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lizbeeSummary: Lucy and the Master share a common obsession.
Rated: PG-13
Notes:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
calapine, cesario and violetisblue were all FAR TOO ENCOURAGING.
"I'm not supposed to have visitors," Lucy said.
"I gathered as much," the stranger answered, "and since I imagine UNIT soldiers still have orders to shoot me on sight, we'd best leave quickly."
Had she been properly sane, Lucy wouldn't have allowed him to take her hand -- he wore gloves, she noticed, black leather ones, the same designers that Harry had used -- and lead her away.
But then, she hadn't gotten into this situation by being properly sane. Most hated woman in Britain (and the US, and most of the rest of the world) and all that. The guards were as much for her protection, as punishment.
She started to say, "I don't know your name," but then he opened the door to a room that hadn't been there before, and she stepped inside, and everything became clear.
"The laws of time," the Master said, "have never held much sway with me."
"I shot you," she said, as he took the controls of the TARDIS. His TARDIS.
"Did you? Well, I didn't imagine the Doctor would -- well." His gaze had turned appraising. And, Lucy thought, approving. "I suspect my future self will deserve it," he said, holding his hands out to her. "Nevertheless -- if you try to kill me again, I may be forced to take -- action."
"I don't think you'll need it," said Lucy.
The Master smiled. "I shall hope not. Like the Doctor, you're far more interesting alive than dead."
*
"Are you going to take me to the end of the universe?"
"I think we can do better than that." He gave her a piercing look. "Where would you like to go?"
Lucy trailed her hand over the console.
"I want to see the Doctor die," she said.
*
A different Doctor: a tall, lanky fellow with a shock of curls and a weary demeanour. He took a long time to die, long enough that the Master had to hold Lucy back, to keep her from rushing forward and slitting his throat.
"Jealousy," he whispered in her ear, "is a decidedly inferior motive for murder."
He gripped her arm tight, too tight, and she leaned against him and shuddered, suddenly weary.
When his attention was focused on the death scene before them, Lucy reached up and slashed his face with her nails, and braced herself for a slap that never came.
"I suppose obedience wasn't part of your marriage contract," he said. "I shall grow careless, in my dotage."
"As if it would make any difference."
He laughed, and led her back into his TARDIS.
*
Later (as they engineered the downfall of a functional democracy and planted the seeds of anarchy), Lucy's mind turned to the people who sat with the Doctor as he died.
"He doesn't like to be alone," she said.
"One of his many weaknesses." He could see what she was thinking, and she recognised the gleam in his eye. Lucy drummed her fingernails against the console. She'd picked up his madness, it seemed. To have and to hold.
The Master was smiling. "Which one?" he said.
*
Jones. Martha Jones. Five years younger, shorter hair, a fresh tattoo dark against her skin. Running between classes, oblivious to the future.
"I want her to die," Lucy said.
"Dangerous," said the Master. "We risk attracting the attention of the Time Lords."
"I thought they were all gone."
"In this case, I prefer not to gamble with the uncertainty principle."
"Coward," Lucy spat.
"This," he said, speaking low and even, "is not the right time."
*
"Why haven't you killed the Doctor?"
Washington. 2009. They were attending the Inauguration Ball. The wrong president was elected. A bit of fun. Harry always did enjoy manipulating elections. Lucy danced with the Master, surrounded by press and politicians and the secret service, and no one recognised her. He took care of that. She wore a piece of his TARDIS around her neck, and felt invisible.
"I prefer him alive." The Master's gaze was distant. "The universe is vastly preferable when he's in it."
Lucy looked away, out at the world they were making and destroying and making again.
"It's simply," she struggled to find words, "killing Martha wasn't enough. Killing Harry wasn't enough." She looked the Master in the eye. "This can only go one of two ways," she said.
"Typically human binary thinking," he sneered, "and hardly rational."
"No," she said, and stopped. She took a careful step back. The Master was reaching for his pocket. There was a secret service officer behind her, three paces back. Lucy kept moving. No one else noticed them.
"This is madness," said the Master. There was, she noticed, no fear in his eyes. He hadn't yet learned to be afraid of death.
Well, she could teach him. In one movement she had the officer's gun. Another moment, and she was pulling the trigger.
He looked truly shocked as his chest exploded. For a moment, the room was silent, except for the beating of drums in her head.
"I'm sorry," Lucy whispered. Then she turned and ran.
Outside, in the crisp Washington night, the TARDIS was waiting. The Doctor leaned against it, his face unreadable.
"Funny thing about time travel," he said. "Once you've decided to break the rules, all bets are off." The door opened inwards, and Martha emerged. "He won't remember you." The Doctor nodded at the building. The chaos within was audible. "He'll die ... oh, a few more times. And he'll go mad. You haven't actually changed anything."
He looked terribly tired, Lucy thought, remembering the other Doctor. She was still holding the gun.
"Couldn't change the past," she said, slowly. "The future, maybe."
The spray of blood was most satisfying, staining the TARDIS and Lucy's face and Martha's hands. She turned away as he collapsed, unwilling to stay and see the regeneration. She walked into the darkness, snapping the thin chain around her neck and letting the Master's perception filter fall to the ground and crack under her shoe.
She walked, and walked, and waited for someone to recognise her. Human or Time Lord. She waited.
end
Rated: PG-13
Notes:
calapine, cesario and violetisblue were all FAR TOO ENCOURAGING."I'm not supposed to have visitors," Lucy said.
"I gathered as much," the stranger answered, "and since I imagine UNIT soldiers still have orders to shoot me on sight, we'd best leave quickly."
Had she been properly sane, Lucy wouldn't have allowed him to take her hand -- he wore gloves, she noticed, black leather ones, the same designers that Harry had used -- and lead her away.
But then, she hadn't gotten into this situation by being properly sane. Most hated woman in Britain (and the US, and most of the rest of the world) and all that. The guards were as much for her protection, as punishment.
She started to say, "I don't know your name," but then he opened the door to a room that hadn't been there before, and she stepped inside, and everything became clear.
"The laws of time," the Master said, "have never held much sway with me."
"I shot you," she said, as he took the controls of the TARDIS. His TARDIS.
"Did you? Well, I didn't imagine the Doctor would -- well." His gaze had turned appraising. And, Lucy thought, approving. "I suspect my future self will deserve it," he said, holding his hands out to her. "Nevertheless -- if you try to kill me again, I may be forced to take -- action."
"I don't think you'll need it," said Lucy.
The Master smiled. "I shall hope not. Like the Doctor, you're far more interesting alive than dead."
*
"Are you going to take me to the end of the universe?"
"I think we can do better than that." He gave her a piercing look. "Where would you like to go?"
Lucy trailed her hand over the console.
"I want to see the Doctor die," she said.
*
A different Doctor: a tall, lanky fellow with a shock of curls and a weary demeanour. He took a long time to die, long enough that the Master had to hold Lucy back, to keep her from rushing forward and slitting his throat.
"Jealousy," he whispered in her ear, "is a decidedly inferior motive for murder."
He gripped her arm tight, too tight, and she leaned against him and shuddered, suddenly weary.
When his attention was focused on the death scene before them, Lucy reached up and slashed his face with her nails, and braced herself for a slap that never came.
"I suppose obedience wasn't part of your marriage contract," he said. "I shall grow careless, in my dotage."
"As if it would make any difference."
He laughed, and led her back into his TARDIS.
*
Later (as they engineered the downfall of a functional democracy and planted the seeds of anarchy), Lucy's mind turned to the people who sat with the Doctor as he died.
"He doesn't like to be alone," she said.
"One of his many weaknesses." He could see what she was thinking, and she recognised the gleam in his eye. Lucy drummed her fingernails against the console. She'd picked up his madness, it seemed. To have and to hold.
The Master was smiling. "Which one?" he said.
*
Jones. Martha Jones. Five years younger, shorter hair, a fresh tattoo dark against her skin. Running between classes, oblivious to the future.
"I want her to die," Lucy said.
"Dangerous," said the Master. "We risk attracting the attention of the Time Lords."
"I thought they were all gone."
"In this case, I prefer not to gamble with the uncertainty principle."
"Coward," Lucy spat.
"This," he said, speaking low and even, "is not the right time."
*
"Why haven't you killed the Doctor?"
Washington. 2009. They were attending the Inauguration Ball. The wrong president was elected. A bit of fun. Harry always did enjoy manipulating elections. Lucy danced with the Master, surrounded by press and politicians and the secret service, and no one recognised her. He took care of that. She wore a piece of his TARDIS around her neck, and felt invisible.
"I prefer him alive." The Master's gaze was distant. "The universe is vastly preferable when he's in it."
Lucy looked away, out at the world they were making and destroying and making again.
"It's simply," she struggled to find words, "killing Martha wasn't enough. Killing Harry wasn't enough." She looked the Master in the eye. "This can only go one of two ways," she said.
"Typically human binary thinking," he sneered, "and hardly rational."
"No," she said, and stopped. She took a careful step back. The Master was reaching for his pocket. There was a secret service officer behind her, three paces back. Lucy kept moving. No one else noticed them.
"This is madness," said the Master. There was, she noticed, no fear in his eyes. He hadn't yet learned to be afraid of death.
Well, she could teach him. In one movement she had the officer's gun. Another moment, and she was pulling the trigger.
He looked truly shocked as his chest exploded. For a moment, the room was silent, except for the beating of drums in her head.
"I'm sorry," Lucy whispered. Then she turned and ran.
Outside, in the crisp Washington night, the TARDIS was waiting. The Doctor leaned against it, his face unreadable.
"Funny thing about time travel," he said. "Once you've decided to break the rules, all bets are off." The door opened inwards, and Martha emerged. "He won't remember you." The Doctor nodded at the building. The chaos within was audible. "He'll die ... oh, a few more times. And he'll go mad. You haven't actually changed anything."
He looked terribly tired, Lucy thought, remembering the other Doctor. She was still holding the gun.
"Couldn't change the past," she said, slowly. "The future, maybe."
The spray of blood was most satisfying, staining the TARDIS and Lucy's face and Martha's hands. She turned away as he collapsed, unwilling to stay and see the regeneration. She walked into the darkness, snapping the thin chain around her neck and letting the Master's perception filter fall to the ground and crack under her shoe.
She walked, and walked, and waited for someone to recognise her. Human or Time Lord. She waited.
end
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Date: 2008-03-11 12:30 pm (UTC)Creepy and fabulous and absolutely mad. Need moar Delgado!
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