"Come forward."

The young Time Lady took a deep breath and obeyed, closing the distance between her and the desk of the President. Like all Gallifrey's official rooms, the President's office changed its furniture and decoration according to who was in charge. At the moments, its walls were painted in gold, with some green stripes here and there; the desk too was gold, and at this centre was carved the presidential emblem, together with that of the Prydonian clan.

As he walked, the woman tried not to show how nervous she was. If her mates could see her now, they would have a good laugh: Romanadvoratnelundar, the Ice Queen, who faced every exam at the Academy without even breaking a sweat, who graduated with a triple first making it look like she was taking a stroll, now trembled before the President of Gallifrey. Not that she was really scared, she felt only some nervous excitement, completely understandable given the circumstances. It didn't happen any day that the President of the Supreme Council of Gallifrey and All Her Dominions, Holder of the Wisdom of Rassilon, Preserver of the Matrix, Guardian of the Legacy of Omega, summoned someone to a private meeting.

"Is anything the matter?" asked Borusa, lifting towards her his long, rectangular face, with the great nose and the little blue eyes at the centre of it. He dressed the presidential tunic, golden and white, and on his finger carried the ring with the seal of the President. Romanadvoratnelundar didn't know that face very well: the man who had been her mentor, Supreme Chancellor and Headmaster of the Academy, regenerated recently, and although this body was similar to the last one, nonetheless she could spot the differences.

"No, sir, why?"

"You're closing your hand in a fist, compulsively. You do that when you're not at ease. I know you well, my dear, I can see those things."

Damn!

"I would say you to relax, but given what I have to tell you, it may not be the best thing for you."

"Sir?" she asked, confused.

"I chose you for a mission of vital importance."

Romanadvoratnelundar's back straightened up at once, as if she had been whipped, and the girl almost saluted. "What should I do, sir?" asked, keeping her voice cool, as she collected the hands behind her back. Borusa gestured for her to sit down, then pressed a button on the desk. Behind him, a section of the wall moved up, revealing a giant screen. Borusa pressed two other buttons, and six stones of different colour appeared on it.

"Are you familiar with the story of the Infinity Stones?"

"Yes. They were created at the beginning of time, when ..."

"I didn't ask you to repeat it, this isn't an exam" Borusa interrupted her. "Although I am certain you'd be able to tell me the entire piece" added. Romanadvoratnelundar didn't answer, but the way she blushed was confirmation enough for the old man's suspicions: his former pupil, as usual, already knew everything there was to know.

"The CIA received intelligence about someone intending to retrieve them and use their power for their own ends."

"Do we know who?"

"Unfortunately not. Apparently it something due to happen a long time from now, which makes for a very long list of candidates."

"And so?"

"If the Stones were found and their power stored, consequences could be catastrophic. Therefore, myself and the CIA coordinator have decided to intervene before this could happen."

"Intervene?" asked Romanadvoratnelundar. "But our laws ..."

"There comes a time, my dear, where we, as Time Lords, have to put aside our policy of non-interference for a greater necessity. It doesn't happen often, but it is necessary. This is one of those times."

"I see" said Romanadvoratnelundar, somewhat hesitantly. As reasonable as it sounds, it still went against everything she had been thought. Time Lords were not supposed to interfere in other people's histories: their power was too great, and nothing good would ever come out of it. To act against this rule was considered high treason (unless you work for the Celestial Intervention Agency, that is).

A shiver ran down her spine, as the thought entered her mind, that Borusa was asking her to join the CIA. It wasn't something she would really want to. In all her years at the Academy, Romanadvoratnelundar's only wish was to become a politician, and give her own contribution to lead Gallifrey out of its crisis after the last terrible events, as the assassination of the last President and the twin invasion of the Vardans and the Sontarans. Why should she join the CIA? What did she care about other people?

"In short," Borusa continued, "we decided to send someone to collect the Stones before that happened."

"And you want to send me? Sir, I'd wish to protest. I don't doubt it's a task of great importance, but aside from the fact I have no idea how to move in the outer world ..."

"It's not you" Borusa cut her off. "Even though you would be most qualified, have some trust in yourself. No, you shall only assist and ... the control, in a way, the person we chose. You see, to avoid giving the impression Gallifrey wants the Stones for itself, we deemed it best not to send an official CIA agent."

"But we can't trust an outsider" Romanadovratnelundar objected. "It could be dangerous!"

"We don't. The envoy is still a Time Lord ... this Time Lord, to be precise."

Borusa pressed again the button for the scanner, and on the screen the images of four men appeared. The first one, on the top left of the screen, belonged to an elderly, serious-looking man, with long silver hair and a black jacket, whose folders he grabbed with his hands in a gesture of importance. At his right, on the top right of the screen, there was another man, shorter and younger, with funny mop black hair, wearing a black coat at least double his size; he had a bowtie on his collar, and his face was contorted into a satisfied grin. Under the old man, on the low left, she could see a third man: he looked almost as old as the first one, but he was tall and elegant, with white curls and a prominent nose. He wore a fancy green jacket with white ruffles. Finally, on the low right, a fourth man appeared, younger than the previous one. He too had curly hair, but his were light brown, and he carried around his neck an absurdly long scarf over a dark brown jacket and a yellow waistcoat.

"The Doctor" Romanadvoratnelundar whispered.

"The Doctor" Borusa confirmed. "I suppose you heard many stories about him, so let me tell you what is real about him. Yes, he stole a TARDIS and ran away in his original incarnation. The CIA caught him when he was in his second body, and he has been condemned to exile on Earth, while also being forced to regenerate in his third incarnation. During his exile, he carried on some unofficial missions for the CIA, and after his help in the Omega crisis, his exile has been lifted. Now, we only check on him from afar."

"Pardon me, sir, but wasn't he a suspect in the assassination of Pandad IV? And wasn't he the President, when Vardans first and then Sontarans attacked the Capitol?" she asked, fired up.

"Is it hostility I sense in your voice?"

"Sir, this man is a criminal! He broke every single rule of our society! He treaded each and every one of our values under his feet! He should have been sentenced to death, not to exile!"

"The decisions of the Council are not something your opinion is required about, and anyway, no deed of the Doctor has never been directed against Gallifrey. Sometimes his action endangered us, that is true, but he has always helped in fixing things. He acts on his own, but he has no malicious intent, and therefore he has my trust ... even if passed the Academy with a bare fifty-one per cent."

"Fifty-one?" asked Romanadvoratneldundar, amusedly. "But that's the minimum!"

"And it was his second attempt. Oh, I had to struggle with him at the Academy: he was impossible, absolutely impossible. But his hearts are in the right place, I grant you that. However, it is best to be sure his ... impulsivity does not create trouble."

Romanadvoratnelundar leaned against the chair. She wasn't sure what to think. All the business still seemed so foolish to her. Retrieving the Stones wasn't something she would term a good idea to begin with, but entrusting this task to the Doctor? A renowned criminal? It was sheer madness! How could they think it would work?

"Can I refuse the task, if I want to?" she dared asking.

"Sure."

Silence fell for a few minutes, as the Time Lady looked at her mentor, seeking in his eyes for an advice about what she was supposed to do. On the one hand, a foolish enterprise; on the other, the possible consequences of her refusal. If the CIA chose to trust the Doctor, this would mean they were really desperate, and in this case, how could she refuse to help?

"How shall I contact the Doctor?"

From below the desk, Borusa took out a casket, and put it on the desk; then, from a drawer, he took a little rod with a button at the top of it. "The Doctor has already been contacted, he's waiting for you. Once you're ready, you just press the button and you shall be taken inside his TARDIS. The rod is also a locator for the Stones: insert it into the console of the TARDIS and it shall lead you to them. Inside the casket, you'll also find something that will allow you to guard the Stones. I strongly suggest you not to open it before giving him to the Doctor."

"All right, sir. Only one question: what shall we do with the Stones after we recover them?"

"You'll take them back to Gallifrey. The CIA will choose where and when to hide them again. Is all clear?"

"Yes sir" Romanadovratnelundar nodded, rising from her chair. "If that's all, I shall go and prepare myself."

"You do that" Borusa confirmed. "Good luck, and don't let the Doctor scare you. He is odd, but he is a good man, and if you manage to be on his good side, he can be a good teacher for you. The Academy is useful, but experience is everything."

Romanadovratnelundar avoided answering to that last sentence: she feared it wouldn't be a very courteous answer.

The first thing she noticed was the white: the TARDIS' walls were completely painted in it. The round things, typical of the old TARDIS models, were the only decoration. She was a little taken aback by this. After all she heard of the Doctor, she imagined to find a more bizarre, extravagant decoration, not this classical, clean, fresh style. She was also expecting to find herself in the console room, not in some random corridor, and didn't the President say the Doctor was expecting her? Where was he?

As if answering her question, a door on her left opened. After some hesitation, Romanadvoratnelundar walked in carrying her case of clothes (she took as many as she thought could be necessary). She found herself in a rather large room, with an enormous canopy bed at the centre; a great wardrobe leaned against the wall opposite to where she stood, next to a door which, she thought, was probably that of the bathroom.

"Well, at least is cozy" she smiled, satisfied with this first impression, before reaching the wardrobe. She opened it, took her case inside it and pressed a code on the little keyboard forming the lock for it. A useful little gimmick: when she would close the door, the clothes would automatically position themselves inside of it, ready to be used. On the left door of the wardrobe, a mirror hung, and she took the chance to give a final glance to her dress. She wore a white tunic, very simple but elegant, and her hair was collected in a tiara, which she could take off at some point. Yes, she was good.

A bell sounded behind her (the cloister one, she guessed), and she went out looking for the Doctor. If they had to travel together, it was high time they met.

She arrived in the console room at the same time the Doctor was coming back from his meeting with the White Guardian. She saw him enter marching into the room and lean down towards the metal dog in a corner, speaking to him as a friend, those curly, frizzy hair of him waving rebelliously on his head. He spoke with a low, pleasant, friendly voice. She took some breath, then she introduced herself.

"Doctor, my name is Romanadvoratnelundar."

"I'm so sorry about that. Is there anything we can do?"

An eyebrow raised on his head, quizzically. Does he think to be funny?

"The President of the Supreme Council sent me to give you this" she said, choosing on being professional, and moving to handle the casket to the Doctor. She thought it may be heavy when she saw it for the first time in Borusa's office, but when she picked it up, she found it was really rather light.

"What's this?" asked the Doctor, receiving it.

"According to my instructions, something which would allow us to track down the Stones. I was ordered to give it to you unopened."

"Well, you've done it, so I think we shall take a look, what do you say ... em ..." the Doctor added, snapping his fingers impatiently.

"Romanadvoratnelundar."

"Too long. By the time I've called that out, you could be dead. I'll call you Romana."

"I don't like Romana."

"It's either Romana or Fred."

"All right, call me Fred."

"Good. Let's take a look, Romana."

Romana thought to protest, but the Doctor already unlocked the casket and opened it. Words died in her mouth while she looked at the content of the casket. The intern was layered with a red velvet cover, with six empty spaces shaped as what she supposed to be the Stones. Underneath it, a right-hand gauntlet laid, seemingly golden, as great as a normal human hand, cut through by some deep veining along the trace of the fingers. On the knuckles five holes were engraved, of the same size as the ones in the velvet, and a sixth was made on the back of the hand.

"T-that ... that is ..."

"An Infinity Gauntlet" said the Doctor, sounding way less excited than he was. "The only thing capable of harnessing the power of the Stones. Maybe that's why they put him there, as a way to stop the power of the Stones from causing havoc."

"Wow" Romana whispered. "It's ... beautiful."

"Yes, I suppose it must be exciting for someone as young and inexperienced as you are" the Doctor said, closing the casket and picking up the rod. This shook Romana off her trance: the young Time Lady raised herself in all her height and turned to face the Doctor.

"I may be inexperienced, but I did graduate from the Academy with a triple first."

"I suppose you think I should be impressed by that?" answered the Doctor, eyes still fixed on the rod.

"Well, it's better than scraping through with fifty-one percent at the second attempt" she answered, fighting fire with fire.

"That information is confidential!" exclaimed immediately the Doctor, somewhat petulantly. "That President ... I should have thrown him to the Sontarans when I had the chance!"

"Oh, do you want to know how that works?" Romana asked, pointing at the rod the Doctor still kept in his hand.

"I know how it works" he said, defensively. She ignored him.

"You have to plug it into your TARDIS controls, just there. There should be a hole in there."

"A hole? Why on ..."

"When plugged into the control console, the rod indicates the space-time coordinates of each Stone. It could be useful, don't you think?" Romana concluded, with a satisfied smirk. The Doctor followed her indications, and once he saw that there was indeed a hole (and reassuring the TARDIS she would fix it ... ), he put the rod inside it, muttering about how all this was 'very clever'.

As soon as the rod was inserted, the TARDIS moved. Romana looked fascinated the central column of the console rise and fall, shining on the inside of a pinkish light, while the engines resounded in the distance. She studied everything she could on the TARDISes, but she had never been inside one, nor she knew exactly how to pilot it. She felt a hot sensation around her stomach, but didn't worry: some slight disturbances were normal for a first trip in space-time, she read. She nonetheless decided to focus on something else, and moved to go out of the room, take off the tiara and fix her hair. But first, she decided to check whether the Doctor needed her.

"What would you like me to do?"

"Well, I'd like you to stay out of my way as much as possible and try and keep out of trouble. I don't suppose you can make tea?"

"Tea?"

"No, I don't suppose you can. They don't teach you anything useful at the Academy, do they? All gadgets and gimmickry."

And with that, Romana decided it was best for everyone if she just walked out of the room, before things became unpleasant between the two of them.

When she came back, a good twenty minutes later, without the tiara but with a mirror and a hairbrush, the Doctor was still at the console, looking at the ever-changing coordinates, and did not raise his eyes to watch her walk in. Romana didn't bother him to attract his attention, and started brushing her hair, humming a Gallifreyan song.

A pity, the man had such an unbearable charactter: now that she had the chance to look properly at him, Romana did understand the fascination surrounding his figure. Under the thick brown curls, the dark eyes shone with intelligence, the voice was very beautiful in his amber tones and, while the dress would honestly need some change (that scarf ... ), still it had some amount of taste. The Doctor was not beautiful (not in a canonical way, at least), but he certainly had charm. And then, there was the way he moved around the TARDIS: how assuredly, and graciously, he pressed the buttons and pulled the levers, as if he knew the ship as the back of his own hand, in a way that would have put to shame even the most skilled pilots. Maybe a second attempt at a dialogue would be worth a shot.

"You're sulking" she teased him.

"I'm not sulking" he replied, annoyed.

"That's ridiculous for somebody as old as you are."

"I'm not old ... What?" the Doctor asked, now raising his head, as if realizing only later what she said. Romana put down the brush and the mirror and kept insisting, amused.

"What are you, 759 years old?"

"756! That's not old, that's just mature!"

"You've lost count somewhere."

"Well, I ought to know my own age."

"Yes, but after the first few centuries, I expect things get a little bit foggy, don't they?"

With a loud huff, the Doctor close the distance between them. Romana had to raise her own head to look at him (he was taller than her), but didn't flinch back of one step (she wasn't really worried).

"Now, listen, it's no good. This isn't going to work."

"Doctor, you're not giving me a chance! It's funny, you know, but before I met you, I was even willing to be impressed."

"Indeed?" asked him, suddenly intrigued.

"Oh yes. Of course, now I realize that your behaviour simply derives from a subtransitory experiential hypertoid induced condition, aggravated, I expect, by multi-encephalogical tensions."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, to put it very simply, Doctor, you're suffering from a massive compensation syndrome."

Offended, the Doctor opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the TARDIS stopped moving, and the noise of the materialization echoed inside the room. Both of them rushed to the console to look at the coordinates, letting their dispute go.

"Jotunheim" the Doctor murmured, recognising the numbers. "The ice world, home to a race of Giants, not renowned for their friendliness."

"Have you been here already?"

"Not that I remember, but one of the advantages of experience is that you get every sort of information, usually those not in the books. Good, I could show you right away if I suffer of a massive compensation syndrome" the Doctor exclaimed, taking from a coat rack a large hat with great brims. "Now, pay attention. I'm not anticipating any trouble, but it's as well to be prepared for these things. Ground rules: rule one, do exactly as I say; rule two, stick close to me; and rule three, let me do all the talking. Is that perfectly clear?"

"You couldn't make it clearer" Romana mumbled. She moved to exit the room, but with a leap she didn't think him capable of, the Doctor grabbed by one arm and turned her to look at him. Romana wanted to protest, but the expression of his eyes stopped her: they were dark, very serious, with no trace of playfulness.

"Look, I'll admit that, were it for me, you would not be here, but since you are, I have no wish you come to any harm. Your intellectual faculties are remarkable, but the outer world is not the Academy, so please, please, trust my experience, or you risk never to come home in one piece. Good?"

Romana nodded silently. He really couldn't make it clearer.