A/N: Too many ideas are coming to mind. Stop making me creative, Torchwood. ...only don't. 8D

This here's a prologue. Probably quite a few cameos to be had in the future, and not even necessarily Torchwood or Doctor Who. Although the Doctor and John Hart are certain to have larger roles. Let's start with Rose Tyler, shall we?

A long time ago, today, there was a great battle on Sattelite Five. A man died in his second heroic act, dedicated to the human woman and the Time Lord that had changed his life. The woman, filled with all space and time, but also every human love and mercy, brought the man back.

However, she could not control her powers, and so brought him back for all of eternity- or, at least, until old age could grasp him, millions of billions of years later, on a far different earth. And she saw that, too, even before she brought him back the first time.

She saw also the man's lover die in his arms, a few years later in her own personal history, about two thousand two hundred years later in his. And then the next day, in the same instant, she saw the man kill his grandson, tears as thick as the screams inside his head.

She saw him suffer for centuries, a mere ghost of his previous self as he aged alone. She hurt for him; she hurt for thousands, but his life was so close to hers, to the one she could see herself experiencing, first alone and then with that clone of a Doctor. But at least she had that clone; he had nothing.

And so, in her vastly human love and affection and mercy, she brought back the man's last proper lover, too. But she could not control it, and so, as she saw, he was not brought back mere moments after his death but now, in the moment she was standing in- two hundred thousand years after his death, give or take.

Time and space were removed from her mind, and so she forgot.

Today, in the same moment as she forgets, in Old Cardiff, a city long ago destroyed by a particularly violent rift storm, in the basement of the castle that, still standing, has been converted into a Natural History museum, a decaying skeleton starts to shift, ligaments curling around strengthening calcium, the half-hollow bones filling with marrow. Muscles start to knit across the surface, slow but certain.

A day later, a poor young aide will nearly suffer a heart attack at the sudden, hysteric screams coming from the Twenty-First Century exhibit.