This first chapter is set pre 'To the Last Man'

There's a day on Toshiko's calendar, circled in red. A special day, now.

It makes Toshiko laugh at herself when she remembers how this special day didn't even warrant a spot on her calendar that first year at Torchwood. The prospect of reawakening someone from early last century didn't thrill Tosh nearly as much as finding a shiny new piece of technology, not back then. The Rift spat out people from the past regularly. If Tosh thought about it at all, it was usually to wonder why they couldn't just use the latest time refugee whenever the miraculous event finally occurred. If it ever did. Keeping someone on ice 'just in case' seemed vaguely cruel by comparison.

The fact that they could and would bring this mysterious someone back to life, if only for a day, was just another wonder in a life full of new discoveries. Just another necessity, arming the human race for a future she probably wouldn't live to see.

Then the day arrived. The stretcher rattled as Owen wheeled it into place, and Toshiko left her latest program running, not out of curiosity, but because she'd offered to help. She did that a lot, back then, just fore the chance to be near the sardonic doctor, the chance to impress him with her efficiency. Which was nicely ironic, because Toshiko hadn't given Owen a thought after Tommy woke up.

It was like a fairytale, only in reverse. The sleeping prince opened his eyes and if what happened next wasn't love at first sight, it was something damned close to it.

Tosh could still remember that smile, the first time Tommy eyes opened to see Toshiko sitting beside him, clipboard in hand. His lips curved and his eyes lit, and the task ahead, the day ahead, forever rewrote itself in Toshiko's mind. It wasn't about weapons, or tools, or technology. It was about humanity. One piece of humanity. One human. One man.

One young soldier, frozen in time. Called forth, once a year, because one day he'd be sent into battle and save the world. A hero in waiting. A handsome hero. Her handsome hero.

A fairytale hero. Except this fairytale would never have a happily ever after. They'd have a single day together, and then the evil step-doctor would send the handsome prince back into slumber for another year.

A year during which Toshiko would alternate between pining for a man who didn't notice her and dreaming about a man who couldn't dream about her.

You didn't dream in cryosleep. Brain cells shut down, apparently.

And each year, she'd age and he wouldn't. A different fairytale. Tommy would wake, eternally young, eternally handsome. Peter Pan to her Wendy, until one day Toshiko would be too old for the fairy dust.

But that first time, with a handsome young man smiling at her, and that tightness around Owen's mouth that just might be jealousy, Toshiko decided one day was enough. One day out of reality. She had to fight the monsters every other day of the year, so why turn her back on the opportunity to play the princess, just this once?

As night fell, Toshiko sat at Tommy's bedside while Owen tightened the tourniquet and slid a needle into a vein. The smile slipped from Tommy's lips as the drugs took hold, but Toshiko kept her own smile steady until his eyes closed, and held his hand until the fingers went limp between her own. And when Tosh got home that night, she flipped to the back of her calendar, where next year was printed in miniature, and painted a single day red.

That night, she didn't dream of impossibilities with Owen. She didn't need fantasy anymore.

In the depths where Torchwood didn't see, Toshiko's sleeping mind replayed their last, whispered conversation.

"Same time next year?"

"It's a date."

"See you tomorrow, then!"

Toshiko smiled in her sleep. If there were dreams in cryosleep, they had a dream to share. A memory. A promise. Until next year, or tomorrow.

Thanks for reading!