Love That Never Dies

Doctor Who fanfiction

Chapter 1


by: BiBiBaby
Rachel Rosenburg. That's my name. It was given to me when I was sixteen by a young woman who saved my life. Jane Rosenburg. I couldn't tell her my real name, what if something had happened between my time and 2010 that made my name a dangerous liability? So she named me, more or less claiming me as her sister. Well, less really. She just called me Rachel I chose to take on her surname when I got- .... I should just start over. But where to begin..? It's all a bit jumbled you see. I suppose I can start when I met him.
I was born Emili McClary on january the fifth, 1909, to a family with absolutely nothing and seven older siblings in London, England.
"Emili!! Get to your dam room already!" Mother shouted at me as Father walked outside, I was seven then, and Father was going away to France to help fight in the war. "Don't make me forget to be nice you little cow!" She screamed.
Fearing punishment, I ran to my room in the cellar. It wasn't very warm or homey, or spacious or even comfortable. But I found solace there when the family took out the anger on me, as so often they did. They worst they ever did was smack my face a bit, which still stung like the Dickens, but it could have been worse. I looked down at my ratty little dress. It was the same one that all three of my sisters had worn when they were my size, and it showed. Holes and roughly patched up cloth, as well as dirt stains covered the burlap like fabric. I tried to imagine it was a beautiful ballgown, I tried to pretend I was a princess or a fairy, or even just a grownup with a nice dress on. But the smell of the ground around me and the sound of Mother cursing at my brothers and sisters made it impossible to think about.
It was nearly sunset, which meant that the Nick was open and I could go get tea and sleep a little bit or help the cops with their work.
I snuck out the cellar door and ran to the Cop Shop on our side of the city and went inside.
"Hello?" I called softly.
"Emi!" answer Officer Jones, smiling in a way that only he could smile. He was an old man, I knew his granddaughter, but he acted like a young man.
"Am I too late?"
"No! Never, I always save some for you, Little Bird." He stood up and I followed him to the little lounge room where he handed me a little plate with a biscuit, a tin cup with warm tea in it, and a little bit of lamb. I took it happily and ate. It was always good, Misses Jones always made his tea and supper, and he always left some for me.
He smiled and left me to my meal, but kept in my sight, because if something went wrong I had to keep a lookout and take care of him, it was only fair.
After I finished we did the rounds, we walked up and down the street, checked on all the inmates and then he sat me down and helped me with my little lesson book that Misses Jones had bought for me.

"Alright Little Bird, it's nearly midnight. Off to bed with you."
"Bye." I smiled and ran back to my bedroom in the cellar basement of my family's house.
It had been like this since I was five, and it always would be. Because everyone knows that people can't become better on their own.
I turned eight a month ago, not that I got any kind of celebration, but it was a good number. So said Misses Jones, who had added a little slice of rum cake to my dinner that night.
I heard Officer Jones say that I needed to be careful lately, he said that the Central Powers were making trouble all over the place for Great Britain.
I obeyed him and I was very careful when I went home.
One night, I think it was in late February, I saw two really strange things above the city, chasing each other in the sky, Officer Jones had said they were called biplanes and that if I wasn't careful they could hurt me very badly. I sneaked through the well lit street, it was the middle of the day so I probably stuck out like a... like a... like an eight year old trying to hide from two planes dogfighting.
I ducked in fear, shaking as they made the loud sounds of their weapons firing angrily, I gave up my sneaking and ran for my house. I passed up a small group of adults and a funny looking Police Box, but I ignored them as I came to my house.

It appeared empty, I imagined that the sound of the fight had scared them away. I went into the biggest room, and sat down. I started to calm down a bit, but then there was another terrible, horrible awful sound. It started as the guns above, then it turned into a roaring and finally the terrible crashing of a cloth-wrapped biplane into the roof of my house. IT continued it's crash through the neighborhood, but its flames had scorched the framework. Which soon collapsed under its burdened heated weight. The flaming beams knocked me down, searing my thighs and, as I landed, my back. I screamed as even my dress started to catch fire.
Smoke and dust made it hard to breathe and see. I remember, thinking in my eight year old mind 'Let me die...' And I laid there in terrible pain for what felt like forever.
But then I felt someone pick me up. A young woman, a very pretty young woman, I groaned in agony at her touch to the burns on my body.
"Shhh, it's going to be alright little one, you'll see." I couldn't see her face extremely clearly as she carried me out of the smoldering flaming, destroyed wreckage, "You just hang on there kiddo."
She had a funny accent, I smiled slightly, but everything became very dark very suddenly, and I didn't wake up for a long time.


Eventually, I did wake up. I looked around, the room I was in was very like my own, it smelled like my cellar the edge of London, it even felt like my cellar at the edge of London! But it was much to big, and the bed was far too soft and warm and clean. I jumped up and stepped away from the bed, I suddenly saw that my nasty dishcloth dress was scorched and falling apart worse now than it had been before! I stepped back, Mother was going to kill me... !!
"Mother?!" I shouted, turning my face up toward the ceiling. She did not answer. I called for each of my siblings, even Father, but no one said I word. I was forced to realize that the burning memory I had had actually taken place. My family... was gone.
This was just starting to sink in when the door opened and a very thin man, with spiky hair, wearing a light brown striped suit, a strange looking tie, glasses and shoes that I'd never seen before. Before he said a word I found myself running behind the bed and ducking down out of his sight.
He watched me for a moment, "Hey there, it's alright, I'm not going to hurt you..."
His voice was really kind, like he was talking to a kitten or something, I peeked over the top of my bed for a moment. He was bent down, knees on the floor, holding his hand toward me, smiling.
I watched him quietly, Officer Jones always said I shouldn't talk to people I don't know.
"I'm called the Doctor, what's your name?" he asked, his tone still trying to soothe me. I felt a little more comfortable with this man.
"E-Emili." I said simply. Not forgetting Officer Jones no matter what.
"That's a very pretty name. Do you legs still hurt Emili? Would you like a new dress?"
I just stared at him, suddenly a very pretty voice echoed in my mind.
It's alright Emili, you can trust him. He is a good man, he wants to help you.
I didn't know who that woman was, but she sounded very kind, and honest. So I stepped out from behind my bed, "M-mother will be very upset if my dress is ruined."
He smiled and held his hand closer, but I didn't take it. He scared me a little bit, even if the kind woman had said he was friendly. He looked a but confused, but straightened up, "Here I'll show you where we can get you a new one."
I followed him out of my room, then I stopped. There was a long hallway, many doors on both walls, each one was decorated differently, I couldn't really tell from where, but one looked like the entrance to a cave with a rock in the way, one had a fluffy carpet, one was just beads hanging from the ceiling! I locked back at mine and I saw that it was a plain wooden door, just like the one at my home.
"Wh-what is this place?" I demanded, though my voice shook like a clothes line in a storm.
"It's called the TARDIS."


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