Flattened away where a human could never find her, the Doctor took out the chalk she never used. It was the sort of thing that would get you burned as a witch through most of time and space, no matter what gender it looked like you might be. Too much was already on fire already, she'd thought, for her to start burning as well.
She drew a blue circle in the air, chalk sticking to air in a totally impossible way. The space within the circle grew thick like bubbling milk, and after a while the face of a man appeared. He was stern and wide and dressed in ridiculous robes, and he did not look pleased to see the Doctor at all.
"This is a call from the High President of Gallifrey!" said the Doctor, feeling incredibly stupid. "The bell rings once, but the bells now ring for us all! I call the fourth article of the Cloister sanction! I call for a Council of War! Also," she said as an afterthought, "who exactly are you?"
"I'm the Regent," said the man wearily, "The supreme ruler of Gallifrey."
"No you're not! That what I am! Weren't you listening to me just then? I memorised all the words!"
"Not very accurately. Look, Doctor. It might be that the people think of you as their leader. They think all sorts; it's the kind of thing we encourage. But the day to day running of our people's affairs, well. It needed delegation."
"And of course that delegation," sighed the Doctor, "would have to come from you."
"It was all above board. There are strict rules, for what to do in an unsuitable presidency. We call them the Doctor protocols."
"Okay."
"We call them that because of you."
"Okay." The Doctor glowered. "I don't care about that; not really. It's not the power that I want. But the Daleks are here, and they're more dangerous than I think they've ever been. And I'm worried that if these ones get going… that it's going to be worse than the Time War. That there might not even be a war; that they'll just win."
"That's the sort of thing you always say. But it isn't what happens in practice. The Daleks don't win; the Daleks never win. Sometimes they hurt us, and sometimes they wound us greatly. But we've made very sure that history's arc bends right towards the Lords of Time."
"So it's a no, then, is it? Nice to hear from you, supreme ruler, afraid we're doing our own sort of ruling today. Ours isn't the only planet I president for, y'know," she said, "and on the other ones they've usually got some manners—"
"I don't doubt it. If I'm honest, I've never much cared for that kind of thing. All that politics on alien planets. I find it extremely boring."
"I should've known you wouldn't help," said the Doctor. "It's what happened last time, isn't it? It's what our people do. You sat and you watched and you just did nothing, 'till the day the Daleks came for you!"
"Strong words," said the Regent, "from a woman who ran away."
"And that's not a mistake that I'm willing to make again!"
"But there isn't going to be an again. It's the threats of our future we need to focus on; it's no use obsessing over the past. We won, Doctor."
"And there were those of us who thought it might not matter in the end," said the Doctor. "Who thought winning one war… that it might not be enough."
"You're talking about you and your friend? Who drove themselves mad thinking all of this was inevitable?"
"The Monk's not my friend."
"That's not how she'd have it."
"Regent," said the Doctor, trying one last time. "The Fell Siren is ringing. Everything we've fought against; everything we are. It all means nothing if we're not going to hold the line."
"Our strategy against the Daleks has always been one of containment. Fairy tales for metal monsters aren't going to go changing that."
"And what will?"
"Evidence, Doctor. Evidence, proper thinking, and a plan. Maybe then the High Council will move."
The Doctor looked up through the bulk of the city to where a giant billboard stood. It was flooded with bright and artificial light, picking out the word "Exterminate!" in its jolly font.
"We're Time Lords," she said, "but no one cares what a Lord thinks anymore. And now I'm not sure there's a whole lot of time that's left."
"Well, you've used up all of yours with me" said the Regent in his bored old way. "I have real work to do, that's not just listening to paranoid ramblings. There's a lot of administration to do when your Head of State gets bored and runs away. A lot of convincing other species we're still dignified."
He glared at her.
"Best wishes, Lord President. And goodbye."
The circle of chalk fizzed and dissolved, washing away like water had run down a blackboard.
The Doctor swore to herself, kicking a wall while pretending it was a face. The bad plan had failed, as she was almost certain it would. That only left the worse plan, which was terrible even if it succeeded. But it didn't matter, when the Daleks were involved. A very bad plan would always be better than doing absolutely nothing at all.
The president of several worlds sighed to herself, very aware she had no power left now at all.