AN- Hello! Here's another with Romana, this time meeting Ten, directly after Waters of Mars in his timeline. Hope you enjoy, and leave a review if you feel like it! :)

"Madame President, I really don't like the idea of you going on these missions yourself. Some of them are quite dangerous, and-"

Romana silenced the technician with a sharp eye boring into his soul.

"I am the President of Gallifrey," she replied tightly. "I fought in the war, and I won't let some silly old thing like a bit of danger keep me grounded."

One hundred years had passed since Romana's first postwar visit to the Prime Universe, and she had tirelessly continued her work on restoring Gallifrey to the planet's former glory. She had created a whole new generation of Loomchildren who were educated to be more sympathetic to those that were not of their kind, and although she knew that these things would take Time, she was not giving up. Not ever. She had made a promise to herself and to Gallifrey that she would raise a better world out of the ashes of war, and that promise could not go broken. And now, she had introduced a new stratagem to help recreate a greater Gallifrey: the return to the Prime Universe.

Ever since the Doctor had locked the planet away in the pocket universe, the lack of Vortex had grated on every single Time Lord's nerves. It was nearly painful at first, but they'd adapted, albeit begrudgingly. In the first years after the war, there had been something akin to mass panic, as everyone realized at once that their Temporal Eyes had been closed indefinitely. It was soon linked to the lack of Time Vortex, and that was when Romana introduced the resolution in the High Council to move the planet back into its former Galactic Coordinates of the Prime Universe.

But they were only in the initial stages of the plan. They first had to find a Time period that was far, far away from the scourges of the Time War. Anything too close, and they would alert the many races who still despised the Time Lords for their many crimes during the War. Romana knew they could amend those wrongs, but it would take Time for all those other species to forgive.

Thus, the missions. Teams were sent out from Gallifrey in TARDISes through tiny rips that had accumulated on the fabric of their pocket universe in the years since they had been shoved into it. Little tears in the universe were all they needed. The TARDIS could slip through, and they surveyed the Time period as well as the sentiment toward Time Lords in that period.

At first, Romana had appointed her best generals to lead the missions, but after seeing them come back from one particularly bad mission bloodied and very near regenerating, she swore to herself that she would supervise as many of these quests as she possibly could.

Hence the chagrin of the technicians. And her top advisors, and all her generals, and…

She rolled her eyes briefly, though not before angling her head away from anyone who could see. She fought on the front lines during the war. She very well could handle herself, and anything that was thrown at her.

She stepped into the TARDIS, feeling the consciousness embrace her mind. She had never grown too accostumed with any one TARDIS, but they all seemed to enjoy her presence fairly well, so she accepted that.

The others on her team took their positions at the console, and Romana smiled. Some of them, a few of the newer ones appointed to be pilots, appeared nervous, and she couldn't say she blamed them. Most of the newer pilots were nearly children with few memories of the Prime Universe. Some hadn't even gotten the chance to look into the Untempered Schism. Romana pitied them and envied them, for they were nearing the age that they would go mad with the power the Schism would bring them, making it far too dangerous for them to gaze into the raw expanse of Time and Space. None of them could regenerate. None of them had titles.

"All right," Romana said, her tone commanding, but she smiled at all of them with warmth. The last thing she wanted to do was make them feel intimidated by her presence. "Let's get started. Solandrium, the helmic regulator?"

"Ready, Madame President."

"Paladvoran, are the coordinates accurate?"

"Yes, Madame President."

"Riandra, the Time Continuum meter?"

"Steady, Madame President."

"And Alondvora, how are our shields?"

"Primed, Madame President."

Romana surveyed all of them quickly, before nodding with a quick smile.

"Then I believe we are ready for dematerialization." The Time Lady in charge said, keeping her voice steady as she released the handbrake, pulling back several levers while at the same Time depressing buttons of many colors. She pulled down the dematerialization lever. "Let's be off."

The TARDIS jerked awake, coughing violently into life as it attempted miserably to dematerialize into something that clearly was not the proper Time Vortex, but an engineered replica. The ship despised it, but she clearly knew she was going somewhere better, for she worked quickly to move them towards the fissure.

Everything shuddered as they hit the fissure, the lights flickering woefully as they passed through the sliver of the Void that just barely separated the Prime Universe from the pocket. Several of the crew members lost their balance, their knees buckling underneath them as they struggled to stay upright in the quaking ship. And then, silence.

Romana sighed as the feeling of her Timesense was restored to her. She met the eyes of Alondvora, the latter Time Lady grinning widely. She had been one of the last Gallifreyans to be dragged up to the Schism at the unthinkable age of two, forced to stare at it as a last ditch effort by the High Council to create as many battle-ready Time Lords and Ladies as possible. Now, she had access to her Temporal Eye for the very first Time, and Romana could only imagine what it felt like.

But then, something changed. Both Alondvora and Romana cringed as something… dreadful attacked their Timesenses simultaneously. Alondvora clutched her head and keeled over, while Romana, though used to this sort of Temporal disturbance from the Time War, merely grimaced, gritting her teeth as her lips curled. Immediately, she established her telepathic barriers, blocking out any telepathy or Temporal signatures. She felt numb again without the senses, but the latter was nothing she hadn't gotten used to in the pocket.

"What- what is it, Madame President?" Palandvoran asked nervously. "What's… wrong with Alondvora?"

"She and I are the only ones here who are sensitive to Time," she murmured, going over to kneel by the woman, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "There's a fixed point that's been broken here." She took Alondvora's face in her hands and brushed her thumbs carefully over the woman's temples. Alondvora sighed, closing her eyes, her body going limp. "She isn't used to feeling it yet. She shouldn't ever have to get used to it, actually, but that's beside the point. She'll only be in pain if she comes with us. We'll have to leave her behind."

The other three Time Lords looked hesitant, but none said anything of it. Romana sprung up from her crouch, turning to the door.

"I wouldn't blame any of you if you chose to stay behind," the President spoke, partly as an honest option, and partly as a test. "There's a fixed point, broken out there. Anything could be happening out there."

There was clear hesitance behind her, and Romana could almost feel the shared glances, to which she smiled a little. She had shown the same hesitance in her early days of leading, and she had even felt it inwardly when she was chosen to help find the Key to Time so long ago.

"No," Riandra was the first to speak. Romana turned around, her expression now blank. "No, we'll come." Internally, Romana's stomach leapt in satisfaction, though she made sure to display none of it openly. "We're a team, and we're already one down. We have to join you."

"Good," Romana said, half of her focus going towards blocking out the piercing sensation of the shattered fixed point rubbing at the back of her mind. "Now, let's go. We must fix this."

Romana led them outside, her military boots crunching in pristine white snow. She could tell they were on Earth, perhaps sometime in the middle 21st Century. It appeared to be a flat complex, middle class more likely than not. She motioned for Riandra to watch behind her, and she stepped quietly away from the TARDIS with her team. Her hand drifted to her gun, prepared to fire in the case of a threat.

But nothing could have prepared her for the sight just around the corner.