Lady in red
I posted this fic by mistake in the early hours GMT of the 11th Feb - because I thought it was the 12th Feb. However, whoever was down for the 11th seems to be MIA so I'm going to post this now.
It's called Lady in Red, is quite short and a bit weird,rates PG and contains no warnings, but does feature spoilers for the last Dr Who fan left on the planet who hasn't yet seen Last of the Time Lords.
And it comes with it's own artwork (a sort of two-for-the-price-of-one).
Jack stared at the woman before him: brittle and damaged in her dress of scarlet satin; clinging on to the shreds of her pride and her sanity with her vermilion fingernails. She moved her head, and blonde curls tumbled about her perfect face, highlighting the thousand-yard stare in her dazed eyes. He’d seen that look too often in the eyes of comrades, seen it more than once looking back out of the mirror at him. It didn’t belong on her.
She looked down at him, and he shuffled as much as his chains would allow, suddenly and surprisingly aware of how dirty and dishevelled he must be, in contrast to her pristine loveliness. But then he caught the look in her eyes, and realised that she was not seeing any of it.
“You love him, don’t you,” she murmured. “The other one. The Doctor.”
Jack stared. Of all the things she might have said, that was perhaps the least expected.
“How can you?” she continued. “How dare you. How can you love some...thing...like that...like he is. Like they are.” Her hands gripped the railing in front of her. One scarlet nail shattered under the strain, leaving her with one pale finger to contrast with the nine still tipped with blood.
“He's like fire and ice and rage.” Jack found the ancient litany stumbling from his tongue. He licked his dry lips and went on. “He's like the night, and the storm in the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the centre of time and he can see the turn of the universe.” He hesitated.
“ And... he's wonderful,” finished Lucy, brokenly. “They are wonderful. I have seen." She wrapped her arms around herself, as if to take comfort from her own living presence. "He took me to the end of everything, you know. To the end of the universe. To show me how we never died in the end...” Her voice tailed off, and her stare became glassy. “He told me he loved me. Told me I was his only one.”
Her head went down, and she mumbled almost to herself, “But I think there was only one...only ever one.”
Then she laughed, and it was like crystal breaking. Jack shivered involuntarily at the sound.
“Only ever that one,” she cried in a whisper. “And now the paradox is upon us. You can’t die, and I....” She looked around furtively. “And I have to go on living.”
And then she turned, in a moment of blonde curls and scarlet satin, leaving Jack to his chains, and his endless cycle of life and painful death.
****
Jack stood silent, watching the living Time Lord cradling the dying. Next to him Lucy stood, with a gun in her hand and her red dress on. He found no pity in his soul as he watched the Master die, but oh! how his heart ached as the dead laughed and the living wept.
Perhaps her heart ached too, for she did not move, just stared at the tableau at the far end of the Valiant's bridge. He slipped his arm around her and took the weapon, though he could not say on whom he feared she might use it . She leaned back against him, as if whispering some lover's confidence.
"You see it now," she said. "They are wonderful...terrible. The Lordly Ones. But they are not for the likes of us, who have only one heart." She put her hands up to her face, as if to hide the sight before her. "Only one heart, and that so easily broken."
It's called Lady in Red, is quite short and a bit weird,rates PG and contains no warnings, but does feature spoilers for the last Dr Who fan left on the planet who hasn't yet seen Last of the Time Lords.
And it comes with it's own artwork (a sort of two-for-the-price-of-one).
Jack stared at the woman before him: brittle and damaged in her dress of scarlet satin; clinging on to the shreds of her pride and her sanity with her vermilion fingernails. She moved her head, and blonde curls tumbled about her perfect face, highlighting the thousand-yard stare in her dazed eyes. He’d seen that look too often in the eyes of comrades, seen it more than once looking back out of the mirror at him. It didn’t belong on her.
She looked down at him, and he shuffled as much as his chains would allow, suddenly and surprisingly aware of how dirty and dishevelled he must be, in contrast to her pristine loveliness. But then he caught the look in her eyes, and realised that she was not seeing any of it.
“You love him, don’t you,” she murmured. “The other one. The Doctor.”
Jack stared. Of all the things she might have said, that was perhaps the least expected.
“How can you?” she continued. “How dare you. How can you love some...thing...like that...like he is. Like they are.” Her hands gripped the railing in front of her. One scarlet nail shattered under the strain, leaving her with one pale finger to contrast with the nine still tipped with blood.
“He's like fire and ice and rage.” Jack found the ancient litany stumbling from his tongue. He licked his dry lips and went on. “He's like the night, and the storm in the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the centre of time and he can see the turn of the universe.” He hesitated.
“ And... he's wonderful,” finished Lucy, brokenly. “They are wonderful. I have seen." She wrapped her arms around herself, as if to take comfort from her own living presence. "He took me to the end of everything, you know. To the end of the universe. To show me how we never died in the end...” Her voice tailed off, and her stare became glassy. “He told me he loved me. Told me I was his only one.”
Her head went down, and she mumbled almost to herself, “But I think there was only one...only ever one.”
Then she laughed, and it was like crystal breaking. Jack shivered involuntarily at the sound.
“Only ever that one,” she cried in a whisper. “And now the paradox is upon us. You can’t die, and I....” She looked around furtively. “And I have to go on living.”
And then she turned, in a moment of blonde curls and scarlet satin, leaving Jack to his chains, and his endless cycle of life and painful death.
****
Jack stood silent, watching the living Time Lord cradling the dying. Next to him Lucy stood, with a gun in her hand and her red dress on. He found no pity in his soul as he watched the Master die, but oh! how his heart ached as the dead laughed and the living wept.
Perhaps her heart ached too, for she did not move, just stared at the tableau at the far end of the Valiant's bridge. He slipped his arm around her and took the weapon, though he could not say on whom he feared she might use it . She leaned back against him, as if whispering some lover's confidence.
"You see it now," she said. "They are wonderful...terrible. The Lordly Ones. But they are not for the likes of us, who have only one heart." She put her hands up to her face, as if to hide the sight before her. "Only one heart, and that so easily broken."