I know, I've been horrible about upadting lately. But here's a new and improved(thanks to annalovingwriter-fantastic beta by the way) version of A Lonely Beginning. Allons-y!

John Smith. That's what he had wanted to call himself. Rose had disagreed.

"It's so generic," she had told him, "so...ordinary. You want something that tells people that you're someone to be remembered. Something like...oh, I don't know. Derek? No, you don't look like a Derek." He had smiled at her indulgently. He could tell that she was still trying to warm up to him, to the idea of him, the idea that he could spend his forever with her. Letting her name him was something he hoped would solidify that.

"Well, let me know when you decide. But make it soon, Rose, I can't go wandering about this universe with no name." They were sitting on the couch in Pete Tyler's living room, poring over the papers laid out on the coffee table. Rose's father had agreed to create him an identity, and now he had to decide what he was going to be for the rest of his wonderfully short human lifespan. Rose sat in silence next to him for almost five minutes before speaking again.

"Ian. You mentioned a man named Ian once, right? I think it would fit you." The words hit him like a ton of bricks. To be branded with the name of a man long dead...but it was her decision, and who was he to tell her no?

"Ian then. And a last name?" He spoke softly, trying not to remember.

"Lupin, like the wolf. So I know you're mine. And James was my grandfather's name, on Pete's side. I think that's kind of appropriate, a family name. Ian James Lupin. It fits you." And so he was born, on the lips of Rose Tyler. And now she lay dying in his arms.

"Rose, no. Don't leave me like this, Rose. Please." He had dragged her beyond the range of fire and the rubble that littered the streets. It had barely been two years since they had been married; only three since Ian had been 'born'.

"Ian..." Rose whispered, pressing a hand to her stomach. Her blood was pooling quickly, and it seeped through his fingertips as Ian pressed on the wound, trying to staunch the flow.

"Don't talk. I'm going to get you to a hospital and they'll patch you up there. Rose, you are going to be fine." She smiled weakly at him.

"You were always such a bad liar, Ian. I'm not going to be fine. But I want you to know...that I love you, more than I ever loved him." He could feel himself start crying now, his tears mingling with hers on Rose's cheeks. "You might think that I was never over him, but it's been you ever since the first time you told me you loved me. You are so much braver than the Doctor could ever be, and I love you so much," Rose's voice cracked. She reached a bloody hand up to cup Ian's cheek. "I should have told you earlier, maybe I wouldn't be here today, but Ian, I'm pregnant. We were going to have a child." Those words stopped his single heart in its tracks.

"Rose, no. Please, don't tell me this," he sobbed. Now that he was human emotions were much more potent than he remembered, and hard to surpress. "Don't make me lose that too."

"But you're gonna be okay," she cut him off, sounding more desperate. "I don't have much time left but you're gonna be okay. And I'll see you again, someday. Just, promise me one thing, Ian."

"Anything, Rose, anything at all." Her hand dropped from his face, and Ian took it in his.

"Promise me never to give up. And, if you can, find the Doctor. He'll give you something to live for, when you've got no one left." He sniffed, grasping her hand tighter.

"Don't leave me here, Rose. Please. Please don't go," he begged her; the first time he begged anyone for anything. Now he pleaded to his Rose, and the universe, to give him a miracle.

"Promise me, Ian!" She said forcefully through her tears.

"I-I promise, Rose." She smiled up at him.

"I love you, Ian. I was gonna stay with you forever, but that's not how it's working out, is it?"

"I love you too, Rose. Oh, you have no idea how much I love you. Ever since those first words, the first thing you ever said to me, I have loved you with all of my hearts. Even if I didn't know it yet." Rose smiled softly before wincing in pain.

"Just one now, remember?" Ian couldn't answer; he just let the tears slide down his face. "Ian..." Rose whispered, so softly he could barely hear her. He leaned his head down to hear what he knew would be Rose's last words to him. She took a shaky breath, then said one word, just one, so softly and urgently and lovingly.

"Run."

The Doctor was trapped in a Dalek ship and rapidly losing hope when he heard the oddest combination of music he'd heard in a while: opera and heavy metal. The next thing that came over the speaker was the sound of two girls arguing amiably. He couldn't have been more confused if he'd tried.

"Come on, Diana, turn it down! I'm trying to record something for mum," Oswin glared at her older cousin.

"How's she going to get it, then?" Diana replied. Before Oswin could answer, a voice came on the speaker. It was the first voice either of them had heard in a while other than their own.

"Hello? Hello, can you hear me?"

Oswin rushed over to the COM and pressed the button that sent the transmission . "Loud and clear. Did someone finally get my broadcast?"

"My broadcasts, thank you very much." Diana scoffed behind her. "I seem to remember you banging your head against the table in frustration because you couldn't get it past the force field." Oswin turned and glared again.

"I had to get stuck with my irritating cousin in the middle of nowhere." She turned her attention back to the speaker, who was again speaking.

"Who are you? What happened to you?"

"Oswin Oswald, Junior Entertainment Manager, and my cousin Diana Lupin-Tyler, the pilot of our shipwrecked vessel. We're the only two left." Diana finally turned off their music and came to sit next to her cousin.

"Tyler? I had a friend called that, once," the man said. "So, what have you two been doing? How long have you been wrecked?"

"About a year. We've had lots of Dalek attacks, though we've done pretty well fending them off, if I do say so myself," Oswin said.

"What have you been doing for a year? It must get rather boring down there."

"Well, I make soufflés, and Diana paints a lot." Oswin glanced over at the canvas her twin was currently working on. It was a wolf, standing on the edge of a cliff, its head thrown back. It howled at the full moon above its head, eyes closed.

"Soufflés and paintings against the Daleks? Brilliant! But where do you get the milk?" the man asked, but the connection was severed before Oswin could answer. She glanced at her cousin, whose brow was furrowed in confusion.

"Do you think he'll get us out of here?" Oswin asked hopefully. Diana's face relaxed and she smiled at her.

"Whoever he is, I'm sure he'll find us. Nobody decent would just leave us here, right?." Diana swept her blonde hair out of her face and picked up a paintbrush. She dipped it in dark blue paint and began to sign her painting. The swirling shape of a 'B' began to take shape on the canvas. Diana always signed her paintings with the words 'Bad Wolf' though Oswin had no idea why.

The Doctor stared at the two Daleks in horror. They had been speaking to him just seconds ago, and now here he was, staring into the eyestalks of two of his greatest foes in the universe. They were both looking at him, and he jumped when one spoke.

"Well? We're right here, Chin Boy." The Doctor backed towards the door slowly, trying to hear the voice of Oswin, not the metallic grating that came from the creature in front of him

"It's a dream."

"What are you talking about?" the Dalek that he thought was Diana spoke. She- it -sounded unsure, almost frightened.

"Look around you, girls. Everything you see is a dream. The milk, Oswin. Where did you get the milk and eggs?" The Dalek stilled.

"Where am I?"

"You are a Dalek," he spat, disgusted with himself for being so cruel. Inside that abomination was an obviously scared girl.

"He's right, Oswin," Diana spoke, and the voice was gentle. The Doctor could do nothing but stare. "I knew. I've always known. They converted us both, looking for brilliance. You...you went first. You couldn't handle it, so I let myself come with you into your mind. But it's okay. We're still together." Oswin swiveled her eyestalk to stare at her cousin.

"But...I'm human! Look at me, I'm human! And you are too, Diana, I can see you!"

"Oswin, you're seeing your cousin as you want to see her. Look. Really look," the Doctor said. They stood there for a moment in silence. Suddenly, Oswin turned to face him.

"They hate you so much, Doctor. Why do they hate you so much?"

"I fought them. Many times."

"But you won't fight us," Diana said.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because we're innocent.. We don't hate you; we've got no reason to. And maybe you know that we can help you."

"Help me?"

"You'll never get out of here without Oswin and me. We can shut down the Dalek's defenses, just for a moment, and beam you back up to your ship." The words came quickly, and the Doctor stared in confusion.

"But why? Why would you help me of all people?" The door behind him started to slide open.

"I've got the doors opening and the Daleks out of commission," Oswin stated. Her voice was flat, but the Doctor could hear a hint of something-fear, maybe-in the voice of the Dalek.

"I don't quite know. Maybe the universe needs you, Doctor. Maybe you can actually make a difference. What's the point of questioning it-we're helping you. What more do you need to know?

"Thank you."

"Run!" Oswin screamed at him, "we can only hold this for so long." So he did. The last thing he ever heard from the two girls came over the intercom. Their human voices were a relief to hear.

"Run, you clever boy, and remember," was the whisper of Oswin. What Diana said chilled him to the bone, though he did not stop running, nor dare to hope.

"I create myself."

Ian was frantic. He had taken the original designs for the dimension cannon from the Torchwood archives. As far as he could tell, it would still be operational, with some minor tweaks. The problem was that it would take too much time. It was three months after Rose's death and he was still having trouble coming to terms with the little things. Like how she would no longer sneak into his office during her shifts just to rub his shoulders and reassure him that they'd get a field assignment soon. How he couldn't wake up with his arms around her back and her face pressed to his chest. How their house just didn't feel like home anymore.

Ian stayed late at work more often than not. Pete didn't say anything about it, just handing him a cup of tea every night when the older man left. Ian worked late into the night on the cannon. And every night he got a little bit closer to finishing it.

He didn't know why he was going looking for the Doctor. Maybe he was just honoring his wife's last request. But Ian also knew that if he stayed here without Rose, he'd slowly drive himself mad. He would spend his days working for Torchwood, but without Rose he would have no purpose but to slip back into his old habits. Rose had healed him, more than the Doctor thought she would. Ian had been reckless, volatile, and even violent on occasion, but Rose calmed him. She would hold his shoulders and stare him down and eventually he would sag in her grip and kiss her. Those days were almost three years gone now, but he could feel his restlessness and sorrow slowly giving way to the more dangerous emotions. He had to get back to the Doctor because if he didn't he would lose control.

"Ian, are you good for the night?" Pete asked as he left Torchwood Tower. Ian was sitting in the lab, tinkering with the last unfinished piece of the dimension cannon.

"Yeah, thanks, Pete. I think I'm gonna finish tonight." Pete set down the mug of tea next to Ian, followed by a sandwich from the tower's canteen.

"You haven't eaten at all today."

"Thanks, Pete." Ian put down the disassembled vortex manipulator and picked up the food, taking a large bite. He wasn't used to having to eat and sleep on a regular basis, even after three years. Being human was exhausting. "If I finish, I'll call you before I go." Pete nodded solemnly.

"I'm sure Jackie and Tony will want to say goodbye." Ian looked saddened at the thought of Tony. He and the eight year old had formed a very close bond over the years, and he was reluctant to leave the child. "Don't worry, we'll make sure he remembers you."

"Are you sure you and Jackie will be alright?" Ian asked. Pete smiled gently at his son. That was what Ian had become to him, nothing less than his own son.

"Of course we will. Don't worry about us, just do what you have to do." Ian nodded.

"Goodnight, Pete."

"Goodnight, Ian." Pete left the office and Ian hurriedly ate the sandwich and drank the tea before returning to work. There was a lot to be done.

Ian finished the cannon that night, at around one o'clock. It was smaller and more portable than the original and he was fairly certain that it would work without doing too much harm to the fabric of reality. It was a tiny rip that could be sewn up and forgotten about. Nothing like what Rose...well, this one had a tracking system that was almost guaranteed to get him to the correct universe the first time round. After he got there he would track the TARDIS with hid modified vortex manipulator and jump to wherever she was.

Picking up his mobile, he hit the number for Pete's speed dial. Rose's number was still his first, and some days when he broke down, he called the phone still laying on their dresser and left her a message. He didn't know if she heard them or not, didn't know if there was something beyond this life that allowed her to watch over him. He doubted it.

"You finished it," Pete said in lieu of a traditional greeting.

"Yeah. Put on Tony for me, please," he replied. After a moment, the boy's voice came over the line.

"Are you leaving, Ian?"

"Yeah, Tony, I am. I'm going to find the Doctor, remember? Your mum and sister told you about him," Ian said as gently as he could.

"But am I ever gonna see you again?" Ian choked back a sob. Tony sounded so much like his older sister.

"You can't," he said. His voice sounded odd to his own ears; thick with emotion and breaking in places. "I'm sorry, Tony, but you can't."

"Oh." Tony was silent for a moment and Ian fought back his tears. "I love you, Ian." The boy said, and Ian fell apart again.

"I love you too, Tony. Be good for your mum, okay? Take care of her for me."

"Okay."

"Put your dad back on. And remember, Tony, you can do anything."

"Bye, Ian." Pete came on shortly.

"Jackie told me to tell you goodbye. She doesn't want to do it herself, and I don't blame her. You're family, Ian. You know that."

"Yeah. Tell her thanks for everything. Tell her I love her and that I will always be grateful to her for giving me Rose."

"I will. Best of luck, Ian James, best of luck." Ian hung up. He couldn't take any more. Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he turned to the blank wall in front of him.

"Allons-y, Rose Tyler." He pressed the button on the cannon.