In a side room of an abandoned building on the edge of a city Lucy Saxon didn't know the name of, she hunched further into herself, shivering as she wrapped her ratty cloak tight around her body. It was ragged and dirty, probably one of the nastiest things Lucy had ever worn in her life, but after a day or two on Woman Wept- if that was what this
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After getting directions to an abandoned building, he headed that way, shoving the stiff door open when he got there and looking around.
"Lucy? Are you in here?"
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Am I supposed to answer? she thought waspishly, That'd be a touch difficult, with this thing shoved in my mouthBut she swallowed down her ire; why should she be angry? He was here to rescue her, after all. Some of it, she imagined, was shame. How she must look; dirty and unwashed, ragged, her feet wrapped in strips of cloth because anything had been better than the bare feet Harry had dumped her here in. She exhaled shakily. No, she wasn't fool enough to miss her chance at going home merely because she was ashamed of how she looked ( ... )
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"Oh, Lucy, I'm so sorry," he said, almost without thinking. Then he shook himself mentally and walked towards her. "Come on then. Let's get back to the TARDIS and get this thing off you."
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... Not that she had much in the way of pride left, though. Not realistically.
Still though, she drew herself up as straight as she could, nodding silently, and followed the Doctor back to his ship. Her fingers wound themselves into her cloak as she walked; after so many weeks feeling utterly alone, her first basic, overpowering impulse was to touch, to make sure he was actually there and solid and real. But she couldn't allow herself that. If she reached out to touch him, she was half afraid she'd end up clinging and unable to let go. And that, she'd never be able to live down.
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"Right. Let's see what we can do about this horrible thing, then."
Carefully, he examined the back of it, quickly finding what he was looking for - a small lock. A quick blast of the sonic screwdriver soon took care of that, the lock shattering into pieces. Gently, he began to pull it off over her head, trying not to hurt her during the process.
"Watch out. Here we go."
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Tea, however, was something he could certainly take care of. "Of course," he said, trying to manage a smile. "You might want to follow me to the kitchen, though. S'a bit more comfortable than in here."
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More likely, given his track record, that he had put it there himself for some unfathomable reason, but never mind, no one needed to know.
When the tea was ready, he sat down opposite Lucy and slid the hot mug across the table, placing a bowl of sugar between them.
"I wasn't sure if you took sugar, so I'll let you add your own," he commented, taking a sip of his tea. Now that he was sitting, he could actually see how wretched the poor woman looked, and he frowned slightly. "D'you want anything to eat with that?"
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She gave a weak little chuckle at the Doctor's words, and looked down at herself. 'Yes, I am rather-' she broke off, grimacing slightly, not wanting to necessarily give a word to it- 'aren't I?' Another sip of her tea, and her eyes flicked up to meet the Doctor's for a moment before she said quietly, 'That'd be lovely.'
Because food (warm, good food) was food, even if it did come from the Doctor's table.
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Five minutes later, he set down a plate full of reasonably tidy ham sandwiches.
"Sorry, it's not much. I never was all that much of a cook, I'm afraid."
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And it was true. Humble and only mostly tidy though the ham sandwiches might have been, as far as Lucy was concerned at the moment, they might as well have been the finest of pheasant or pate de fois gras her mother used to serve at the horrible dinner parties she'd been so fond of. They were nourishing, that was the important part. Ham sandwiches and tea, and already she was feeling slightly less awful.
Halfway through her first sandwich, she looked curiously up at the Doctor, her eyes sharp. 'Why did you come get me?' She asked bluntly. Lucy was genuinely curious, however; she was grateful, extremely grateful, but had their positions been reversed, she would not have dreamed of doing the same for the Doctor. She didn't understand why he should've done as much for her.
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"Lucy, you know me. I couldn't just leave you out there, not like that."
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She shook her head faintly, taking another sip of her tea. Again, she looked up as a thought occurred to her, but this time, her expression was slightly wicked. 'What did Harry do to you this time? You mentioned something about a genderswap virus...?'
Lucy was interested to hear his answer, if he'd even consent to give one, but that wasn't really the point of the question. More, it was a reason to stop thinking about why the Doctor had come to get her. That was entirely too confusing for the moment.
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"I'd rather not talk about that, if it's all the same to you."
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She took another pensive bite of her ham sandwich before setting it down, sighing absently as she traced whorls in the wood of the tabletop with one nail. The red nail varnish was, remarkably, only somewhat chipped off. Her other arm went compulsively around her stomach, pressing just under her breasts, as though she needed confirmation that she was really there.
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