Hell’s Paradox

by DevilINdisguise_LUV

Summary:

After a temporal anomaly rips through the fabric of Hell itself, **Lilith, the ancient Queen of Demons** finds herself stranded in modern-day London-weakened, furious, and hunted by forces even she doesn't understand.

What happens when.... Dark meets light? When a Time Lord and The Queen of Hell become unlikely allies

10th x Oc

Chapter 1: The Cast

The Cast 

Lilith 

Portrayed by Eva Green

Quotes ;

"Not all queens start as a princess."

"Amazing what people will do when you give them a second chance."

 

Tenth Doctor 

Portrayed by David Tennant 

Quotes ; 

"For the last time Lil, we are not shoving them into a black hole... I shouldn't of shown you them!"

"Lilith once wanted to use souls instead of Money in Monopoly... because she found the original version not ethically questionable enough!"

 

Martha Jones

Portrayed by Freema Agyeman

Quotes; 

"You know, for the Mother of All Demons, you're not entirely terrible."

 

Donna Noble 

Portrayed by Catherine Tate 

Quotes;

"Oi Gothgirl, you don't scare me, you should meet my mother!"

"Thanks for making me feel better about my ex-fiance.."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

All other respectable cast

 

From season 3-4

 

 

Chapter 2: The Doctor & Lilith

He was Mercy…she was Wrath…

 

The Doctor & Lilith 

Initially, the Doctor views Lilith as a formidable threat—a primordial force of chaos with an existence that predates even the Time Lords themselves. Her essence exudes an ancient power that is both mesmerizing and unsettling, sparking a cautious sense of wariness within him. However, as he delves deeper into her story, he uncovers a different side to this enigmatic being. Lilith is not malicious; rather, she finds herself lost and adrift in a world that is foreign to her. With no clear path to return to her own realm, she is in desperate need of guidance.

What follows is a fiery, reluctant partnership Lilith, the mother of all demons and monsters, forced to travel in the TARDIS with the most infuriatingly optimistic being in the universe. She scoffs at his morality, mocks his sentimentality, and yet... she's fascinated. The Doctor, meanwhile, is equal parts wary and intrigued. He knows what she is—what she's done—but he also sees something else: a being who has been betrayed, imprisoned, and rewritten by history.

As they embarked on their journey together, navigating through the vast expanse of eerie galaxies and confronting terrifying cosmic horrors, an undeniable bond began to form between them. With each harrowing encounter and daring escape, they discovered that their paths had intertwined for a purpose greater than either had anticipated. The trials they faced not only tested their courage but also revealed hidden strengths within themselves and each other, leading them to ponder if fate had conspired to bring them together for a reason beyond mere coincidence.

But Hell hasn't forgotten its queen. And when an old enemy resurfaces, Lilith must decide: Will she reclaim her throne as the Queen of Demons... or forge a different destiny?

Chapter 3: The Start of Something Terrifyingly Beautiful

 

The start of something terrifyingly beautiful 

The Doctor was alone once again. He trudged back to the TARDIS, his well-worn Converse shoes scuffing against the cold, metallic floor of the Torchwood corridors. Each step echoed in the silence, a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded moments before. He tried to block out the dullness of his surroundings, the sterile walls devoid of life, but it was impossible. It paralleled the hollow ache that gnawed at his hearts. Rose... she was gone—trapped in a parallel universe, forever out of reach. He had saved the world yet again, but the cost had been excruciatingly too high.

With a heavy sigh that seemed to resonate through the stillness, he ran a hand through his unruly hair, feeling the weight of his sorrow and the memories of what could have been. As he approached the familiar blue box, its paint chipped and faded yet still a beacon of hope in his life, a sense of dread washed over him. He reached for the key, a gesture that should have felt mundane, but just as his fingers brushed the cold metal, a blinding flash of crimson light erupted in front of him, illuminating the corridor in a hellish glow.

Startled, the Doctor stumbled back, instinctively raising his arms to shield his eyes from the intensity of the light. The air crackled with energy, filled with a potent mix of fear and anticipation. When the blinding brilliance finally receded, he opened his eyes cautiously, only to find a woman lying crumpled on the ground before him. She appeared nearly ethereal, her skin pale as alabaster, contrasting sharply with her dark hair that was streaked with crimson blood, suggesting a recent and violent struggle.

Her body was wrapped in tattered black robes that shimmered with an otherworldly glow, as if woven from shadows and starlight. The air around her was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and something ancient—a palpable feeling of dread that sent shivers down his spine. Something was profoundly wrong, and instinctively, he knew that her presence here was anything but a coincidence.

The Doctor's instincts kicked in. "Hey! Are you alright? Can you hear me?" He knelt beside her, pressing two fingers to her neck. A pulse—slow, too slow for a human.

Her eyes fluttered open, revealing irises of molten gold. She gasped, clutching his arm with surprising strength. "You... you're the one who runs," she whispered, her voice like embers in the wind.

The Doctor frowned. "And you're the one who's collapsed in front of my Tardis. What happened to you?"

"Hell... It was attacked...My domain its lost... my children... something dragged be from it and dumped me here..." she gasped out, black blood on her lips. "Help...me Doctor."

"Hell?" His breath hitched. "Wait You know who I am?" 

A weak, bitter smile crossed her lips. "I know many things. I am Lilith." 

The name sent a chill down his spine. Lilith.The myths, the legends—the Queen of Demons in some cultures. But she wasn't just a story. She was real, and she looked like she was literally dying in front of him.

"Creatures came... haven't seen them before."

He frowned, He couldn't leave her there, so he made his decision, He scooped her up, ignoring her pained hiss, and sprinted for the Tardis. The doors flew open before he reached them, the old girl sensing his urgency.

The woman—Lilith, she'd called herself—collapsed onto the grating, breathing hard. The Tardis lights flickered, a low hum of disapproval in the air.

"Yeah, I know," the Doctor muttered, darting to the console. "Demonic hitchhiker. But she's hurt, and something's very wrong." He threw the lever, and the Tardis groaned into the Vortex.

Lilith let out a shuddering breath. "You're either very brave... or very stupid." 

"Bit of both, usually." He grabbed a medical scanner, running it over her. The readings made his stomach drop. "You're burning up from the inside. Some kind of metaphysical decay?" 

"The bond to my realm is severed. This universe rejects me." She winced as another wave of pain hit. "I don't belong here."

The Doctor exhaled sharply. "Well, that makes two of us." 

Her lips twitched. "So. What now, Doctor?"

He met her gaze, that old fire stirring in his chest. "Now, we find a way to fix it."

Lilith lay sprawled on the cold metallic grating, her breath coming in ragged gasps, each exhalation trembling with the ghost of her former regality. The rich hues of her skin, once the epitome of elegance, were now marred by the sight of black veins, which pulsed erratically beneath the surface like living shadows, slithering outward with increasing urgency.

Metaphysical decay, the Doctor thought, his mind racing with the implications of her deteriorating state. If Lilith was truly the Queen of Hell—or a Hell at the very least—then her existence was fundamentally bound to her realm. With that connection severed, it was as though her very essence was unraveling, thread by thread.

"Right," he muttered to himself, snatching a frayed cable from beneath the ancient console, its surface worn by centuries of use and travel. "You're a dimensional anchor, and your anchor's been cut. So we just need to... reanchor you."

Lilith let out a pained, ironic laugh that echoed in the cramped space. "You make it sound simple," she managed, her voice laced with both sarcasm and desperation.

"Oh, it's absolutely not," he said grimly. Kneeling beside her, he pressed the cable's exposed wires against the delicate skin of her wrist. The TARDIS responded with a low, discontented hum, her ancient machinery sensing the urgency of the situation. He shushed her with a wave of his hand. "I just need to stabilize you long enough to figure out a permanent solution."

The cable sparked, and a surge of golden energy flared brilliantly between Lilith's skin and the wire. She gasped, her back arching in a sudden spasm as the TARDIS's power poured into her like a tidal wave. The black veins receded just a fraction, but it was clear to the Doctor that this effort was merely a temporary reprieve.

"It... hurts,"she hissed, a shiver running through her as she felt the energy coursing through her body.

"Yep," the Doctor replied, a somber look in his eyes. "But it's that or dissolve into cosmic static."

He darted back to the console, frantically scanning the shifting readouts. "Okay, your essence is rejecting this reality because it's not yours. So we need something to bind you here artificially."

"And how do we do that?" she queried, her expression a mix of intrigue and apprehension.

He hesitated for a moment, allowing the weight of the situation to settle around them. Then, as if struck by a bolt of inspiration, his eyes lit up with an unmistakable spark. "A paradox!"

Lilith stared at him, uncertainty flickering in her golden eyes. "That sounds... dangerous," she said, her voice steady, though she didn't shy away from danger as long as it wasn't directed at her.

"Extremely!" He grinned widely, a glimmer of mischief igniting his typical animated demeanor. "But if we can create a localized temporal loop—a tiny, self-contained paradox—it'll act as a buffer. Your body won't reject this universe because, technically, you'll always have been here."

She narrowed her eyes, skepticism transmuting into cautious curiosity. "You want to rewrite time around me?"

"Just a little bit!" He was already typing coordinates into the console with fervent energy, fingers flying across the buttons and levers. "We'll use the TARDIS to weave a paradox loop into your timeline. It won't last forever, but it'll buy us time to fix the real problem."

Lilith exhaled slowly, bracing herself for the unknown. "Do it."

With a decisive action, the Doctor threw the lever, and the TARDIS responded with a mighty groan, her engines screaming to life as a whirl of golden energy spiraled around Lilith. The very air felt as though it fractured and bent, reality swirling around her like a shattered mirror gradually reassembling itself. As the paradox unfolded, she convulsed, a raw scream tearing from her throat.

And then—silence.

The Doctor held his breath, heart pounding in the stillness that followed.

Lilith lay still for what felt like an eternity, before she slowly sat up, blinking against the sudden clarity of her surroundings. The black veins had vanished, her breath now steady and rhythmic as she flexed her fingers, marveling at the golden sparks that danced across her skin like fireflies in the night.

"It... worked?" she questioned, incredulity coloring her tone.

"For now." The Doctor wiped beads of sweat from his brow, relief evident yet tempered by the weight of their task ahead. "But it's a patch job. The paradox will hold you together, but if we don't find a way to reconnect you to some kind of realm—any realm—eventually, the loop will collapse."

Lilith clutched the railing beside her, her form flickering between solidity and shadow, a living embodiment of the instability that still clung to her essence. The paradox had slowed her unraveling, but it wasn't enough; she could feel herself fading, like grains of sand sliding through an hourglass with each tick of time.

"Doctor," she growled, her voice strained and fraying. "I don't think the paradox worked."

"I see that... Working on it!" He leaped into action, yanking a panel open with a sense of grim urgency. Inside lay the TARDIS's glowing heart—the raw, untamed energy of the Time Vortex itself pulsing with an otherworldly rhythm. The brilliant golden light spilled across his face, casting long shadows that flickered like the echoes of time itself.

Lilith recoiled in surprise. "That's—"

"Time itself, yeah." He shot her a manic grin, eyes gleaming with fervor. "And it's going to save you."

Her gaze narrowed, a mixture of skepticism and resolution passing through her. "You want to bind me to your ship?"

"Temporarily! Think of it as... a lifeboat." He grabbed a cluster of wires, stripping the ends forcefully with his teeth. "The TARDIS exists outside normal reality. If I can tether your essence to hers, you won't reject this universe anymore—because you'll be anchored to something bigger."

As if sensing the tension in the air, the TARDIS lights dimmed in warning, flickering ominously.

"Oh, don't give me that," he chided her, feigning annoyance. "She's dying, and you've never been one to ignore a lost soul."

There was a beat of silence. Then, to his surprise, a reluctant hum of agreement resonated from the ship, a soft acknowledgment of the necessity behind their desperate plan.

Lilith watched him warily, her heart racing at the uncertainty of their next steps. "And if this fails?"

The Doctor's grin remained steadfast, a confident veil over the uncertainty they both felt. "Then we all explode in a very interesting way."

Before she could voice any further protests, he seized her wrist and pressed the exposed wires into her palm, an electric jolt surging between them.

Pain.

It was a white-hot sensation, infinite and all-consuming. Lilith screamed, the sound echoing off the walls as the energy of the Vortex surged into her, flooding her veins with fire and starlight. The TARDIS shuddered around them as her ancient systems roared in protest, the very fabric of reality trembling with the force of the bond being forged.

For a heartbeat, the universe felt as though it bent.

Then—silence.

Lilith gasped, collapsing to her knees as the overwhelming energy began to settle. The black veins were gone, erased like a fading memory. Her breath came steady, her form solid and real once more. The TARDIS's hum resonated deep in her chest, a second heartbeat thrumming in time with her own.

The Doctor exhaled, shaking yet undeniably triumphant. "There. Now you're part of the family."

Lilith, mesmerized by the golden sparks that continued to dance across her skin, marveled at the union they had created—their power now thrumming in her very essence. "I can... feel her. Your ship. She's... singing."

"Yep," he replied, his voice laced with both relief and determination. "And she'll keep you stable until we fix your connection to wherever you truly belong." He patted the console. "Just don't go poking around in her systems. She's picky."

The bond with the TARDIS pulsed through her veins, an alien warmth weaving through her very essence like threads of golden silk. It felt wrong—she was Lilith, the queen of the infernal, the sovereign of the damned, mother of monsters and demons alike and now she found herself tethered to a machine of time and light, an entity that straddled the boundaries of existence itself.

And the man who had bound her to this strange fate barely knew her at all.

Once the initial shock subsided, she marched over to him with an intensity that could scorch. "Why?" she snarled, her golden eyes ablaze with fury, like embers threatening to ignite.

The Doctor blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Why what?" he asked, his brow furrowing as he processed her sudden aggression.

"Why bond me to your ship" Her voice was raw and furious, each word a dagger laced with thorny vines of skepticism. "You don't know me. I could be a monster. I am a monster, by most definitions. And yet you shackle me to the heart of your TARDIS without a moment's hesitation?"

Unfazed, the Doctor studied her—truly studied her—with those ancient, weary eyes that seemed to carry the weight of countless universes and untold tales.

"Because you were dying," he said simply, as if it was the most obvious conclusion in the cosmos.

Lilith scoffed, her expression tight and dismissive. "And? The universe is teeming with dying things. Do you attempt to save them all?”

"No," he admitted, his voice steady as the stars. "But I save the ones I can."

She faltered at that, momentarily disarmed.

The answer hung heavy in the air, and she suspected the truth lay beneath it: The Doctor didn't know how to stop caring.

Even when it tore him apart.

"Also, it's a bit of a habit," the Doctor muttered, his gaze slipping away from her intense stare.

"A habit?" she asked, her confusion evident.

"Yep." He flicked a switch on the console, the motion mechanical, more a fidget than an action born of necessity. "Saving people. Running into danger. Taking in strays." He shot her a quick, lopsided grin that danced between mischief and sincerity. "Demonic royalty qualifies as a stray, I think."

Lilith didn't return his smile. "You're a fool."

"Probably," the Doctor replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“I could turn on you." Lilith countered, her tone laced with underlying menace.

"You could," he shot back, unfazed.

"I could destroy you." Her voice was low, dripping with the weight of her threat.

Finally, he met her fiery gaze with unwavering resolve. "But you won't."

Silence enveloped them like a heavy cloak.

"How do you know?" The question slipped from her lips, edged with curiosity and a hint of vulnerability.

He exhaled slowly, the breath escaping him like a gust of wind through autumn leaves, and for the first time since their encounter, the manic energy that usually surrounded him dimmed. Just for a moment, just enough for her to glimpse the profound burdens hidden behind his eyes.

"Because I've seen what happens to people who get lost," he said, his voice a whisper tinged with sorrow. "And no one deserves to fade away alone."

Lilith stared at him, the weight of his statement settling like stone in her chest.

Then, almost hesitantly, she glanced down at her hands—no longer decaying, no longer waning. Held.

The TARDIS hummed softly around them, a gentle reminder of the bond they now shared.

"...You really are an idiot," she muttered, incredulity seeping into her voice.

The Doctor grinned, his eyes twinkling with warmth and mischief. "Oh, absolutely."

She surveyed the familiar yet ever-mystifying interior of the TARDIS, its console glowing with an array of lights and readouts. The air around her was thick with an inexplicable energy, a pulsating bond that intertwined her essence with that of the ship—a connection she had not asked for nor wanted. It felt unnatural yet unbreakable, like an anchor tethered to the vast expanse of time and space.

Across the console, the Doctor fidgeted nervously, his fingers hovering uncertainly over a series of levers and buttons. "Okay... there might be one more tiny side effect to the bond—"

Lilith narrowed her eyes in suspicion, her fingers instinctively curling into sharp claws, a manifestation of the simmering fury within her. At the sight, the Time Lord gulped audibly, his bravado wavering under her piercing gaze.

"—you can't actually... well, poof away from me or the TARDIS right now." He forced a grin, though the tension in the room only seemed to heighten. "Temporarily! Very, very temporarily! Once it settles down, you'll be able to step outside the TARDIS—do things! Just not go far far away... you'll just pop right back like a boomerang..."

The temperature in the console room plummeted, a chilling breeze swirling around them as frost crept over the console, sparkling like crystals under the TARDIS's lights.

"Explain." Her voice was low, icy, and sharp enough to shatter diamonds.

The Doctor swallowed hard, his usual flippancy replaced by genuine concern. "Right, so, when I anchored you to the TARDIS, it sort of created a... um... proximity tether? For stability! Your essence needs the TARDIS's matrix to keep from unraveling, which means—"

"Which means I'm leashed to you like some mortal's pet." Hellfire danced in her pupils, illuminating the depths of her anger.

"Not leashed! More like... gently tethered? Think of it as a really long cosmic bungee cord! Okay, bad analogy!" His hands waved animatedly, as if he could physically articulate his thoughts.

Lilith's form flickered momentarily, a manifestation of her frustrated desire to vanish, to escape this unwanted bond. However, she promptly found herself in the same spot, a shimmering outline surrounded by the TARDIS's golden energy that flared like a warning.

The Doctor winced, recognizing the implications. "Ah. Yeah. That's the other thing. No teleporting, no dimension-hopping, no of those dramatic exits you're probably famous for. Temporarily."

She inhaled deeply, the tension in the room rising as the TARDIS lights dimmed in response, as if sensing her growing displeasure.

"How. Long."

"Depends! Could be days! Weeks! Maybe just hours if we—" he yelped as she lunged at him, barely managing to scramble around the other side of the console. "Okay! New plan! We focus all our energy on fixing you back to your realm so you can storm out with proper flair! Very dignified! No leashes involved!"

He offered a half-hearted smile, trying to lighten the mood, but the gravity of the situation hung heavily between them.

Her fire was temporarily diminished as she watched him at the console, fingers dancing across the myriad buttons and levers with a practiced ease that betrayed the depth of his experience.

"You mourn someone, " she stated, each word heavy with accusation rather than inquiry. The certainty of her voice punctuated the air like a sharp knife slicing through tension.

The Doctor stiffened at her words, his back straightening, the set of his jaw tightening. "I mourn a lot of someones. It's an occupational hazard." His tone was dismissive, but the flicker in his eyes suggested a crack in his armour.

"No." She leaned in, her voice low and dangerous, each syllable dripping with a cold intensity. "This is fresh." The urgency in her gaze bore into him, unsettling the calm he usually maintained.

His hands clenched firmly around the console, knuckles turning white, as the weight of her words pressed down on him.

Lilith smirked, a cruel satisfaction crossing her face, like a predator savoring a successful hunt. "Ah. So I'm not the first lost soul you've dragged into this box, am I?" The accusation hung in the air, bitter and undeniable.

As if to punctuate the moment, the TARDIS lights dimmed, casting eerie shadows and sending a silent warning rippling through the space.

The Doctor turned from her abruptly, as if the very act of facing her was too much to bear. "We should focus on figuring out what's happened to your hell." His voice was strained, an attempt to redirect the conversation, but it lacked conviction.

"You bonded me to your ship because you couldn't save her." Lilith pressed, her tone relentless. "Because you failed. And now you're drowning in it." Each word landed with deliberate force, an emotional blade cutting deeper.

He spun around to face her, eyes aflame with a mixture of anger and something else—vulnerability. "You don't know anything about me!"

"I know the taste of grief," she hissed, leaning closer, her voice low and fierce. "It clings to you like rot. You reek of it."

For a heartbeat, the TARDIS hummed with palpable tension, the very air vibrating with unresolved feelings. Then—

The Doctor laughed, but it was a hollow and broken sound that echoed in the dimly lit room.

"Yeah," he admitted, his shoulders slumping back against the console as he sank into the seat, the weight of her words finally taking its toll. "Yeah, I do."

Lilith observed him closely, noting the way his shoulders curled inward as if he sought to protect himself from the world outside. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the strong façade he usually wore. The great Time Lord, brought low by nothing more or less than the loss of a human girl.

Pathetic in its simplicity.a

Familiar in its sorrow.

"Her name was Rose... she was my... my friend." He spoke slowly, pain lacing his words. "She's trapped in a parallel universe..." The admission hung between them, heavy and stark.

"You loved her," she murmured, her voice softened now, the sharp edges giving way to something almost tender.

The Doctor's gaze dropped to the floor, shame and longing tangled in his expression. "Doesn't matter now. She's gone."

Lilith exhaled sharply through her teeth, frustration mingling with pity. "And so you save strangers instead. How very tragic."

He looked up, locking eyes with her, a flash of defiance in his dark gaze. "Why do you care?"

She offered no response, her silence loud and telling.

Lilith watched him, taking in the sight of him sitting down on the jump-seat, cradling his head in his hands, his posture a picture of defeat. "You could see her again," she ventured, the prospect hanging tantalizingly in the air.

The Doctor's hands stilled at her words.

"If you wanted to," Lilith continued, her body leaning casually against the railing, but the intensity in her eyes revealed her true investment in the conversation. "A Time Lord with a time machine, and you pretend there's no way to say goodbye?"

He didn't look up; the fight seemed to drain from him. "It's not that simple."

"It never is." A smirk crept onto her lips, though this time it was devoid of malice. "Yet here you are, drowning in regret when you could be fighting for one last moment."

He sighed deeply, the sound filled with resignation. "We should concentrate on your problem."

A beat passed, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Then—

"Coward."

The word sliced through the air, and without warning, he whirled around, temper igniting. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"I know a man running from his ghosts when I see one, she hissed, each word sharpened with conviction. "You'd rather drown in silence than face a single moment of grief. How very human of you."

The TARDIS lights flickered again, casting an eerie glow in the cramped space—a warning neither of them heeded, caught as they were in their dance of unyielding emotion.

The Doctor exhaled sharply, his breath escaping in a mix of frustration and realization. "It's not—" he began, before halting mid-sentence as a sudden thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. A spark ignited in his eyes, and he leaped up from the controls, energy radiating from him. "That's it!" he exclaimed, dashing around the TARDIS console with an urgency that was impossible to ignore. His fingers worked feverishly, pressing buttons and pulling levers with precision and purpose. "A supernova! A colossal explosion that, if harnessed correctly, can serve as a transmission device powerful enough to bridge the gap between universes! And just so happens, I've managed to locate the last crack in the fabric of reality that separates this universe from Rose's."

"You'll get that goodbye after all," she hummed, her voice soft as a flicker of a smile touched her lips but it was gone just as quickly.

The Doctor's expression softened, the weight of his thoughts momentarily settling over him. "I will project myself into her universe and bring her here to the TARDIS, allowing us to speak... one last time," he stated quietly, the gravity of his words hanging in the air. "I just need to call out to her."

Meanwhile, she stood on the opposite side of the console, observing him with a mixture of concern and slight empathy not that she would admit that. As he called out for Rose, his voice echoing with longing, she felt the urge to give him space. Instead, she chose to leverage her bond with the TARDIS, allowing the ship to guide her to a place where she could change out of the torn outfit that clung to her in disarray. The TARDIS hummed with a hint of reluctance but acquiesced, leading Lilith to the wardrobe.

As she stepped into the room, she gasped in delight at the vastness of it. Clothing hung on racks and lay draped over surfaces, an array of colors and styles waiting to be chosen. It was a treasure trove, and the possibilities felt endless. Glancing through the fabrics, she took a moment to reflect on her personal style, a preference for robed dark dresses that fit her enigmatic persona. However, the TARDIS hummed in protest, conveying its disapproval of such garments in this particular setting.

With a contemplative sigh, Lilith began to sift through the eclectic collection, her fingers gliding along the textures until she found something that resonated with her. After careful consideration, she selected a knee-length black mesh dress adorned with devore red floral patterns that elegantly flared with each movement. To complete the ensemble, she paired it with a long, sleek black leather trench coat that billowed slightly as she moved and stylish black ankle boots that added a touch of confidence to her stride.

As she admired her reflection in the wardrobe's ornate mirror, a sense of transformation washed over her, preparing her to face the challenges ahead alongside the Doctor.

When Lilith stepped back into the console room, she paused at the threshold, taking in the scene before her. The dim glow of the TARDIS's control panel illuminated the space, highlighting the ethereal presence of a transparent girl with flowing blonde hair. "Rose," she thought to herself.

The Doctor, standing with an unusual mixture of sadness and hope, responded to Rose's unasked question. "Inside the TARDIS," he said gently, his voice steady yet tinged with emotion. He could feel the weight of time bearing down on them, the urgency of their situation pressing heavily upon his hearts. "There's one tiny little gap in the universe left, just about to close," he explained, his gaze lingering on the girl before him. "It takes a tremendous amount of power to send this projection." A soft smile broke through his somber demeanor as he looked at Rose. "I'm burning up a sun just to say goodbye."

Lilith couldn't help but roll her eyes as she watched Rose gaze up at the Doctor with unmistakable admiration—those heart-shaped eyes were tragic in their longing. What a tragic romantic situation, she thought, her lips curled in a slight smirk.

"You look like a ghost," Rose remarked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the moment.

Without missing a beat, the Doctor quickly reached for his trusty sonic screwdriver, its familiar weight reassuring in his hands. He pressed the button with a swift click, and in an instant, the wavering image of Rose began to solidify, as if she were truly standing before them in the flesh.

"Can I?" Rose took a tentative step forward, her heart racing as she extended her hand, longing to connect with the Doctor once more, to feel the warmth of his presence.

The Doctor shook his head gently, his expression both loving and regretful. "I'm still just an image. No touch," he replied, pain flickering across his features as he faced the truth of their impossible circumstances.

"Can't you come through properly?" Rose asked, her voice laced with an earnestness that brimmed with hope. The intensity of her longing ignited a wave of discomfort in Lilith, twisting in her stomach and filling her with a sense of revulsion.

The Doctor, his brow furrowed and expression heavy with melancholy, shook his head gently. "I'm afraid it would fracture everything. Two universes colliding like that would lead to chaos—total collapse."

"Is that all?" Rose replied, her tone light but with an undercurrent of desperation that Lilith couldn't ignore. Despite the jest, it was clear that beneath her playful words lay a sincere yearning for the impossible to happen, an undeniable wish for to break the boundaries that separated them.

"Where are we, anyway?" The Doctor questioned, frowning slightly as he adjusted his spectacles, scanning their surroundings with keen curiosity. "Where did the gap come out?"

"We're in Norway," Rose replied, her voice steady, but there was an undercurrent of excitement mixed with sadness in her tone as she took in the breathtaking scenery around them.

"Norway, right." The Doctor responded, his expression shifting from confusion to intrigue.

"About fifty miles out of Bergen," Rose continued, gesturing with her hand as she tried to convey the magnitude of their location. "This place is called 'Dårlig Ulv Stranden.'"

At the mention of the name, Lilith noticed the Doctor jerk in surprise. It was a sharp movement, as if he had been struck by lightning, and she could see the shadows of worry flicker across his face.

 

"Dalek?" The Doctor questioned, his voice laced with a hint of apprehension. Lilith tilted her head, pondering the gravity of the term that seemed to unsettle him.

"Dårlig," Rose corrected him gently, hiding a smile at his misunderstanding. "It's Norwegian for 'bad.'" She chuckled softly, savoring the irony of what she was poised to reveal next. "So this translates to 'Bad Wolf Bay.'...How long do we have until—?"

"About two minutes," The Doctor replied, his tone suddenly more urgent, and Lilith could feel the tension in the air.

"I can't think of what to say!" Rose exclaimed, her frustration boiling over as she raked her fingers through her hair in exasperation. The weight of the situation was overwhelming.

"You've still got Mister Mickey, then?" The Doctor asked, giving her a soft, reassuring smile.

"Yeah," Rose nodded, her eyes lighting up momentarily. "There's five of us now. Mum, Dad, Mickey, and the baby."

"You're not?" The Doctor asked suddenly, his voice tinged with an unmistakable hint of jealousy. Lilith could practically sense the shift in energy at his question.

Rose let out a laugh, the sound bright and full of warmth. "No. It's Mum. She's three months gone. More Tylers on the way," she grinned, the joy of becoming a big sister shining through her excitement.

"And what about you? Are you—" The Doctor began, his curiosity piqued, eager to know more about her life now.

"Yeah, I'm back working in the shop," Rose chimed in, giving a mundane answer.

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully, "Oh, good for you," he said, as if genuinely pleased for her.

Rose burst into gleeful laughter for a brief moment, her eyes sparkling. "Shut up. No, I'm not," she shook her head, amusement evident in her voice. "There's still a Torchwood on this planet. It's open for business. I think I know a thing or two about aliens."

"Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth," The Doctor stated proudly, a wide grin stretching across his face. But then his expression shifted, revealing a touch of sorrow. "You're dead, officially, back home."

Rose's eyes widened at his words, shock rippling through her. The Doctor continued, more somber now, "So many people died that day, and you've gone missing. You're on a list of the dead. Yet here you are, living a life day after day. The one adventure I can never have."

"Am I ever going to see you again?" Rose asked, her voice tinged with hope as she looked at him, a flicker of longing in her gaze.

The Doctor shook his head, sorrow etched across his features. "You can't," he replied quietly, the weight of the universe hanging between them.

"What're you going to do?" Rose questioned, her concern evident as she searched his face for reassurance.

"Oh, I've got the TARDIS. Same old life, last of the Time Lords," The Doctor told her, a hint of weariness creeping into his voice.

"On your own?" Rose pressed, her heart clenching selfishly at the thought of him finding someone to replace her.

For a brief moment, he glanced at Lilith from the corner of his eye, internal conflict washing over him. He couldn't exactly tell Rose that he had someone here; it wouldn't be fair on the girl. And so, he remained silent, the unspoken truth lingering heavily in the air between them.

"I—" Rose started. "I love you!"

At the girls words Lilith felt an intense, almost unsettling twist inside her—a primal echo that resonated with the depths of her being, ancient and raw like the very earth itself.

It had been eons since she last thought of him.

Adam.

The first man, crafted from the dust of the ground, bestowed with gifts of the world while she, his equal and first wife, had been cast into the shadows merely for desiring the same rights to life, love, and choice. She had once shared both laughter and companionship with him, their spirits intertwined in the blissful innocence of creation. But the legends that guided mortal minds had twisted her story, transforming her into a demon in their eyes. No longer was she a figure of dignity but instead the mother of monsters, the whispering shadow lurking in the nursery where innocence, once cherished, began to decay. 

Her heart had once brimmed with love for him—a fierce, profound connection that transcended the bonds of mere companionship. 

And then, with the weight of inevitability, she had left him. 

Or perhaps he, in his quiet way, had let her slip away, as if she were merely a fleeting thought. 

The stories spun by the mouths of mortals disagreed on the details, each version crafted to fit the listener's tastes. But she had long since ceased to care which narrative they preferred. The stark truth endured: love alone had not been enough to bind them in the unbreakable way they once believed it could.

Then, amid her pondering, another figure emerged in her mind, evoking a memory wrapped in bittersweet essence. Not Lucifer, that tarnished name associated with Sunday sermons and moral decay, but Samael, the Poison of God—an epithet that encapsulated the duality of his being. He was the Lightbringer, the one who had ignited her soul with his passion. His lips, warm and inscribed with the fire of forbidden knowledge, had branded her with more than love; they had forged an unbreakable bond fueled by the very essence of rebellion.

In the flickering shadows cast by the firelight, he had traced his fingers along her cheek, his gaze tender yet fierce, calling her beloved without a whisper of fear.

Her love for him bloomed in stark contrast to the innocence once shared with Adam. This love was marked by the fury of one who had already been cast from paradise, a love underscored by the realisation that they were both outcasts in a world that would never fully understand them.

Samael had been nothing short of radiant, a beautiful rebel with a spirit that defied the heavens. When the decree came, and Heaven banished him into the depths of the pit, she had stood at the edge of that gaping abyss—her heart ached as she watched him fall, his once-angelic grace twisting mid-descent into something darker yet undeniably glorious.

In that darkness, he had given her a kingdom, a realm where she reigned unfettered and free. He had empowered her to pursue her desires, to grasp her ambitions without hesitation, making her not a mere companion but a true equal in every sense of the word.

Her gaze was inexorably drawn to the unfolding drama before her as she overheard the girl passionately declaring her feelings, "I really love you!"

"That's quite right, too," the Doctor responded, his voice trembling under the weight of emotion. "And I suppose, if this is my last chance to say it, Rose Tyler—"

Yet, the Doctor's words hung in the air, unfinished, his plea swallowed by the cruel hand of fate as the image of Rose flickered and vanished before he could fully express his feelings. A palpable heaviness settled on his shoulders as he turned back to the console, nervously fidgeting with a lever as if it could somehow anchor him to the moment he had lost.

Lilith approached him, her presence a contrast to his visible distress. She watched him manipulate the controls with an unsettling intensity before speaking, her voice steady but laced with a hint of sorrow. "You'll drown in this memory if you're not careful," she warned, her eyes reflecting the myriad complexities of emotion.

The Doctor didn't lift his gaze from the console; the weight of his thoughts seemed insurmountable. "Please don't haunt my grief," he replied, the words escaping through clenched teeth.

"Ah, but yours is so... familiar," she mused, tilting her head slightly as though studying an intriguing puzzle. "Tell me, Time Lord, does it comfort you to know you're not the first being to lose everything?"

His breath hitched, a sharp intake that betrayed the depths of his anguish. "That's not comfort. That's just... statistics," he murmured, the stark reality of his loneliness hanging heavily in the air.

Lilith let out a laugh—harsh and raw, like the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath. "Then let me offer you real wisdom: the pain doesn't fade. You simply grow around it, like tree roots through bones," she said, her voice softer as the weight of her words settled between them.

Finally, the Doctor met her gaze, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his stoic exterior. "And does that help?" he asked, searching for solace.

"No," she replied, her hand hovering just above his chest, where two hearts beat in unison yet in conflict. "But it does make the next inevitable loss easier to bear."

In that suspended moment, an ancient understanding passed between them—not quite comprehension but a deep, unspoken recognition. The Doctor, a warrior shaped by war and the relentless march of time, and Lilith, a being forged in exile and flame, found themselves bound by the harsh arithmetic of love subtracted from time.

Lilith shifted her attention away from him, her eyes catching sight of a striking woman with vibrant ginger hair, adorned in an ethereal white dress and veil that seemed to shimmer as she moved. "Is she supposed to be here?" Lilith questioned, her voice laced with curiosity and surprise, pulling the Doctor from his reverie.

"What?" the Doctor replied, startled by the sudden query.

The ginger-headed woman turned to face them, her expression a mix of confusion and alarm. "Oh!" she gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"What?!?" the Doctor repeated, his tone rife with astonishment.

"Who are you?" the ginger-haired woman demanded, an edge of suspicion woven into her voice.

"But—" the Doctor began, but she interrupted, her irritation bubbling over. "Where am I, eh?" she snapped, her brow furrowing into a fierce scowl.

"What?" he could only muster again, the bemusement etched across his features.

"What the hell is this place?" she continued, her voice rising in pitch and intensity.

"Not hell, that's for sure," Lilith drawled, a smirk creeping onto her lips as she found an unexpected amusement in the dramatic exchange unfolding before her.