(no subject)
She has a moment of weakness, after she closes her journal and sets her pen down and goes outside the Danger Room to wait. She really does care for this Doctor--cares for him a great deal, in fact. Sometimes, she thinks she may even love him a little, in the same vein as the way she loved her father. (Because she could never love another person the way she loves Harry.) So why is she doing this? Why is she luring him here to hurt him?
Perhaps it's the very fact that she cares so much, she thinks, and her resolve hardens. She cares, she trusts, and he's gone and betrayed that. She wants him to hurt for it.
But she still thinks "I'm sorry" before she brings her gun down on the back of his head.
Harry has him chained up and helpless at their hands. He wants to see her draw blood, she knows--he likes to see it run, she's always been fascinated by it, and he has the added pleasure of watching her turn the tables on someone who cares for her--but she wants the Doctor to see. Both of them, him and the skinny idiot, ever since Harry arrived (and even before then, really) they won't stop with the claims that Harry's only using her, that he'll end up both abusing and ignoring her, and it's seeping into her head and making her feel like her mind might split. What the skinny idiot showed her was a lie. She knows it is, because Harry said so. He would never hurt her; he loves her. He chose her from amongst all the silly little humans on Earth to be his, because they understand each other. She's special. She's not just his plaything.
She wants the Doctor to see the proof of that, because simply telling him hasn't worked.
It's simple enough. They put him into an old toy of Harry's, one that keeps the eyes forced open. Harry's already been leading her into that ancient lovers' dance as it is, and Lucy can think of no better way to show the Doctor that her husband truly loves her: to show him Harry making love to her, both as gentle and as passionate as can be. (And the Doctor doesn't want her anyway.)
When that doesn't seem to get the point across, that's when she starts drawing blood.
Harry doesn't want her to kill the Doctor, because that would make already complicated matters rather messy, and she's fine with that, because she doesn't want to kill the Doctor either. She only wants to make him hurt. He's hurt her by continuing to speak the lies his skinny self started when she had thought he would never lie to her. Never mind all the other hurts, like the abandonment for the other Master that had left her to die alone at the hands of a superpowered brat, and if she's really being honest with herself, his physical rejection of her. It's all built up in her heart and her head and she wants him to hurt.
When it's over, she feels much the same way as she did the night she killed her brothers.
They'd come to kill Harry, because something had roused them from their routine of drinking and womanizing and partying to look deeper into their new brother-in-law's past, and they'd discovered the truth. They had wanted to save their precious little sister and their country all in one shot, and they didn't mind going to prison for murder, they said, because explaining their motive would bag them an insanity plea. She'd been terrified, watching Andrew point the gun at Harry, and she'd begged him to please, give me the gun, you're making a horrible mistake. They had refused to stand down, but somehow, she had managed to snatch the gun away from him. She'd wrapped shaking fingers around it, and whispered "I'm sorry", and then shot him in the chest at point-blank range. Edward followed a moment later.
Harry had had to pry the gun out of her hands, and she'd promptly doubled over and vomited out of sheer horror at what she'd done. Then he'd gathered her to his chest and they sank down to the floor together, she sobbing and he murmuring comforting nothings in her ear, and the blood on her clothes had soaked into his.
She knew she'd done the right thing, the only thing. It would have been too dangerous to let her brothers leave with their knowledge, and her brothers weren't going to leave without killing Harry. Her choice had been easy. Making it had been harder. Living with it had been harder still. (She'd gone on bed rest for a week, and Harry had canceled his campaign activities for the duration to stay with her.)
Lucy wonders if this choice--a right one, but a heartbreaking one--will haunt her the same way.
Well. At least she has Harry to help see her through, just like last time.
[sort of stream-of-consciousness writing fffffff. X( apologies to those who get this twice.]
Perhaps it's the very fact that she cares so much, she thinks, and her resolve hardens. She cares, she trusts, and he's gone and betrayed that. She wants him to hurt for it.
But she still thinks "I'm sorry" before she brings her gun down on the back of his head.
Harry has him chained up and helpless at their hands. He wants to see her draw blood, she knows--he likes to see it run, she's always been fascinated by it, and he has the added pleasure of watching her turn the tables on someone who cares for her--but she wants the Doctor to see. Both of them, him and the skinny idiot, ever since Harry arrived (and even before then, really) they won't stop with the claims that Harry's only using her, that he'll end up both abusing and ignoring her, and it's seeping into her head and making her feel like her mind might split. What the skinny idiot showed her was a lie. She knows it is, because Harry said so. He would never hurt her; he loves her. He chose her from amongst all the silly little humans on Earth to be his, because they understand each other. She's special. She's not just his plaything.
She wants the Doctor to see the proof of that, because simply telling him hasn't worked.
It's simple enough. They put him into an old toy of Harry's, one that keeps the eyes forced open. Harry's already been leading her into that ancient lovers' dance as it is, and Lucy can think of no better way to show the Doctor that her husband truly loves her: to show him Harry making love to her, both as gentle and as passionate as can be. (And the Doctor doesn't want her anyway.)
When that doesn't seem to get the point across, that's when she starts drawing blood.
Harry doesn't want her to kill the Doctor, because that would make already complicated matters rather messy, and she's fine with that, because she doesn't want to kill the Doctor either. She only wants to make him hurt. He's hurt her by continuing to speak the lies his skinny self started when she had thought he would never lie to her. Never mind all the other hurts, like the abandonment for the other Master that had left her to die alone at the hands of a superpowered brat, and if she's really being honest with herself, his physical rejection of her. It's all built up in her heart and her head and she wants him to hurt.
When it's over, she feels much the same way as she did the night she killed her brothers.
They'd come to kill Harry, because something had roused them from their routine of drinking and womanizing and partying to look deeper into their new brother-in-law's past, and they'd discovered the truth. They had wanted to save their precious little sister and their country all in one shot, and they didn't mind going to prison for murder, they said, because explaining their motive would bag them an insanity plea. She'd been terrified, watching Andrew point the gun at Harry, and she'd begged him to please, give me the gun, you're making a horrible mistake. They had refused to stand down, but somehow, she had managed to snatch the gun away from him. She'd wrapped shaking fingers around it, and whispered "I'm sorry", and then shot him in the chest at point-blank range. Edward followed a moment later.
Harry had had to pry the gun out of her hands, and she'd promptly doubled over and vomited out of sheer horror at what she'd done. Then he'd gathered her to his chest and they sank down to the floor together, she sobbing and he murmuring comforting nothings in her ear, and the blood on her clothes had soaked into his.
She knew she'd done the right thing, the only thing. It would have been too dangerous to let her brothers leave with their knowledge, and her brothers weren't going to leave without killing Harry. Her choice had been easy. Making it had been harder. Living with it had been harder still. (She'd gone on bed rest for a week, and Harry had canceled his campaign activities for the duration to stay with her.)
Lucy wonders if this choice--a right one, but a heartbreaking one--will haunt her the same way.
Well. At least she has Harry to help see her through, just like last time.
[sort of stream-of-consciousness writing fffffff. X( apologies to those who get this twice.]