, high tempers and high expectations that something would happen. I suspect and expect that he was shot, assassinated by one of his own, Thete. I do not believe that it extends beyond that. There is no motive for anything else. My advice is to have fun…forget that business. There is nothing we can do…for any of us to return to it is against the law and for you to return would be a temporal paradox."

The Doctor steepled his hands by his mouth and nodded. "I know. It is like a whodunit for me. You know how they attract me like magnets."

Beta nodded. "I have the psyche scars to show for it," he chuckled, but quieted as the curtains around them rustled. "You are here through tomorrow, aren't you, old man?"

"Of course."

"Good…we will talk of this tomorrow."

"Not tonight?" the Doctor asked as the curtains were pulled apart by a small hand.

"No, my dear fellow. Your mind will be on other things, I guarantee it."

**

Grady shifted in his seat, jostling the arm of Turlough. The boy grimaced and turned to the inspector. "Anything?"

"No, you?"

The two men were seated in a large viewing room almost back to back. In front of each of them were four screens. Turlough had his arms crossed over his shirt-clad chest and was frowning intently while staring at the said screens. With a sigh, as Grady shifted again, Turlough rubbed a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. These confounded things, he thought, were taking a toll on his sanity and his eyesight.

He moved the chair roughly across the floor and rose, to walk to a table where two officers were carefully sorting papers. The unsorted pile appeared to be growing smaller as the others were growing rapidly. Oh joy, he grunted, it appears that my work is just beginning.

Turlough rolled his shoulders, rubbed at the back of his neck, and prepared to walk from the room to glance out the windows, just to reassure himself of sunlight. Besides, sunlight though the metal and crystal architecture of Paradise Prime would be beautiful, he thought with a smile. He had just moved toward the door when Grady's surprised yelp stopped him.

"What? What is it?" Turlough demanded.

"I don't believe it."

The boy crossed the room quickly, kicking a chair out of the way. Patience and subtlety had never been his strong point. He made fists and leaned forward on the desk to stare at the screen. "Did you find him?"

"Yes. Incredible. He was in a back room. With a brunette that could be his daughter." Grady said, hestitantly, quietly, as if hiding the shame that being found with a hooker in a back room while married could and would generate. Turlough glanced at the four screens, finding the one in particular to which Grady was referring. The Senator, he guessed, was seated in a chair, a young pretty girl astride on his legs. As they watched, his hands ran over the girl's back and thighs. It was very erotic, but dangerous as well as they watched the girl rise suddenly and turn. The Senator rose from the chair, surprised, aghast as the woman pulled a gun from seemingly thin air and trained it on his chest. She was very close to him when she pulled the trigger and the image dissolved in a sea of bright aqua and orange plasma and light.

"Gods…" Grady breathed.

Turlough grunted, agreeing with the uselessness of act.

As the image cleared, the woman was seen standing over the Senator, a small smile on her expressive lips. She wore a short black skirt and revealing shirt. She turned, adjusting the hemline of her dress and dismantled the gun into its basic parts. Turlough sighed as the woman moved toward the camera. Grady grunted. As the girl was almost ready to pass under the camera range and out of sight, Turlough grabbed the elder man's arm. "Hold it…back the video about five seconds and freeze it on highest quality."

Grady did as beckoned and stared as Turlough did at the woman. They began talking at the same time.

"What is that?"

"Good grief."

"That looks like the sign of…"

"Rassilon," Grady agreed. "It is the horns of Rassilon…a calling card of an Academy on Gallifrey."

Turlough moaned. "Oh blast!"

Grady was already turning away to bark out orders. "Smith? I want a clarification of the video here…digital…I want it clear enough to use for identification purposes. Klien? I want Dr. Jenkins up here, pronto. And lad? I think that we might as well call the Doctor and get him back here…"

Turlough groaned, and thought in his own lightning quick manner. "Something is not adding up right here."

**

Tegan entered the small room with what she hoped was an aura of self-confidence. She felt ill at ease in this get up, and worried that the Doctor would be embarassed about it at the very least, repulsed at the very most. She turned her back on the men to tuck the curtains around the area. Gillian was happily greeting Beta and the Doctor. Beta, for his part, was quietly welcoming her and complementing her on her clothes. The Doctor, however, was completely silent.

She turned, lifting her chin, daring him embarrass her. But when she met his eyes, she saw a look of shocked interest. His mouth was slightly open and he seemed to be panting more than usual. He stared for a moment and then rose to tower over her. "Excuse my manners, Tegan," he stated, his voice quieter and grittier than usual. "Hello. How was your morning?"

"Busy," she answered, bluntly. "Spas are bloody bothersome."

"Are they?" he asked, rhetorically.

She shook her head. "Oh…the pampering is wonderful…the things they want to do to you is excellent…but when you are done, they expected you to look like something different than when you went in." She frowned. "And don't get me started on the dress shoppe. If you can call that shop a shop and not a meat market."

"Ah…your new dress, hmm?" the Doctor sighed. He took a step back and almost against his will, he returned his glance from her face to her body. His voice was higher in tone when he began to talk again. "Yes…well…that is Gallifreyan culture for you, Tegan. You are a walking example of it now."

The others were sitting on the cushions, talking lowly amongst themselves. Occasionally, Tegan would hear Gillian's light giggle. She had her back to them; she faced the Doctor fully. His eyes honed in on her upper chest and his gaze continued downward from there. She felt open and vulnerable with him watching her like that; she hated feeling open or vulnerable or anything other than in control. With a squint and a tilt back of her head, she tried to catch the Doctor's eyes. Please look at them and not my body, Doc…leave me some decency here, she pleaded silently. When he met her eyes, almost sheepishly, she continued to talk. "And how was your morning?"

It was Beta that answered. "Eventful. Theta is now the new champion of Trebalunt for Lungbarrow I am happy to say. Please…Thete…Tegan…sit. Our meal cannot start until you join us. My dear…do you wish for some wine?"

She opened her mouth, but the Doctor shook his head almost imperceptively. "No, Tegan…you don't. Trust me."

Tegan continued to frown and shook her head. "No. Thank you." With a level of control she had not felt often in her young life, she turned to face the table. Beta's eyes were raking over her form. She fought the urge to kick or punch him, or at the least, slap him, but settled for forming fists. She enjoyed looking beautiful as much as any other woman, but to feel like an particularly appetizing dish was not on the top of her list. "Lord Beta…hello." She plastered her air-hostess smile on her lips and forced her voice to be even and as devoid of anger as she could manage. "Forgive my ignorance of what is going on…Theta has not been…"

"Forthcoming…" the Doctor answered, stepping to her side and facing his cousin as well. "…in what is to occur. I admit, Tegan," he leaned toward her, once again the incorrigible Time Lord and not a dangerous being of another gender that he had been just seconds previous. "I admit that I do not quite understand what is going on here either."

"You didn't tell her, fairy?" Beta asked, addressing Gillian who sat between his spread thighs and legs.

"Oh no. I didn't want to spoil the surprise."

"Well then, we are in a quandary, aren't we. If I had told Thete, he would have insisted on not coming. Neither of them have an idea of the fun for the afternoon." Beta answered. "Sit, please…comfortably, Thete. If it will help you, I will tell you that we are having the Ultilain lunch."

Three years of familiarity had made the Doctor's small reactions to things as interpretable as his words to her. She could often tell when he was angry by the way that he would shift his legs or at the way that he would shove his hands in his pockets; could tell when he was manic by the way that his eyes would sparkle and his brows would arch high over his blue eyes. So it was when he sighed and tensed, Tegan could tell that he was shocked. "Ultilain? Really, Beta."

"I insist. You need to have some fun…to be reminded of Time Lord culture. It is an important part of your heritage," Beta said, sitting forward to chide his younger cousin playfully. "Or have all your forays to Earth finally entrenched you into their culture?"

The Doctor did not react to the chide in good humor. "I take my Time Lord heritage very seriously," he answered, punching the air with a finger. "You know that. I do take offense to that remark, Beta."

"All right, all right, old chap," Beta said easily, holding his hands up. "Then just relax…don't let it remind you of anything."

Tegan sensed the Doctor's agitation was getting worse and leaned back into his side and chest. She glanced up at him and was confronted with his dark blue eyes creased in worry. "Oh come on, Doc…its only a meal…" she tried to reassure him.

"I wonder if you will say that afterwards," he commented, harshly.

"It can't be any worse than Gallifreyan dancing," Tegan answered back, just as harshly.

"You think so," the Doctor said, somewhat agitated still. He grasped her arm and urged her towards the table so that she matched his strides. He glanced at Beta, at Gillian and then again at Tegan. Holding her eyes, he slid to a sitting position on the cushion and spread his legs. "Sit, Tegan…." He urged, patting the floor between his spread legs. "Between table and I, if you would be so kind."

Tegan frowned, knitting her brows together. "Surely next to you…"

Beta laughed, wholeheartedly. "Are you sure this lovely is not a sprite from ancient Gallifrey, Thete? She asks the same questions that have been debated for centuries. No…" he addressed Tegan. "No, Tegan-girl, next to him is not…well…acceptable. Enclosed in his frame…that is what the tradition calls for, and that is what is required. Sit my dear."

As Tegan folded her legs and sank to sit between the Doctor's outstretched legs with a deepening frown on her face, he addressed the other Time Lords at the table. "Again, forgive her naivety. I will lead her the rest of the way through this tradition."

Tegan adjusted herself, as hard as it was with her arms and legs either pressing the table or the Doctor's body in some way. "I see what you mean," she said to her friend out of the side of her mouth. "What are we going to do?"

Beta answered, avoiding the Doctor's grieved look: "We are going to eat. It is a meal that has been practiced for centuries on our planet…"

Gillian patted her Lord's arm and smiled. He let her continue. "It is like a marriage feast, Tegan. It is loads of fun…great gobs of it, if you like."

"Marriage?" Tegan asked, her voice loud and cracking in the room. The Doctor squeezed her arm, gently and then with more force as she continued to grouse. "But…"

"No…they don't," Gillian answered. "But they used to…ages ago. In a way that is…nothing like human marriages. They do, as we have discussed…have…trysts. This meal is used to help…liven…is that a good word for it?"

"Yes, fairy, liven is a good word. It livens the day and the weekend…you will enjoy it, Tegan."

The girl opened her mouth, but stopped as a pair of men approached the table with silver plates, trays and covered casseroles. She closed it with a snap as the Doctor slid his arm about her waist and drew her fully back into his chest as the men placed series of plates, goblets and utensils in front of them. "Oh no," she breathed.