In which, a 32 year old woman from Torchwood stumbles across a time traveling alien with a blue box, and decides that nothing else matters more than the thrill of near death.
Or
Lilly Tyler is used to aliens, and death, and eve...
“ Not my fault you have too many names. Maybe you can lend a few to your brother ”
••••••••••••••••••••••••
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
*Tw: child loss (not death but it gets kinda deep) •
•••••••••••••••••••••••••
Time is a funny thing. For something with so many rules, it doesn't half fail to follow them. Looking back on the day as it happened - and the weeks that followed - after experiencing so much more of my life was like a walk in the park. Time was protecting us, me and my son, the entire time.
I remember forcing my eyes open and taking in the white that surrounded me.
I remember the agony, the pain, the torment, the strain, the screaming from both of us.
I remember eye patch lady giving fruitless words of comfort as I did my best to bring my child into the universe safely, despite it being against my will.
I remember the first time I held my son close to my chest and cried. For me...for him...for his future.
There was no way I could come up with a name without the Doctor by my side, so 'baby' it was.
•
Three weeks; that's how long I was allowed to stay with him.
It had been a long three weeks, however, with restless nights and constant tears, but not once would I dare to voice my complaints aloud for fear that he'd be taken - ripped from my arms.
So, as my last day rolled around, nothing could stop me from sitting cross-legged in bed for the entire 24 hours while embracing my baby, my whole world.
We were interrupted by a loud bang at the door.
I cast my eyes, as reference, to the huge stopwatch hanging above my door. I think it was put there to torment me, however it filled me with an ounce of hope on this one occasion.
It wasn't time, meaning Madame Kovarian wasn't on the other side of that door. Someone else was. Maybe someone I knew.
Before I could stop the curiosity from taking control over my actions, I was stood and heading towards to big metal doors. "Hello? Who's out there?" My son fussed at the increase in my volume and I shushed him quietly.
A woman with a Southern American called back, "put your baby down, dear."
"What? Who are you?"
"I'm the woman who's saving your ungrateful little life. You know, you're much more pleasant in your future-" The sound of a gun firing interrupted what could turn into a full blown monologue, and also made me take a step backwards. "Now, put the baby down."
