The girl in the ragged dress

She sat squat on the ground holding the ragged doll against her knees as it danced to the tune she hummed. She was no older than three, her natural curls blew in the breeze and scattered the dust from her hair onto the young man who lay still beside her. Her sweet cherub face had the streaks of tears that were dried against her skin and the thin cotton dress that was hand made with love, with patches of ladybugs on the pockets was torn and dirty from the blast.
She looked up at the young man who lay on the ground, his spiky black hair flattened after the explosion that had ripped through her home and reduced it to rubble. It was a day she would never forget but a day she would never want to remember.
He was aware that he was alive but his hearing was distorted. He couldn’t move, he wanted to open his eyes but they refused to obey. He could hear a muffled tune sung by a child quite close to him. He vaguely remembered the child, the raggedy child screaming in the middle of the street as the world went crazy and the skies erupted in battle fire. The buildings erupted around them and he remembered his friends, the tall man with almost the same hair cut as his own, wearing a suit and long brown coat, the black girl in the red leather jacket who had fought alongside him in a battle of ages and a tall American in a flying jacket who was enjoying the hail of gunfire and the rush of adrenaline almost as much as he did. They were calling to him, they were running ahead but calling as the child began to scream, a haunting, cut right through you scream, and he stopped. He turned. He ran back to the child amidst the screams from his own friends. He gathered her up as a bolt of cannon fire exploded the building nearby and blew him off his feet, carrying them both across the road. He had kept her safe, using himself as a shield as the debris blew out striking everything with devastating results.
He felt the ground vibrate as footsteps from more than one person ran towards him. He heard their muffled voices and detected two, possibly three bodies talking. He felt two fingers of one person touch the side of his neck and the side of his face and knew who it was. He wanted to open his eyes and make contact, show the man that he was alive if nothing else, but again they refused to obey.
He heard the voice of the second man and his heart quickened, the fear of realisation and now he really didn’t want to open his eyes.
‘I’ll stay with him, you go Doctor, he’ll be safe with me.’ The elderly soldier with military honours spoke calmly to the Time Lord. His dark black eyes stared at the injured young man on the ground, the bloody gash to his head the only visible signs of injury.
‘Good man.’ The Doctor rose and clapped a hand on the arm of the soldier and glancing back at the boy, ran back to the broken building in search of his missing friends.
He felt a scratch against his neck and something cold press into his skin. He knew the outcome of what was occurring – he would be dead in a few hours.
He heard the old man speak as his hearing returned.
‘You run and you hide, but I always find you. You will never escape me, we are connected through blood. I brought you into this world and I can very easily take you from it, you will not be able to stop me now.’