Hello! So I'm pretty sure I deserve to have an angry mob after me for what I've done.

Yes, I know this story has been on hold for well over a year, and you guys have no idea how sorry I am about that. I don't even have a reasonable excuse, other than that I kind of lost my motivation when it came to this story. After I messed up the last time I tried rewriting this, I considered abandoning this project, but the truth is I really want to finish this, so I'm going to try again : )

Anyway, what I've decided to do is go back and split up the episodes slightly differently and basically just clean this story up a bit. I've done the same to a few other of my older stories too, so things seem to be moving again : )

Then I'll hopefully be back to updating properly again. I make no promises, but I won't be starting any new stories until I've made decent progress with my older stories.

You guys deserve to have these finished after all : )

Anyway, I apologise again for the long wait, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Please remember that Doctor Who is not mine : )

Touch of an Angel

The Angel

With a loud grinding noise and a gust of wind which scattered some fallen leaves and discarded rubbish, a large blue police box materialised in the garden of an abandoned house.

Two figures stepped out.

The first person was a tall, lanky man with wild brown hair, wearing a sharp brown suit with pale blue pinstripes, and a long tan coloured overcoat.

He turned to his companion, a beautiful dark-skinned woman with her long black hair tied into a ponytail, wearing blue jeans and a reddish brown leather jacket, with a bright grin on his face.

"London! 2007, 22nd of September, and it is a… Saturday!" the man beamed in delight, "Brilliant, I love Saturdays!"

The woman rolled her eyes fondly at him, a bright smile on her own face, but it slowly faded as she took in their surroundings.

The police box had appeared in what the woman could only describe as… a real dump!

It was a spooky old house which had fallen into disrepair, surrounded by a garden overgrown with ivy and wild flowers and nettles. Rubbish and junk had been abandoned in the garden, and the iron gates were chained shut with a 'KEEP OUT, DANGER' sign hanging over them.

"And we've landed in the gardens of…" the man started to say.

"A right dump" the woman cut over him bluntly.

The man turned to her, a playful scowl on his face.

"Now Martha, never judge a book by its cover!" he waved a playfully reproachful finger in the woman's, Martha's, face.

"Oh come on Doctor, you can't seriously want to stop here!" Martha scoffed in distain, gesturing around them at the rundown house and grounds.

"I can and I do" the man, the Doctor, grinned at her, "There's something funny about this house. Time distortions and weird energies, and they all converge on this spot, this day, so we are here to investigate!"

And without waiting for a reply, the Doctor hurried off towards the front door, going through it and tearing down some ivy in the process.

Martha scowled.

The whole of time and space at their disposal… and they come to a creepy old house that probably could only be fixed using a bulldozer… nice.

Shaking her head, Martha hurried off after him.

As he crossed the threshold of the house, the Doctor barely supressed a shiver. The time distortions were even worse inside. He could feel them, in his guts. He shivered again.

He was a Time Lord, the last of the Time Lords, and that meant that it was his responsibility to protect the fabric of time itself. No easy feat.

And because time in this spot was bending into impossible patterns, it was his duty to investigate, and put a stop to whatever was causing it.

The last thing anyone needed was a great big whopping hole in the middle of history.

But looking around, the Doctor saw exactly what he expected to see.

A rundown, disgusting old hovel.

The floorboards were rotted and creaking, there was little to no furniture, the windows were all plastered in grime and mud, and everything was covered in dust.

When he heard a noise, the Doctor turned back towards the way he had come in, and saw Martha looking around, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips.

"You sure about this?" Martha cast a dark look around at the bleak hallway, "The whole place looks like it'll come crashing down any minute".

"I really wanna know" he winked at her, heading off into one of the rooms, his sonic screwdriver in hand.

"What am I meant to do?" she called after him, sounding annoyed.

"You could go check upstairs if you like" the Doctor called back from the room his was in.

Martha shook her head in frustration and eyed the stairs darkly.

They didn't look very strong to her. She let out a sigh. If she fell through them and ended up with a broken leg, she was going to take the sonic screwdriver and shove it somewhere on the Doctor that would be very painful!

Nervously, Martha took the first step, letting out a relieved breath when it didn't collapse beneath her weight.

Cautiously taking the next one, she eventually made it up to the second floor, only to find it in the same crumbling, ruined state as the ground floor.

She steeled herself for the task at hand.

The sooner they finished whatever it was the Doctor wanted to do, the sooner they could go somewhere else. Somewhere much better.

Preferably an intergalactic spa with space alcohol and cabana boys singing for her entertainment as she relaxed in a nice mud bath.

Edging into the first bedroom, Martha wrinkled her nose in disgust.

The room was covered in dust, grime, and even what appeared to be long dried up blood. She shivered. No, it wasn't blood. It was a patch of damp. She let out a breath she wasn't even aware she had been holding in.

This place was seriously starting to get to her.

Her nerves were completely on edge.

Concluding that there was nothing of interest in the room, Martha gladly scuttled out of it again and ventured into the next room, only to find it as unremarkable as the last. There was only one more room for her to check, and then hopefully they could get the hell out of there.

She had a very bad feeling about the house after all.

The sooner they left, the happier she'd be.

Shuffling into the room right at the end of the hallway, Martha stepped inside, and frowned at what stood before her.

What she saw was something she definitely had not been expecting.

It was a large stone statue, taller than her, in the shape of an angel. It was beautiful to be honest, and Martha couldn't help but admire it. It was pale and graceful. Its hands were covering its eyes, which Martha thought was very fitting.

It was symbolic.

Almost as though the angel was crying because the house was falling apart.

"A crying angel" Martha whispered to herself.

She absentmindedly ran her hand along the angel's cold, stone arm.

It was positioned by the grimy window, and curiosity getting the better of her, Martha looked out to see two more of the crying angel statues placed in the garden below.

She didn't notice the angel behind her now peering over its hands, its eyes narrowed on her back.

Martha frowned slightly.

She couldn't help but feel as though someone was watching her.

Squinting through the dirt smeared window, Martha couldn't see anyone in the garden, but it was there… that prickling feeling on the back of her neck.

Something was watching her, and she couldn't see who.

It wasn't doing her already frazzled nerves any good.

When the sensation grew too intense, Martha whirled on the spot, and numbly felt her jaw drop open.

It had moved!

The statue in the room had moved!

Unable to comprehend what it was she was seeing, Martha backed away from the angel, before peering towards the door as she heard the floorboard outside creak.

Thankfully there was nothing there, but when Martha turned around again, she yelped and jumped back.

The angel had moved towards her, its beautiful face twisted horrifically and baring vicious-looking fangs. Its hand was outstretched towards her, now sporting great terrible claws.

It didn't look remotely like an angel anymore.

"Doctor!" she cried in alarm, turning her head in the direction of the door.

"Martha?" she heard the Doctor's muffled response from down the stairs, as she turned back towards her attacker.

She screamed in terror.

The angel had moved again and was now towering over her, reaching towards her with both arms. Panicking, Martha stumbled backwards out of the doorway into the hall.

The angel appeared in the door and froze.

"Why…?" Martha whimpered.

She never saw it move, it just seemed to... switch, in those moments she wasn't looking at it.

"Martha!" she heard the Doctor yell again.

"Doctor, there's this thing… this weird angel thing!" she screamed in the direction of the stairs, keeping her eyes trained on the statue this time.

She heard the Doctor starting up the stairs, but at that moment Martha heard a door creak open behind her, and with wide panicked eyes, she turned and saw another of the angel statues, the forth one in total, standing behind her, reaching out to her.

With dread filling her stomach, Martha realised her mistake too late.

By turning to face the angel behind her... she had taken her eyes off the angel she had been looking at...

"DOCTOR!" she screamed, completely terrified.

She felt a pressure on her back, a finger pressed between her shoulder blades, and then Martha's world faded into darkness, the sound of the Doctor screaming her name being the last noise she heard.

With a sudden jolt, Martha was slammed back into reality and she gasped, opening her eyes wearily, trying to get her breathing under control.

She had absolutely no idea what the hell had just happened.

She had been screaming for the Doctor to save her, she remembered there was a threat, two angels if she remembered correctly, and they had had her cornered.

She had felt one touch her back and then there was an unpleasant sensation. Like something tugging at her insides, or being forced through a very tight tube, and then… she was here… wherever here was.

But it was more the how than the where that was bothering her.

"D…Doctor!" she called out, her voice a little raspy due to the awful pressure she had felt when the angel had touched her.

There was no reply.

"Doctor!" she called out again, a little louder this time.

Still nothing.

He wasn't there.

The Doctor wasn't there with her.

She was all alone.

Martha's breathing soon went haywire, desperately trying to get oxygen into her panicking body as she started hyperventilating.

"Ok… ok ok ok ok, calm down! Come on Martha, breath, slowly…ok" Martha said to herself, making herself calm down slightly.

She just needed a plan, than everything would be fine.

That was what she was telling herself anyway.

"Ok, just need a plan, that's all I need" Martha tried hard to reassure herself.

Points of the plan: -

Number one – Find out where you are.

Number Two – Find the Doctor.

Number Three – Find out how you got here.

Number Four – Kill the Doctor for putting you in this situation in the first place.

In order to achieve the first part of her plan, Martha forced her protesting body to get to her feet, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her, and she looked around at her surroundings.

The room she found herself in was rather dark and very grim.

It looked like some kind of warehouse.

No.

Judging by the stairs in the corner next to a set of closed lift doors, Martha surmised that she was in a basement. Boxes and desks were scattered about in no kind of order. It was just a mess of furniture.

One thing did set alarm bells off though.

There were creepy mannequins that were wearing slightly out of date clothes but not too different to the styles of 2007. Maybe two or three years old, tops.

"Oooo…kay" Martha drew the word out, similar to how the Doctor usually did.

She immediately reached the conclusion that she was in a shop's basement, but which shop, and not which brand but more the shop's actual location, was still evading her, which sadly was the information that was she most concerned for at that moment.

Suddenly the sound of the lift doors opening met her ears, causing Martha to jump in alarm.

At least that meant that the shop was still in use and wasn't some abandoned shop she had got into somehow. She scooted back into the shadows to avoid being seen as a figure came out of the lift and into the basement.

It was a girl.

A girl in either her late teens or early twenties, with a head of clearly dyed blonde hair, dressed in a pink hoodie and jeans. She was wearing a little too much make up for Martha's tastes, and she had warm brown eyes and was very beautiful.

Martha bet she was the type of girl that attracted a LOT of male attention.

Martha knew that she had to get out, that she needed to go find the Doctor, but when the girl spoke, Martha found herself frozen in her place in the shadows.

"Wilson!" she called out.

The blonde stepped into the dark basement and started walking slowly towards where Martha was hiding. Martha remained silent, watching the girl closely.

When she was out of sight, Martha could go up in the lift and escape unnoticed.

She just needed the girl to move.

"Wilson, I've got the lottery money" the girl called, "Wilson?"

Martha looked around for the man, praying that neither the girl nor this Wilson bloke wouldn't pop out and see her hiding in the shadows.

Getting arrested was something she did not need to happen today!

"You there? Look, I can't hang about 'cause they're closing the shop. Wilson!" Martha heard the girl grumble irritably, "Oh, come on!"

The girl sounded tired, and Martha deduced that she had probably been working all day and just wanted to go home.

Martha sighed, looking relieved.

The girl still hadn't seen her. Clearly she wasn't a threat.

"Hello? Hello Wilson it's Rose!" the girl, Rose, called out into the darkness.

Martha's heart stopped.

Her throat went dry.

Her stomach fell out from under her as that last word shocked her to her core.

A Londoner… a blonde… beautiful… and her name was Rose.

Was it a just coincidence?

Could it just be a coincidence?

Was that possible?

It couldn't really be her could it?

The girl… she couldn't be that Rose. She must just be a Rose but not the Rose.

Not the 'Rose... Rose, her name was'.

Could this girl possibly be the Doctor's Rose?

No.

No way.

It couldn't be.

The Doctor always spoke as if the girl had died, or at least, with the same tone he had used when he had pretended that Gallifrey hadn't been destroyed. Overwhelming desire.

But he was so tight-lipped about his past and himself that Martha hadn't gleamed anything else about this Rose person.

So over the course of their time travelling together, Martha had eventually come to the conclusion that Rose had died in some awful way and that in an attempt to ease the pain of losing her, the Doctor pretended that she was alive somewhere but that he couldn't get to her or ever see her again.

That way he didn't have to truly grieve her, not if she was still alive somewhere else.

And that proved it.

That settled the matter.

Because even if Rose was alive or not, if she was in the afterlife or somewhere else, there was absolutely no way that the girl that was still there, alive and well by the looks of her and slowly coming closer and closer to the spot where Martha was hiding, could possibly be the same person.

This girl must just be a Rose.

There had to be dozens of blondes in London called Rose.

It was hardly an uncommon name after all.

Martha nodded to herself, almost certain by this point.

There was no way the girl in front of her could possibly be the infamous Rose Tyler.

And there's the prologue.

Now I know it's pretty similar to the original version, but things will start changing soon : )

Like I said at the beginning, I mainly just want to fix a few points here and there and then start getting a few new chapters up.

Anyway, once again I apologise for such a long delay, but I'm hopeful that once I've fixed all the chapters there were originally, I can get a few new ones up quite quickly to make up for it : ) Please leave a review on your way out : )

Until the next time, keep on reading : )