Hellfire

Chapter 1: Wilson, Gold and Swan

"Yeah, well, I'm not ginger," the other replied. "Rude and not ginger, my friend used to call me."

"Who's your friend?" the red haired woman asked.

"Good Lord, you're full of questions, aren't you, human?" the brunette remarked. "If I answer you, will you shut up?"

"Probably," the redhead replied. The latter turned around to stare down the redhead.

"Good. My name is the Rogue. My friend was the Doctor. He had a friend called the Professor. I'm an alien. Time Lord, or Lady if you like. I live in a time and space machine nicknamed the TARDIS. I'm here to blow up this building to stop your planet from being invaded," the Rogue said. "Now, shunt off, would you?" The Rouge started running up the stairs again.

Of course, the redhead didn't shunt off. She just continued to follow the Rogue, who sighed loudly.

"Well, if you insist on following me, I might as well ask you the same question you asked me," Rogue said. "Who are you?"

"Charlotte Wilson," the redhead said.

"Good to know," Rogue said, reaching the top of the stairs, and pulling a makeshift bomb out of her trench coat. "Now. This is a bomb. Gonna blow up in about thirty seconds after I start it. Big explosion. If you don't want to get killed, I suggest running as far as possible from this building."

"Well, how are you going to survive?" Charlotte demanded.

"Don't worry about me. I always survive, unfortunately," the Rogue sighed. She waved the bomb at Charlotte. "Can't say it was a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte Wilson. Now. Run." The Rogue pulled open the emergency exit and went outside.

...

The rest of the day passed without any incident. Day turned to afternoon, afternoon to evening and evening to dusk with a beautiful sunset. She was tired, but didn't want to sleep. Deep circles seemed permanently set under her eyes, and coffee grounds always covered her kitchen counter. She sat on the couch, mug of coffee curled in her hands, falafel on the side counter next to her. She wanted to do something, but was overly reluctant to leave her perch on the couch with the comforts of caffeine and falafel. Except her eyes were starting to grow heavy, and being faced with sleep wasn't all that appealing either.

Sleep meant being faced with the horrors of her life again. Sleep meant the dreams approached, taking over her mind with a vice-like grip, placing a hand over her mouth and shoving her into the icy waters of memories, drowning her with the pain of recollecting. Sleep meant pain, and she would not deal with more of that.

Thankfully, a loud knock on her door shook her from her thoughts. Still cradling the coffee, she walked to the door, opening it, and was faced with a very familiar and entirely unwelcome face.

"Question for you, Gold," Liz said, hiding her shock. "Do people like it more when you appear out of nowhere, like an apoplexy, or slowly approach, like a cancer?"

"Never been asked that," Gold said, chillily. "Just here to collect rent."

"Have fun," Lizzie told him. Gold smiled without emotion.

"I will," he said.

"I don't doubt that," Liz stated, passing him the money, before closing the door, leaving Mr. Gold with his rent-collecting duties.

...

The next day, Elizabeth woke up early again, going to watch the sunrise, same as always. It seemed to be the only constant. The world would evolve and die, but it'd always be the same sunrise in the east and sunset in the west, or at least, for as long as she lived. She didn't notice anything odd until she reached the square and out of habit looked up to the clock tower. The clock! It had changed! The clock never changed. It had rusted years ago. Everyone knew that. But apparently, it wasn't rusted anymore.