A/N: This is just the prologue. This is basically a Doctor/Rose story, but the main focus in the beginning will surround the Doctor and my OC. Basically this story ignores Series 4 for many reasons (mostly because of the Daleks), but you will find out. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of its characters.


Massive skyscrapers stretched towards the horizon, the glow of the city drowning out the starlight. Sitting alone on a park bench overlooking the metropolis was a young looking woman dressed in dirty jeans, combat boots and a large leather jacket that hung off her frame; a black satchel bag draped over her shoulder. Her messy brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck; her complexion sallow and withdrawn. Homeless to the passerby and it wasn't too far off the mark.

Home, the woman thought dryly.

She used to have one, long ago, back when things were simple. Back when she knew who she was, what she was. But that all disappeared and she just became another lost soul in the universe with no home.

Alone.

It seemed so long ago when everything changed.

If she really thought about it, she'd only been a child then. Young and naïve; innocent about the cruelties of the universe. That had all been dashed the moment she realized that she wasn't the same as everyone else.

It was only innocent comments at first.

Oh, she's just so smart.

Brilliant for her age.

A young scientist in the making.

But it didn't last; fear did that.

She's not normal.

A complete freak!

That's not possible, nobody's that intelligent.

That's just inhuman!

Her mother did the best she could to shield her from them; from all the hateful people who thought that she was nothing more than a freak of nature. However, it took its toll on her mother; her friends ostracized and ridiculed her for having such a "strange" child.

But her mother would just smile and tell them that they were the strange ones. Her mother had been appalled that they would have the audacity to attack her child just because they were scared of what they didn't understand.

Besides, she didn't need "friends" who would dare insult her child.

And every day since then, that same child strove to be even half the woman her mother was. Her mother was loving and compassionate; always telling her not to hide her intelligence. "You're brilliant," her mother would say, "and only the ignorant could not understand that."

From then on, she worked even harder. Reading more, usually several books a day. She would learn as much as she could, whenever she could. Anything to prove that she wouldn't let anyone determine her self-worth; that was hers, and hers alone to decide.

"Never again Freya," her mother told her, "never again try to dumb yourself down for people like that. It's okay to be scared. Everyone gets scared, but you have so much to offer, love. So much. You just need the courage to stand up for what you believe in. And sometimes, that may mean standing alone, but never forget this. Never forget that I will always, always believe in you. You will never really be alone, so don't fear it. You are strong, so much stronger than you think and I know you can be great. You will accomplish great things when the right time comes. So don't be afraid to stand up and fight for what you believe in, because I believe in you."

A light pinging noise roused Freya from her thoughts, her "Time Jumper," as she dubbed her little invention, was almost ready to be used again.

Freya knew that she didn't have much time left, if she didn't find "him" soon she might never see her mother again.

Those bastards, Freya sneered.

Cold rage filled her as she thought of everything that had happened in the last year. Everything had been fine, great even. Freya and her mother may have just been getting by, but she didn't mind so much because they were still together. After losing her uncle to old age they decided it best to leave Earth behind; there was nothing left for them there anyway. Torchwood was no longer under the Tyler family's management once Tony died and they were no longer protected from investigation by the Institute. Thus, leaving for another world was the best option. Space travel still being rather rudimentary at the time didn't make it easy to get off planet, but somehow they managed.

They bounced between human space-colonies for about century or so before they found an alien planet where they could start anew. For a few decades everything had been great, her mother found work as a pilot for short route cargo ships. Freya spent most of her time working in a mechanic's shops; she found repairing rather enjoyable.

But that all changed when "They" showed up.

Freya had no idea who "they" were or even what "they" were.

All she knew was that "they" were smart.

Terrifyingly intelligent.

Intelligent enough to notice that Freya and her mother did not fit in with the rest of that universe. Freya knew that her mother and herself had not originated from the dimension they lived in. "Pete's World" was what her mum had often referred to Earth as.

"Like our world," her mother would say, "but different. Here Britain has a president, but in our Britain had a Prime Minister. Things are just slightly different here."

Thinking of her mother brought on a fresh wave of despair. Freya was terrified that she would never see her mother again.

Her amazing, resilient, happy mother. They both had lost so much and they couldn't afford to lose each other.

No, Freya thought, I will figure this out. I will save her, I just need him.

Him.

Her mum always referred to this "him," whoever he was.

"You must find him, Freya, you have to! He is called the Doctor. Don't forget! He is only the one who can help. Find him. Find him, Freya!" They were last words she heard from her mother, right before she shoved a key into Freya's hands and activated the dimension jumper on Freya's wrist that shot her across the Void. Back to her mother's home dimension; alone. The dimension jumper was another invention that she and her mother had been working on together. Freya had desperately hoped they would use it together, but it could only sustain one.

Her mother had made sure that "They" would never get their hands on Freya.

Reaching up to the necklace hanging round her neck, Freya traced her thumb over the key.

It was cool to the touch, its edges worn from years of handling but the engraving was still there.

The engraving of a rose.