PLEASE NOTE THAT THE EPISODES IN THIS STORY HAVE BEEN RE-ORDERED TO ACCOMODATE AN EXTRA CHARACTER.
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My name is Lily. I was employed at Torchwood 1, until the Cybermen came. I wasn't one of the useless sods in the office either. I was a field agent. My job was to go out and collect alien technology, and bring it back to Torchwood tower. I was in America during the battle of Canary wharf. I was tracking down an energy signature in the Sonora dessert. I had been disobeying orders, going out to find this one. I knew it was a long shot, find source of the signature or lose my job. But I went, because the energy signature was brilliant. Could only have come from alien technology. It was, a crashed ship, but the U.S. government had gotten to it first. I thought I would lose my job for sure. I didn't even know about the Cybermen, until I arrived in Pheonix a few days later. Of course, I got on the first flight out, but when I got home, Mother was gone. I was on the list of the dead. I had no idea where she'd went to, or even if she was still alive. I looked for her, but she was never found. They assumed she was dead.
I guess my story really started when I was 11 years old. I found a little blue box, and I went on the ride of my life, with a man called the Doctor. A day among the stars. I'd gone home, and told my Mother, and she'd smiled, that smile she always smiled, and patted my head, saying, there really is so much more out there to be seen.
I applied to Torchwood as soon as I was able. They were shocked of course, none of the general public knew about Torchwood. My Mother had told me about them. How she knew, I only found out much later in my life. So they really only had two options, recruit me, or wipe my memory. They recruited me, recognizing potential. I worked there for one year, before the place was destroyed in the battle. But, I suppose, that's not my story. That must be the prologue. THIS story, the one I'm telling now, began in a bar, a year after the Cybermen.
I was just sitting there, doing nothing. I had gotten a job in an supermarket. The girl who used to hunt down alien technology, working as a cashier. Ironic really. I was thinking, and reflecting, when this man walked up to me.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked me.
"Sure," I said. I wasn't flirting, really. I was just a bit short on money, and a paid for drink is a paid for drink.
He smirked. "What are you having then?" he asked.
"I'll have a coke," I said.
His face fell a bit. "A coke, really?" he said. I shrugged.
"I'm not too fond of hangovers, and I've got things to do tomorrow," I said.
He bought me my drink, and then two more, trying to make small talk. What's your name, where do you work, your hair's very pretty, that kind of thing. I finished my third drink, and got up to leave.
He sat there for a few minutes, before actually registering that I was walking away.
"Where are you going?" he asked, running out the door after me.
"Home," I said shortly.
"But I bought you three drinks," he said.
"That you did," I said.
"Doesn't that entail a bit more gratitude?" he asked.
I stopped, looking at him. "Not really. I gave you permission to buy me drinks, I didn't tack any extra promises on the end," I said.
He sighed. "Well, I need to test it out anyway," he muttered to himself, reaching into his coat pocket. I stepped back, tensing to run. He looked at me.
"No, no, no, don't go anywhere, just watch," he said, bringing up a perfume bottle. I narrowed my eyes, and held my breath, leg muscles tensing.
But he brought the bottle up to his own face, and sprayed it twice. He tucked it away, smiling at me.
"Well?" he said.
I dived at him and kissed him hard.
The sick thing was, I remember every detail of that night. And even sicker, it was good. I remembered enjoying it. But I knew it was just the effect of whatever drugs had been used. I woke up, in my bed, naked and alone. He had long gone, and good for him too, because once I started thinking clearly, my thoughts were all on revenge. I used what I could. Hacked into the police database and ran through faces, looking for him. But he wasn't there. I had nothing else to go on, so I just left it be. What else could I do? It was a half-hearted attempt in the first place. I ended up finding him eventually, but in the oddest way.
I was in the hospital, in the ER, six months later. I'd forgotten all about him. Put it behind me. I was the kind of person who would hang onto something for as long as it took to figure out if I could avenge it, and if I couldn't with a convenient level of ease, I just let it go. So there I was, in for a minor injury. I'd sprained my wrist, in the stupidest way imaginable. Slipping on a patch of wet ground. My life was so boring since Canary Wharf.
And then this group of people had rushed in, hauling a man in with them, yelling for help. I almost ignored them, but I glanced at the man they were holding, and I recognized him. The man from the bar. Oh, he was beat up bad, but it was him. Unforgettable face he had, something only a mother could love. Butt-ugly.
I got up, and I walked after them. He was in surgery for an hour. Animal attack apparently. I found his name, peeking over the shoulder of one of the men who had brough him in while they were filling out the information form. Owen Harper he was. And that was just the beginning. The beginning of my story, which started as revenge. My life had been boring for a year and a half. Now, I had a hobby. And I would get so much more.