This is one of two versions of these events. Nothing too graphic. Enjoy!

I was awoken by the sound of screaming. At first I thought it was a part of my dream, then I realised, it was coming from above the surface. I groaned and allowed myself back to conciousness.

I sat up and gasped it was always the same these days. Dreaming equaled drowning. I pulled the Doctor into my arms and began to hum a lullaby. His cries diminished immediately.

" It's okay," I rocked him back and forth while he shivered and whimpered in my grasp. " It was just a dream, don't be afraid."

I ran my fingers over the scars on his chest, where the FOE* gang had tortured him. Two weeks after we had arrived back from Badwolf bay, he'd suddenly vanished. I spent an entire week thinking he'd left me. Then we found the crime scene. The blood pool, the mobile with my number on it. All it had told us was that the Doctor had been ambushed and had put up a hell of a fight. But there was still a lot of blood. Too much of it.

Two weeks after that, we found a dumpster full of non-human dead bodies in it. It was stationned next to an abandonned warehouse, empty for decades on the outskirts of London, but with signs of recent activity from the amount of blood. The Doctor's had been there too.

Finding their next location had been easier than expected. They seemed to have grossly underestimated Torchwood. We found what appeared to be cells and released the prisonners, some only children. I merely remember screaming the Doctor's name, running down every corridor until I opened the last door. I will never forget what I saw.

He was hanging from the ceiling by his wrists, his feet barely touching the floor, drenched entirely in all body fluids imaginable. His nackedness showed the brutality of his month in hell.

I tried to scream for Jake, but couldn't make a sound, fear crushing my chest.

Suddenly there had been noise, everyone else had found me. I watched numbly as they cut him loose and vigourously worked over him. Only when a voice said "I have a heartbeat!" did I allow myself to pass out.

I practicly lived at Torchwood after that, sitting at his bedside for the next two months, waiting for him to come out of his medically induced coma. Weeks learning how to walk again, the pain he was in was unbearable. The torture and abuse, remembered in every minute detail, haunting his beautiful brown eyes, as he believed I wouldn't love him anymore. As if that were possible. I had been carrying his child since our second night in this universe.

I was snapped out of my daydream as he ran his hand over my bulge. He looked up at me and smiled. Discovering that he would be a father had helped put a bit of light back in his eyes, but it didn't stop the nightmares.

At six months pregnant, I was eating strange things like Fish custard, that the Doctor eagerly shared with me. He didn't even know he'd liked it.

Scans showed the baby had one heart, but the structure of the brain was a lot more complex. I'd never felt so happy in three years.

The Doctor stood up unsteadily and muttered something about tea and I sighed in contentment. I was drifting off again until there was a loud crash and I leapt out of bed to find him.

He was luing on the kitchen floor, fingers burnt from scalding tea. I dragged him back to bed, when he started giggling uncontrollably.

"What's up?" I asked, dumping him on the bed.

"I'm on a recovery holiday with you in Barcelona." He sighed. "Not exactly the planet, but it'll do."

"This is better than the planet." I replied, snuggling against him, "'cause I'm in the same bed as you."

We looked at each other and grinned. He kissed the top of my head. "Yeah, you're right," he said after a pause. "This is my perfect holiday."

THE END