The Valeyard raised his hands, ready for the coup d’etat…
“I think not…” the seventh Doctor said.
The eighth broke into a massive grin. “Of course…”
The Valeyard stared at them. “What?”
“You don’t remember?” the eighth Doctor asked. “Such a shame… The Black Guardian is the embodiment of Darkness and Chaos in Time… Chaos. Discord. Who else do we know who embodies Discord?”
The sixth Doctor started smiling. “Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear… Looks like you’ve been taken for a ride, Failyard, me old mucker. That’s not the Black Guardian…”
“…That’s Eris.” The fourth Doctor smirked. “And quite frankly… you’ve been out-planned…”
“You didn’t realise?” the eighth remarked. “I thought you would have remembered what happened when we experienced this… and chose to work with Eris knowingly. We know our hostess’ Earth identity, so naturally you do too… But you didn’t remember what happened. You didn’t learn. You let yourself be used like a puppet. Again.”
“You’re the best his dark side can come up with? You’re even more of an idiot than he is!” Compassion slung at him.
“Compassion… how many times have I told you not to take those reviews so seriously?” the eighth Doctor grumbled. “But she’s right. This is remarkably stupid. Even for us…”
“Eris planned this all,” the sixth said. “Set you up to support Pro-Fun, instead of destroying it. She knew you’d never believe her if she said she wanted Cyberspace destroyed…”
“But things aren’t over yet…” the seventh murmured. “Too many untied strands for my liking…”
“We expected better of you, m’boy…” the first said.
The Valeyard’s crystal had fallen to the floor. “How… How… dare…” He blinked. “Where’s Gallifrijan? I checked on that pompous fool but ten minutes ago…”
“But if you didn’t…” the fifth Doctor began.
“…and Eris didn’t…” Compassion continued.
“Then that means…” the seventh Doctor completed.
Well, was about to complete.
But he was interrupted.
Alryssa, with one last regretful glance in Fitz’s direction, hurled the largest cream pie yet seen in this story straight at the Valeyard’s face.
The Valeyard reached out and casually plucked the pie out of midair.
Confidence restored, he sneered.
For good measure, he gave vent to a derisive burst of evil laughter.
“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”
Alryssa looked at the expression on the Doctors’ faces. “I was getting bored. So sue me.”
A crowd of revellers who had got lost in the many corridors of the Capitol appeared through a door behind him. Some were armed with custard pies, some with balloons, some with musical instruments. Seeing the Valeyard’s unprotected back, none hesitated for a moment.
A large owl, who had been perched in the rafters of the barn, watching with great amusement, swooped down and dropped an egg, which she regretfully admitted was never going to hatch, directly on the Valeyard’s skullcap. The stench was horrendous.
…and as the confusion reached its height, the doors to the High Council room burst open.
Again.
Fitz winced. “I really wish someone would leave those open…”
Rassilon, First of the Time Lords and President of the High Council, stood in the doorway.
He looked at the massive chaos filling the room, and harrumphed.
The world seemed to stop. Every eye in the room found itself fixed on him.
“I think,” Rassilon said carefully, measuring out each word, “it is time for the Explanations to be given. Don’t you agree… my Lady?”
Compassion’s body froze. Convulsed. And impossibly opened into a 20-foot high doorway.
And Eris stepped out.
Every one of those present agreed, after, that the explanation Eris gave had been crystal clear and perfectly understandable. Any one of them would however confess, if asked, that he (or she) (or it) couldn’t quite put that explanation into words.
Perhaps that was only to be expected of an explanation from Eris.
The first thing anyone remembered clearly after that was Compassion, back to her chubby red-headed self, giving a sigh of relief. “Whew!” she said. “That’s better!”
Eris and Rassilon were nowhere to be seen.
“What will you do now?” the sixth Doctor asked the Valeyard. Of all his incarnations, he felt closest to this one, even if the connection was less than pleasant.
“I think,” the Valeyard said, looking him in the eye, “I may just do what you almost did, and be a hermit – for a while.” Humming to himself, he went into the Council Chamber, and closed the door behind him.
“Do you think he really has changed?” Eloise asked the sixth Doctor.
He shrugged. “Hard to tell,” he said. “I’ve always found myself rather confusing…”
Eloise sighed. “I think it’s the same for all of us,” she said.
The eighth Doctor looked around. “Well, that’s nearly over…”
Thomas frowned. “But there’s…”
“…just one thing he doesn’t understand…” Alryssa completed wearily.
Thomas looked determined. “Yes. Like… if the Valeyard shares your memories, how come he didn’t know he’d lose?”
“Maybe he did…” put in the sixth Doctor. “He always had a self-defeating streak… I blame it on self-hatred, myself.”
“Or maybe,” Eloise ventured, hopefully, “he realized that he didn’t really lose. Mixed up as the Valeyard is, he is still the Doctor at heart. And the Doctor would never want to see the creative energy of true Chaos replaced with the stagnant darkness of the Black Guardian.” She turned to her eight assembled guests of honour. “Am I not right, gentlemen?” she asked, with a slight bow and a wink.
“By George!” the fourth Doctor said, with a flourishing wave of his hand, his thick curls bouncing. “I think she’s got it!”
“What now?” Donald butted in.
The eighth Doctor frowned. “Well, I think that’s everything tied up… If our hostess doesn’t mind, we’ll return the party to Earth, back where all this began…”
Eloise nodded.
As everyone, with much muttering, groaning, and sighs of relief, entered the Pro-Fun TARDIS, the real Lord Gallifrijan burst into the room.
The doors of the Pro-Fun TARDIS closed. There was a wheezing, groaning sound.
And the Pro-Fun TARDIS dematerialised.
Gallifrijan turned to the man who’d followed him in. “They’ve left, my lord… And after I went to all that trouble to show them the ultimate Banana Daiquiri…” He started sobbing.
The other man patted him on the back sympathetically. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Gallifrijan… Gallifrey’s future wasn’t meant to meet its past…” He paused. “Maybe I should pass that as a law of time…”
Gallifrijan had heard this before. “Yes, my lord… But as tribute for releasing me from that time loop, perhaps you would care to taste the Daiquiri…”
Rassilon winced. “Maybe another time, Gallifrijan…”
He turned to leave. “Oh, and Doctor… You’re still on the list of Names…”
The eighth Doctor frowned. “That’s odd… I could have sworn someone was talking about me…” He shrugged. “Ah, well…”