I doubt if any of us truly understands what we're about to do. What we may be starting.
Who: Romana and Narvin.
What: So that thing Narvin did at the end of S6? Yeah. That. There are consequences.
Where: Romana's chambers in the Capitol.
When: Some time after the end of S6, in the early days of the Time War.
In the wake of the Matrix affair and the Dalek invasion attempt, Romana had expected that noxious species to retreat to its bolt-holes and stay out of Gallifrey's way. And they did, for a time. For a while, there was nothing from them. A little later, certain far-flung Gallifreyan research outposts reported signs of Dalek scout ships, but there were no overt attacks. They merely seemed to be ... watching.
Things came to a head quite abruptly. In the span of a week, the Monan Host, the Unvoss, and the Virgoans cut off diplomatic ties with Gallifrey. The others became strangely distant. Romana and the High Council were driving themselves half-mad trying to determine the source of the sudden political chill and repairing the damage when she received a confidential transmission from a Nekkistani ambassador—who, he made very clear, was acting outside the remit of his government.
"The Daleks said what?"
"Just so, Madam President. That Gallifrey has acted with unprecedented aggression, contravening its own temporal laws and the treaties signed by the Temporal Powers, attempting to snuff them out at their source."
"But that's—I never signed off on anything of the kind!"
"I am sure you didn't, Madam President. I, at least, have that much faith in you. Hence my desire to warn y—"
The transmission was abruptly cut off in a shriek of static, and minutes later, a terrified-looking CIA officer came running into Narvin's office with the first words of a Dalek attack on a Gallifreyan research outpost that was not-so-secretly run by the CIA—burned to the ground, all hands dead. At the same time, an administrator came running to tell Romana that Dalek fleets were massing in the quadrant around Skaro.
So it began.

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If he kept down, kept quiet, he thought, perhaps it would all blow over, his rash mistake erased by other concerns. The mission had failed anyway; the Doctor hadn't eliminated the Daleks, history carried on much as it had before, so what was the harm done really?
Then the Temporal Powers began to cut off diplomatic ties to Gallifrey. But, Narvin reasoned, there could be any number of reasons for that. The alliances had always been tenuous, perhaps the High Monan had convinced the others that Gallifrey was simply too politically unstable to maintain treaties with, having gone through four presidents in short succession. He put his misgivings aside and carried on.
When word of the attack on a CIA outpost came, Narvin's first thought was merely to regret that his plan hadn't succeeded. His second was that he had to inform Romana of the attack immediately.
He ran from his headquarters to the presidential office and burst in without even pausing to knock.
"Romana, there's been an assault. The Daleks have taken Outpost 48 Gamma."
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"—energy levels rising steadily, and they've been deploying attack units regularly over the past several microspans. As far as we can tell, the units are dispersing toward Gallifreyan interests. You've got to get the word out, Madam President; you have to warn—"
The words cut out abruptly in a loud screeching noise; the hologram guttered and flickered out. Vassilos jabbed angrily at the communicator controls several times, barking at the scout to report, then shook her head. "We've lost him, Madam President."
"Get another scout out there now, Vassilos."
"At once, Madam President." With the most perfunctory nod in Narvin's direction—born of urgency, not rudeness—she hurried out to her own office, leaving Narvin and Romana.
"I'm afraid Outpost 48 Gamma may only be the first casualty, Narvin." Romana rubbed her forehead, a bleak look on her face.
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"The Daleks have never risked an open assault on Gallifrey's territory before, it's always been infiltration and ambushes and strike teams with them. Do we know what's caused them to change their pattern?"
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"The Daleks have sent no message, no official declaration. It makes no sense." Romana started to pace. "All I have to go on is something unbelievable from the Nekkistani—that the Daleks have gone behind our backs to the other Temporal Powers, accusing Gallifrey of a trans-temporal attack!" Her expression was one of confused disbelief. "They're claiming we shot first, Narvin—and that's why the Monan Host and the rest have cut ties. The transmission from the ambassador was cut off before I could learn more. I don't understand—could they be somehow twisting their invasion into a casus belli?"
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"Ah."
He's tempted, extremely tempted to just leave it at that, act confused, confession nothing. Lie. It's what the CIA does.
But Gallifrey's safety was at stake, and if his actions had provoked this he needed to undo the damage. And do to that, Romana needed to know.
"I...ah...might have some information on that."
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Romana leaned back against her desk. She pressed her palms together in a gesture not unlike prayer, the tips of her index fingers against her lower lip. She was silent for a moment, trying to enjoy the last moments of ignorance she had left to her.
"Do you. Well, go on, Narvin; it's not as if this day can get any worse."
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"I ordered a secret temporal strike against the Daleks some months ago. I had a messenger contact the Doctor in one of his earlier incarnations and command him to go to Skaro and prevent the Dalek's creation."
It was all said with a flat, even tone, but he couldn't maintain the facade of calm. He'd broken the nonintervention laws and laws of time in one fell swoop and ultimately to no purpose, no purpose at all.
"I thought you were--!" He broke off that sentence before he finished it. No, no excuses. He swallowed once and tried to hold the mask of Time Lord dignity in place.
"The mission failed, obviously."
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"You. Did. What."
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If it had worked. It was an unfortunate phrase in these circumstances. Narvin can't regret the attempt itself, only that it had failed. He sighed softly and his hands were clenched tightly behind his back, out of view.
"You know what you have to do. I broke the law. Extradite me to Skaro. Perhaps the gesture of goodwill will appease them, and restore support from the Temporal Powers."
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She pressed her hands to her temples. He was right, of course. Extraditing Narvin would solve their problems. Hang Narvin out to dry and while there'd still be a lot of diplomacy to finesse, they could at least recover the situation somewhat, avert a war that could only end in catastrophe.
But...
"I can't do it, Narvin," she said softly. "I can't turn you over to them like that. I know what they'll do to you."
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"What they do to me doesn't matter. Gallifrey is more important than I am. I can't say I'm happy with this solution, far from it. I'm terrified. But I don't see any other way to fix this."
A sigh deflated his attempts to stand talk and at attention. His shoulders slumped and his hands unclasped from behind his back to free his arms to cross his chest instead.
"Romana, you have a duty as president." He wanted to add "if our positions were reversed, I wouldn't hesitate" but the words stuck in his throat, too big a lie to make it past his windpipe. But that's one reason why he never wanted to be president; someone other than him got to be responsible for the hardest decisions.
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And if that meant handing himself over to the Dalek parliament for trial, so be it. He wasn't just avoiding telling the truth, he was, in an indirect way, giving her his permission to throw him under the proverbial ground transport.
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"I know, Narvin. I know." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It would be the quickest thing to do. Perhaps you could even call it the right thing. One sacrifice for the good of all of us." It was just Narvin. It was just one person. Even if that one person was someone she could scarcely afford to discard—
An idea struck her. It might not have been the best idea, it might end terribly for Narvin all the same, but—
"What if ... what if we publicly disavowed you? Declared you an exile, a renegade. Promised to hand you over to the Dalek parliament but ..." She swept her hand through the air. "Well. It's not as if Time Lords haven't absconded with TARDISes before..."
She looked at him a little desperately. He probably would say no. Too sloppy. But it was the only alternative she could think of to turning over her ... her friend to those monsters.
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And he would never see Gallifrey again.
"Romana, I...can't. I'm not like you. I never had a wild and dissolute youth." Narvin generally made a point of not thinking too much about what his president had been doing as a renegade, but when he did he imagined that it was wild and dissolute, because he imagined the Doctor was wild and dissolute.
"I wouldn't know what to do with myself as a renegade." His voice was quiet, lost. Without his work, he didn't know what he would be, what use he was.
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"You wouldn't have to do anything," Romana said. "Only keep moving. Hide. You're CIA, Narvin; you should be able to keep yourself safe. Besides," she tried to smile and couldn't quite seem to manage it, "if a renegade who graduated practically at the bottom of his class can keep getting the better of the Daleks for centuries, surely you can."
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He scoffed. "I should hope so." And her words opened up possibilities for him. He could still serve Gallifrey from afar, consider it akin to a long term deep undercover assignment. He could explore possible threats, possible alliances and quietly send the information on to the right people. But there was still one concern.
"Will it be enough to appease the Daleks--in as much as Daleks are ever appeased--and secure again the support of the Temporal Powers?"
so late omg
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"As for disavowing me, our rather tumultuous history should come in handy. It shouldn't take too much effort to make people believe that you vehemently oppose everything I stand for. Why, it's practically true."
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"I don't oppose you as much as you think, Narvin. Not that anyone else needs to know that."
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"But despite that, I believe that you're the best president Gallifrey has had in a very long time. I tried to alter history because I thought I needed to save you. Because Gallifrey needs you. Since I won't..." He paused for a moment. Swallowed. It was still hard to imagine that he was going to leave his planet, possibly forever. "...won't be around anymore to watch your back, be careful. Keep Leela close. Don't let Matthias or Valyes or any of the others push you from office."
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Her communicator buzzed, but where normally Romana would have responded, she merely paused to slap the button to mute the alert. Whoever it was could bloody well wait this time.
"I've been meaning to tell you that I've come to trust you, Narvin. As much as I trust Leela." Every time she'd tried to say it before, something's interrupted her—Narvin's own bullheadedness or sharp tongue more often than not. But this was probably the last chance she'd ever get, and she was damn well going to take it. "I will sorely miss having you at my back."
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There was a long pause.
"I wasn't expecting that."
He should probably say something else. Oh yes.
"But...ah...thank you."
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It was a jab, true, but it wasn't delivered with anger. It pained her to say it, reminding her as it did what she was sending Narvin off to.
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He wondered if he should say that he'd miss them, Romana and Leela. No, far too maudlin.
"Do I get to choose which TARDIS I take into exile with me?"
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"Of course you can choose your TARDIS; it's hardly a good escape if you can't," she said. "Your escape plan is entirely up to you, Narvin. Just don't tell me anything about it."
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His shoes shuffled on the floor as he shifted his weight.
"How much time do I have?" He said the words flatly. It was still difficult to process that soon he'd be a criminal on the run. He wondered if he should say his farewells to Leela, or leave it to Romana to explain to her what happened.
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"How much can you do in ... the next three spans?" she asked him.
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"Enough to make it work."
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"Good luck, Narvin."
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"Madam President."
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And then, very quickly and briskly she stepped forward and gave Narvin a one-armed, almost businesslike hug. She released him before he could react and let his hand go.
"Go. And don't look back."
There was the faintest tremble in her voice, and her eyes were a little too bright.
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He nodded once at Romana's command, hesitated for a nanospan more, wanting to say something deep and poignant in farewell, but nothing came to mind. It was never one of his strengths; Braxiatel was better at that sort of thing.
So he held his silence, turned and hurried out, the mental clock still ticking down, ticktockticktock.