AUTHOR'S NOTE! PLEASE READ!

Hi folks, stupid_nickel here. So, normally I don't like Doctor who stories when people create a Time Lady and stick her into the Doctor's life, I dunno why, I guess there's a point to him being the last of his kind. Don't get me wrong, I do like SOME of them (especially ones that are well written), but I guess it's not really my thing.

Which is why I'm cursing the plot bunnies right now. They just about chewed my damn leg off on the drive home, telling me that, if I didn't write this, they would beat me with a rubber hose like a red-necked step-child.* Thus, "Help Me!" was born. Now, I don't know where exactly I'm going with this (do I ever?) but I do have some main plot points in my head.

Fair warning to anyone reading, she's going to be at Torchwood for a while. Before she meets the Doctor, I mean. It's a tad AUish because Owen, Tosh, and Ianto are all still alive. I love them and, for the story to go the way I want, I need them alive!

This is not, I repeat NOT an 11th Doctor/OC story. I SWEAR! It would be kind of creepy for...reasons that you'll have to read to find out! Mwahaha. If anything, they will be friends.

All I can say is please give it a shot and bear with me. :)

Also, any and all constructive criticism is accepted with open arms (but please no flame) so feel free to tell me editing stuff/major plot issues in reviews or PMs.

Final notes. xXx means a page break. There won't be giant Author's notes at the beginning of every chapter. I will respond to reviews at the top of each chapter, but you can feel free to skip them. I also will give a disclaimer now that serves for the entire story. I do not, repeat do NOT, own Doctor Who. I've got Moffat on Skype right now and we're negotiating, but as of the moment, it ain't mine...yes, "ain't" is a word, look it up ;)

Reviews will get you the 11th Doctor's trousers. Here in Canada, we call them "pants." Now, these aren't just any old trousers, but Hypertrousers. Very similar to normal trousers, but with the word "hyper" in front!

Chapter 1

Ianto sighed. When would Jack and the others learn? You needed to organize the files before putting them into the archives! How else was Ianto supposed to find them at a later date? He knew—it was inevitable, really—that he would be the one that would have to locate said files when everyone else needed them again. Honestly, sometimes Ianto felt they treated him worse than a bloody intern.

Owen was by far the worst! He did everything in his power to make Ianto's job more difficult, whether intentional or not (though, Ianto was leaning towards intentional). Owen never cleaned up after himself, he ordered Ianto around, and absolutely insisted on handwriting everything in his damnable doctor's scrawl so that Ianto had to find them in the archives, decipher and type them up, and then re-file them!

Strange, how the laziest of the Torchwood team members put so much effort into making Ianto's life a living Hell…

Grumbling to himself, Ianto decided that it was high-time Torchwood Three had digital archives—even if only as a back-up system. Several file folders tucked under his arm, Ianto headed out of the archives, taking it upon himself to create the system. He rolled his eyes; it wasn't as if anyone else would be bothered. They were all too busy hunting down rogue aliens, cracking the codes on alien tech, rounding up stray Weevils, and performing autopsies on God-knows-what. Meanwhile, Ianto simply made the coffee. Ianto pretended to be a worker at a tourist information center. Ianto organized and cleaned.

"Ianto saves everyone's asses on a daily basis," he muttered angrily to no one. He sighed; sometimes he just wished that—

The folders dropped to the floor, papers scattering around and creating a gigantic mess, but Ianto didn't worry about that right now. There had been a loud crash coming from Containment Cell Block A, and he was already off running towards it. Pulling his pistol from his waistband, Ianto flipped off the safety and held it down by his side, slowing to a walk as he neared the cell block—he prepared himself for anything that might happen.

Hearing a shrill, agonized scream coming from one of the cells, however, was not something Ianto had been expecting. Breaking into a sprint, Ianto was outside the door and punching the password into the keypad to open it, milliseconds later. He was floored by the sight he was greeted with.

A Weevil was hunched over, teeth bared, with a bloody hand, prepared to strike once again at a young girl who was lying on the floor, writhing in agony. Her blonde, waist-length curls were splayed around her head, her delicate features twisted in pain, eyes screwed shut, and teeth clenched to hold back another scream. Her back had been arched—probably from a convulsion that had occurred when she was attacked—but now slumped to the floor with a dull thud. She wore navy-blue yoga pants, a fitted, pink, sleeveless halter-top, and white flats. She also wore a thick, leather band around her left wrist, much like the one Jack always had, Ianto noted. Blood covered just about every inch of her body and clothing from where it had sprayed—and now poured steadily—out of the five long, deep, gruesome-looking gashes in her abdomen.

Without a moment's thought, Ianto shot the Weevil thrice in the head, killing it before it could finish off the girl. He quickly tucked away his pistol and knelt by her side, hands hovering over her, not sure how exactly to help.

The girl tried to hold back her tears but, like the blood flowing from her wounds, they poured out of her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. Ianto didn't like the way her breathing was coming in short, ragged gasps. Hell, he didn't like any part of this damned situation! The girl whimpered painfully and Ianto's heart broke. "Oh God, oh God," he spoke rapidly as he decided what he needed to do, "I'm so sorry, but this is going to hurt." She cried out once again and tried to pull away as Ianto applied pressure to her wounds, trying desperately to slow the blood flow. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized profusely, "but I'm trying to help. I really am! You need to stay still. I'm so sorry!"

The late realization that he needed help had him reaching for his earpiece.

xXx

Owen chuckled to himself; Ianto was going to hate him for this! His latest report on Weevil anatomy (he'd discovered some very interesting facts about their teeth; and by interesting, he meant bloody boring as hell) was done entirely in pen; a pen that was low on ink. He chuckled darkly at the faded words. However, the pièce de résistance was the fact that Owen had written the entire, five-page report in short-hand. He laughed to himself gleefully; Ianto was going to have a field day!

What Owen found the most humorous was the fact that Ianto actually thought he was lazy. Okay…so he was lazy, but come on. Who else would learn short-hand just to bother Ianto? Hell, he had to come up with a new, original trick at least once a week, every week! A lot of time and effort went into bugging Ianto and Owen was damn proud of it.

So when Ianto came onto the coms unit, Owen couldn't help but smirk. "Ianto," he crowed, leaning back into his chair, kicking his feet up onto his examination table, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Ianto's reply was short and frantic, his voice taking on a panicky edge, "Guys! Owen!" the coms unit crackled, "I need you down in Cell Block A, number 534, RIGHT NOW!"

Owen sat up straighter at that. Something was off; Ianto sounded really worried. The two always had a bit of banter before finding out what the other needed. For Ianto to cut to the chase like that…it had the hairs on the back of Owen's neck standing on end. "Hey, hey, hey, calm down, Yan," he said soothingly, eyebrows scrunching together, "tell me what's wrong? What's going on with the Weevils?"

"Just get down here!" Ianto screeched before the coms cut out.

"Yan? Ianto! Damn it!" Owen growled. He was immediately up and moving. Not sure what to expect in the cell block, Owen quickly grabbed one of his many med-bags, and sprinted deep into the heart of the Hub. Whatever was going on, it had Ianto really scared. Holding the med-bag in one hand and his pistol in the other, Owen willed his legs to move faster. "God, Yan," he muttered to himself as he ran, "what did you get yourself into this time?!"

When he finally reached cell number 534, Owen gasped. He shook his head in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. He was damn glad he brought supplies.

In the corner of the cell was a dead Weevil, three bullet holes in its head. Beside it, Ianto was huddled over a girl—teenager, by the looks of it—pressing down on her abdomen while blood pooled on the floor around the two. The girl wasn't moving, deathly pale, and barely breathing. Ianto looked up at Owen, his eyes wild and desperate as he tried to stop the blood. He said two words—two pleading words—that, to this day, Owen would never forget.

"Help me!"

xXx

Captain Jack, Gwen, and Toshiko caught up to Ianto and Owen just as they reached the medical bay. Owen carried his med-bag, throwing it haphazardly onto the floor as he cleared off the examination table, creating a makeshift gurney. Ianto ran in after him, carrying the girl in his arms. She was barely conscious, but still whimpered painfully every once in a while. Ianto laid her out onto the gurney as gently as he could, but it still elicited a sharp gasp from her. He apologized once again while Owen quickly placed a tube that delivering the much-needed oxygen underneath her nostrils.

Tosh's hand flew up to cover her mouth as she gasped, Gwen murmuring an "Oh, dear Lord," under her breath when they saw the girl. Jack's eyes grew wide. "What the hell happened?!" he asked softly. Owen ignored them, lost in his work. He hooked her up to as many machines he could think of; a heart-monitor clipped onto her index finger, wires from an EKG machine stuck to her chest and arms, IV in her hand, and an assortment of other tubes and wires.

Ianto hurriedly explained to Jack and the girls how he'd heard a scream and found the girl, near death, in one of the Weevil containment cells. All the while, he followed Owen's orders to "pass me that," and "could you grab me some more bandages." Jack, Gwen, and Tosh watched helplessly as Owen pulled bloodied bandages off of the poor girl's abdomen, muttering estimated numbers of stitches her wounds would need under his breath and worrying about her drastically quickening heart-rate.

The girl on the table gasped and shuddered anytime anyone touched her, which was often; it was a horrifying sight. Jack moved to her side and held her hand in his, hoping that it would at least provide a small amount of comfort to her. Her eyelids were squeezed tightly shut as she struggled for air, her eyes moving back and forth frantically under them. Jack's brows furrowed as he frowned deeply—he wasn't sure the girl would make it through the night.

In order to stitch her up, Owen had to sedate her. But, before he could, her heart-rate spiked impossibly high before ceasing completely. Everyone froze, staring at the flat line. Half a second later, Owen was over the girl's body, performing CPR, desperately trying to revive her. Tears pricked at Tosh's eyes; the girl was so young, she couldn't die now!

Gasping in a breath of air like she'd been deprived for weeks, the girl's eyes flew open. Her shocked expression quickly turned to pain and panic as she became lucid. "Hey, hey," Owen tried to sooth the shaking girl, "it's going to be alright. We're here to help."

"Owen," Jack warned his chief medical officer, staring at the girl and backing away slowly, pulling Gwen and Tosh with him. Ianto's eyes grew wide as he followed suit.

Ignoring him, Owen continued, "I'm going to sedate you briefly, but just so that I can fix you up without it hurting, okay?" Jack bounded up to him, confusion, horror, and awe all distinctly outlined on his face. He grabbed Owen by the shoulders, attempting to pull him back. "Get off!" Owen growled, trying to shake the Captain.

"Damn it, Owen!" Jack barked. "Look at her hands!" Owen gasped as he finally understood why the others were backing away. He allowed Jack to lead him a safe distance from her, his eyes large as saucers.

The girl looked at her body with terrified eyes. She held a hand in front of her face, grimacing at the sharp twist of pain in her stomach when she moved, and gasped. A soft gold glow—not just a glow, an energy—was building. She could feel her body getting hotter and hotter, so hot that she couldn't stand the pain anymore. She felt like her entire body was on fire. She started to scream when she exploded with the gold energy. The Torchwood Three team shielded their eyes from the light, but not Jack. He knew exactly what was happening, though he could hardly believe it.

The light intensified once more before dimming slowly. The shocked members of Torchwood uncovered their eyes, just in time to watch the gold shrink back completely, the girl's screams dying with it. "What?!" cried Ianto, his brows shooting sky-high and his jaw dropping.

There was no longer a bloodied, blonde teenager lying on the gurney. In her place was a young brunette, all the tubes and wires hooked up to her the same way they'd been the other girl. She sat up quickly, hands flying to her stomach as she inspected it. Apparently satisfied by the smooth skin of her abdomen, she tried to catch her breath. "Well, that wasn't very fun," she breathed before her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell back down.

Jack looked at the members of his team; Gwen's eyes had bugged out of their sockets, the wheels were turning in Tosh's head as she tried to mentally dissect the situation, Ianto was slack-jawed, and Owen was doing an impressive imitation of a fish, his mouth repeatedly opening and shutting. Jack rubbed his jaw and sighed.

Things had certainly just gotten interesting.