Fic: Honey Trap
This little bunny has been bugging me ever since I first heard about the end of TLotT, and has actually cured me of my writer's block, for which I am profoundly grateful (what do you mean 'you're not'?)
I'm still trying to work out what happened to my mind to churn out something like this.
Spoilers for TLotT, Utopia and Series Three, in general.
Please tell me if it's any good! :D
Title: Honey Trap
Author: eryaforsthye
Rating: M
Pairing: Saxon/?
Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously.
Summary:
Plans occasionly goes pear-shaped. Happens to the best of us.
Try telling that to our resident megalomaniac.
It's bright. Too bright.
He's lying on a firm, hard surface.
Uncomfortable.
He stirs, almost unbalancing the narrow pallet on which he's been placed.
"Oh, I wouldn't, honey."
He starts. A woman's voice, low and husky.
"Lucy?"
A small tinkling laugh.
He feels a flash of irritation.
Why, oh, why did he have to pick the unstable ones?
Still, he's alive, that was the point of this little charade.
That and the look of desperation in the Doctor's eyes as he passed away.
He almost smiles at the memory.
Unsteadily, he rises.
And blinks at what he sees.
He is in a cage.
Large, black metal bars surround him, a round, overly-bright halogen light swings, desolately, directly above him, illuminating his prison but leaving the rest of the room in semi-darkness.
Hazy though his clouded mind is, he's slowly becoming aware that something here is Not-Quite-Right.
Shakily, he stumbles to the bars.
His senses feel disorientated, off-kilter.
Still, nobody ever said dying was easy, especially with your consciousness shoved into a confined space at the last conceivable moment.
He squints into the darkness.
A diminutive blonde woman perches on an dark mahogany desk idly tossing some small object from hand to hand.
His ring. The repository of his soul, of his bio-data.
His eyes follow the progress of the precious item, involuntarily swallowing as it soars through the air.
"Stop that and come here."
Another little laugh.
He pushes away his unease. Sharpens his voice.
"Lucy. Stop playing games and come here. Obey me."
She giggles. Actually giggles.
He snarls, "Lucy!"
She hops off the table and approaches the cage, the glare of the light glinting in her blue eyes.
Her hips sway to an invisible beat, and, for the first time, he recognises the true source of his unease.
The silence. The complete and utter absence of the drums.
She stops just short of the bars, just out of his reach, and smiles.
That slow, seductive smile of almost orgasmic pleasure that he hasn't seen in over a year.
"Oh, Harry, Harry, Harry. You have been naughty, haven't you?"
He stares, uncomprehending.
"What?"
She smiles in amusement, scarlet lips stretching lazily, her voice dropping a register.
"Such a clever, naughty boy", she breathes.
"To use a bio-damper, to suppress your mind, your body, to hide so very well. Oh, what a masterpiece, such brilliant biotechnological engineering."
She giggles.
He swallows.
"Who are you?"
She laughs, turns her back, turns away.
"Uh, uh, uh. That's no fun. Why don't you guess?"
He glares.
"Stop it. Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"
A laugh.
"Why, Harry, anyone would think you actually cared for her. Anyone who was blind, deaf and more mentally deficient than your average Ogron, that is, of course."
He grits his teeth, "Whoever you are, I'm in no mood for games."
She pauses, "Funny. That's not what you said on Malcassairo."
He stares blankly.
She sighs, "Oh my, you're positively tiresome today. I'll give you a clue, shall I? What do I feel like?"
He blinks, "What do you-"
She cuts him off, voice sharp, filled with irritation.
"Oh come on, are you, or are you not a Time Lord?"
He frowns, then his eyes widen as he searches and catches something out of the corner of his mind.
He gazes at his wife's face, his own slack with shock.
She waits with a strange little smile, still playing with his ring.
After a brief eternity he swallows, Adam's apple rising and falling in time with the golden ring.
His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks that one name which has dictated his every action.
"Doctor?"
I'm still trying to work out what happened to my mind to churn out something like this.
Spoilers for TLotT, Utopia and Series Three, in general.
Please tell me if it's any good! :D
Title: Honey Trap
Author: eryaforsthye
Rating: M
Pairing: Saxon/?
Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously.
Summary:
Plans occasionly goes pear-shaped. Happens to the best of us.
Try telling that to our resident megalomaniac.
It's bright. Too bright.
He's lying on a firm, hard surface.
Uncomfortable.
He stirs, almost unbalancing the narrow pallet on which he's been placed.
"Oh, I wouldn't, honey."
He starts. A woman's voice, low and husky.
"Lucy?"
A small tinkling laugh.
He feels a flash of irritation.
Why, oh, why did he have to pick the unstable ones?
Still, he's alive, that was the point of this little charade.
That and the look of desperation in the Doctor's eyes as he passed away.
He almost smiles at the memory.
Unsteadily, he rises.
And blinks at what he sees.
He is in a cage.
Large, black metal bars surround him, a round, overly-bright halogen light swings, desolately, directly above him, illuminating his prison but leaving the rest of the room in semi-darkness.
Hazy though his clouded mind is, he's slowly becoming aware that something here is Not-Quite-Right.
Shakily, he stumbles to the bars.
His senses feel disorientated, off-kilter.
Still, nobody ever said dying was easy, especially with your consciousness shoved into a confined space at the last conceivable moment.
He squints into the darkness.
A diminutive blonde woman perches on an dark mahogany desk idly tossing some small object from hand to hand.
His ring. The repository of his soul, of his bio-data.
His eyes follow the progress of the precious item, involuntarily swallowing as it soars through the air.
"Stop that and come here."
Another little laugh.
He pushes away his unease. Sharpens his voice.
"Lucy. Stop playing games and come here. Obey me."
She giggles. Actually giggles.
He snarls, "Lucy!"
She hops off the table and approaches the cage, the glare of the light glinting in her blue eyes.
Her hips sway to an invisible beat, and, for the first time, he recognises the true source of his unease.
The silence. The complete and utter absence of the drums.
She stops just short of the bars, just out of his reach, and smiles.
That slow, seductive smile of almost orgasmic pleasure that he hasn't seen in over a year.
"Oh, Harry, Harry, Harry. You have been naughty, haven't you?"
He stares, uncomprehending.
"What?"
She smiles in amusement, scarlet lips stretching lazily, her voice dropping a register.
"Such a clever, naughty boy", she breathes.
"To use a bio-damper, to suppress your mind, your body, to hide so very well. Oh, what a masterpiece, such brilliant biotechnological engineering."
She giggles.
He swallows.
"Who are you?"
She laughs, turns her back, turns away.
"Uh, uh, uh. That's no fun. Why don't you guess?"
He glares.
"Stop it. Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"
A laugh.
"Why, Harry, anyone would think you actually cared for her. Anyone who was blind, deaf and more mentally deficient than your average Ogron, that is, of course."
He grits his teeth, "Whoever you are, I'm in no mood for games."
She pauses, "Funny. That's not what you said on Malcassairo."
He stares blankly.
She sighs, "Oh my, you're positively tiresome today. I'll give you a clue, shall I? What do I feel like?"
He blinks, "What do you-"
She cuts him off, voice sharp, filled with irritation.
"Oh come on, are you, or are you not a Time Lord?"
He frowns, then his eyes widen as he searches and catches something out of the corner of his mind.
He gazes at his wife's face, his own slack with shock.
She waits with a strange little smile, still playing with his ring.
After a brief eternity he swallows, Adam's apple rising and falling in time with the golden ring.
His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks that one name which has dictated his every action.
"Doctor?"