Petticoats ripple around my legs like waves trying to escape the hoopskirt. Wet-pebble shoes peep out underneath as I walk to the engine room. The weight enforces slowness on me, a welcome break from a life spent running. A scarf of sapphire silk cover all of my face but my eyes.

The Doctor glances up from the console, brushing his long, white dress shirt off a dial. Another bowtie compliments his dark pants. "Well, what a beautiful waterfall, Melody Pond." His eyes blink through aviator goggles.

"Aren't you going to dress up?"

"This is my costume, can't you tell?"

"What, are you going as yourself?"

"Don't be ridiculous, that would be absurd." He grabs a black trench coat off the railing and spreads his arms. "Behold, the penguin!"

"You look absolutely ridiculous," River announces as she comes in. From lips to eyebrows, her face is hidden behind a feline mask, with cat ears poking through her tangled hair. A twitching tail attached to a black jumpsuit completes her costume.

"Oh, shut up. Didn't know the wardrobe had a cat costume, though," he comments.

"And what are you supposed to be, some Victorian childf? It's…cute," she sniffs. "Really cute."

I let one of her responses snap out. "And you make a wonderful animal."

"Remember our deal."

I turn away, enjoying the swish of my skirt on the glass floor. "Doctor, if you would open the door for me? My skirt is getting in the way."

"Ah. Right." The Doctor scrambles over the stair railing and runs to open the door. "Here we are then; welcome to the masquerade, milady."

"Doctor, you are going to take off those ridiculous goggles, aren't you?" River crosses her arm. "I refuse to be seen with a raccoon."

"No, no, not a raccoon—a penguin." He pulls the goggles down. "And if you don't want to come, that's fine with me. Melody can help me."

River mutters something under her breath, but I can guess what she's thinking. What help will she be?

He pushes the doors open. "May I have the pleasure of escorting you to the ball?"

"Why certainly, sir."

He loops his elbow through mine. "Onwards, then. Are you coming, River?"

"A gentlemen should never leave a lady waiting." She steps up and takes his other arm. "I accept your offer of an escort."

The three of us step out of the TARDIS into the ballroom. The Doctor breaks free of River to snap his fingers at the TARDIS, which closes the doors instantly. "Remote control, only without the remote! Isn't that cool?"

"Wonderful, Sweetie." River sighs. "Now, what were we here for?"

Madame Kovarian filled our memory with millenniums of Earth history, emphasizing the Doctor's interest in the planet. But knowing about the Byzantium Empire or Bowie Base 1 isn't the same as seeing it, and nothing in the word 'masquerade' prepared me for the garden of fabrics, jewels, and colors.

"Liz Ten was having some problems—well, not actually problems, not yet, more like concerns, worries, possible pickles."

"And what are you supposed to do about it?"

"Just poke around and see what comes out. Go and wander off and get trapped and then we'll know exactly what we're up against. At least, that's what normally happens," he admits.

River crosses her arms. "That's your great plan?"

"Plan? Who said anything about plans? Plans are boring. What we have here is an adventure."

"Excuse me," a gentleman in a 17th-century frock and breeches taps me on the shoulders. "Since your friends are otherwise occupied, might I request you for the next dance?"

"Friends?" I glance at River, resolute as an iron statue.

"Well, one does not wish to presume at a social function. Are any of you married, by chance?"

"Married!" The Doctor gasped. "No, most certainly not married."

"My apologies, Mr…"

"Oh, call me the Doctor, just the Doctor. "

"Doctor, do you mind if I have a dance with your friend?"

"Why don't we let Melody decide that? What do you think, Melody?"

"I don't know how to dance," I whisper.

"It's easy—I'll show you." He bends his knees like he's going to sit down, swaying back and forth. He runs forward seven steps, thrusts his head forward, wiggles it back and forth and folds his hands into fists, rotating them in circles.

The gentleman steps back.

The Doctor ignores him, making a sweeping gesture from the ceiling to the floor and back again. After pointing at the ceiling a few times, he spins around, bows to me and adjusts his bowtie. "That's how you dance, Miss Melody Pond."

"I've had enough of this," River huffs. "While you children play, I'm going to get some serious work done." She disappears between a duchess and a playing card, tail twitching. The gentleman has also disappeared into the crowd.

"I guess that leaves the two of us," The Doctor grins. "So, how about that dance?"

"I think I'd rather watch, if you don't mind." Everyone moves so quickly and gracefully, knowing their role in making order from chaos. One woman brushes by in a slender blue dress, olive mantle, and elaborate train printed with sapphire and aqua blotches ringed in copper ovals shading to olive. Our eyes met for a moment before the dance sweeps her away.

I edge forward, trying to follow her, but dancers stream around me. Like a leaf on the tide, I cannot resist the motion. They break into partners; I face someone clad in green from head to toe. Only brown eyes move behind his mask. "I do not believe we've met before," he says. "Where are you from?"

The question, as much as the rhythm, confuses me.

"Have you ever danced before?"

"No, I'm afraid not." I miscount the steps forward; my heel lands on his toes. "I'm sorry, really I am."

"It was nothing."

I blush behind the scarf. Step, step, twirl. Step, step, twirl.

"You obviously have had some training."

"Not in dancing."

"No, but you move with purpose. Just watch the way I move, and match your steps to mine."

Like unarmed combat. Except I'm not trying to kill him. "I'll try."

The tempo speeds up, triumphant and eager. Side, side, back, back. Twirl, bow. Backwards, then repeat. Music whispers the rhythm to my trembling limbs.

The notes die away. My partner bows. "Thank you for the honor."

"And thank you for the help."

The next round is faster, a whirling storm of spins, lines, partners, trios. The world spins like a kaleidoscope.