Fic - Lucy
Okay so I tried to have a go at writng Lucy, I don't think I got her quite right and this isn't really what I had in mind when I started but lets see what you guys think...
Title: Lucy
Author: szm
Rating: PG
Pairing: none, Jack/Lucy if you really squint (BTW if anyone feels the urge to write some Jack/Lucy that would be awesome)
Spoilers: Big ones for 'Last of the Timelords'
Betaed by the wonderful hellenebright who reminded me that Japan is a country. *headdesk*
Summary: 'All earnest and desperate, half terrified and half in awe. Yes it made Lucy smile.'
She liked the rumours. They made her smile. Some said he didn’t sleep at all. Some said he slept in a special chamber that imbued him with magical powers. Her favourite was the solider she overheard telling his friend in hushed whispers that the Master definitely slept in a coffin, like a vampire. He’d seen it.
All earnest and desperate, half terrified and half in awe. Yes it made Lucy smile.
Of course, Lucy had him killed. It doesn’t do to let people spread lies about one’s husband.
The Master, her Master, her husband, Harry, her whole world. ‘What did you do at work today, dear?’ He killed Japan today. Wiped out a whole country to get to Martha Jones. She watched, fire and blood and screaming. Sobbing from Martha’s mother like a soundtrack highlighting the main feature. Lucy laughed and danced with her Harry, because millions of people died and Lucy knows the great secret.
It doesn’t matter. It never mattered.
Her father took her to Tokyo once. She was sixteen, she remembers how the city was so full. People, and things, and lights.
Nothing but charred rubble and corpses now. And Daddy’s been gone for a long time.
He sleeps like any other person. Less than others, but he does sleep. Curled up by her side, his breathing evens out and his face relaxes. He looks like a child.
She could probably kill him then. She thinks about it. About stabbing him and letting the blood flow over the sheets, red on white. She dreams about it sometimes. But she knows she never will, because what would she be without him?
Sometimes when he sleeps, she wanders the halls. It’s harder when he’s asleep. The screams and the fire seep into her thoughts, and they don’t seem so lovely in the lonely small hours. She manages to shake them away, but for some reason the quiet sobbing of Martha’s mother remains. Resonating in her soul. If she even has such a thing. If anyone does.
She doesn’t pay attention to her feet; they take her where they will. No-one talks to her, they shoot her dark looks, some filled with hate, others with pity. She ignores them, they’ll all be dead soon enough. Everything dies. No hope, no future. Nothing matters.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” Captain Jack Harkness. Harry hates him like nothing else. As if the Captain’s very existence pains him in some deep, fundamental way. Lucy likes him.
Today, for the first time, he sounds broken.
He’s the only one apart from Harry who talks to her. Chained up like an animal, killed whenever the Master’s whim demands it. Harry let her kill him once, she shot him and his body slumped in the chains. She watched as he was dragged back from the dark, pain and fear etched in his face, things that he normally covers with flirting and jokes. She shouldn’t have come here. Harry said she’s not allowed to be here on her own.
“Did you see the show Jack?” she asks, knowing full well that Harry made sure Jack did.
“Yes.” His eyes bore into her, not pity, or fear, or hate. She doesn’t know how to respond to it.
“Such a pretty fire,” she laughs, a high tinkling sound. Sometimes she thinks she sounds like a broken mirror, all edges and twisted rainbows. “A whole country on fire. Screaming, in pain, and so pretty.”
“Millions of people dead, Lucy,” he says rattling at his chains. He sounds angry and frustrated, she feels like the little schoolgirl who misunderstood the lesson. “Good people, bad people and everyone in between. Even you should feel something about that!”
She notices that he’s been crying, she frowns and traces the tear tracks with her finger. She brings her hand to her mouth and tastes the salt. Jack watches her and she smiles.
“Hush Captain,” she croons softly. “Everyone dies.”
He drops his head, breaking eye contact. Suddenly she wants it back, it’s disturbing and strange, and makes her want to feel even though she’s not sure she can anymore. She cups his chin and pulls his head back up.
“Except you,” she continues in the same soft tone. “You go on and on until the nothing at the end. Just black and cold forever Captain.”
“We’re not there yet,” he says fiercely.
“You hope,” she drops his head and backs away slightly, eyes wide. “What could you possibly hope for?”
“I hope my friends are alive, I hope they forgive me. I hope tomorrow I don’t get unidentified stewed vegetables for dinner again. I hope the next time I escape I manage to do some real damage, possibly to the chef.”
“You’re a fool,” she hisses out from between clenched teeth, suddenly and inexplicably angry. “There’s nothing, just nothing forever.”
He shrugs as much as the chains will allow. “There’s something now.”
“My, what a cosy little chat.” Harry’s voice comes from the doorway, dripping with malice. She turns to see him propped again the doorframe. She shudders involuntarily. He’ll punish her for this, after all he warned her. Sometimes she wishes he’d just kill her, but honestly she doesn’t want to die.
Harry slips his arms round her waist, holding her just a little bit too tightly. He kisses her breathless and swings her round, leaving her dizzy and off kilter.
“Now Harry,” says Jack with a smirk. “There’s no need to be jealous, just because your wife prefers my company in the middle of the night.” He winks at her. “Till next time, gorgeous.”
Harry’s face goes dark for a moment, then he breaks into a grin. “Ever starved to death Jack? Lets see how long it takes. Shall we?”
Harry leads her out with a hand on her lower back. “There you go,” she calls over her shoulder. “No unidentified vegetables.”
**
She finds out how the members of Torchwood died. But she can never quite bring herself to tell Jack.
**
She shoots Harry. She feels nothing.
The Doctor is on his knees, crying and pleading. She feels a brief flash of something like relief then nothing. Jack rushes over to her and takes the gun away. His hand hovering above her shoulder, offering comfort she doesn’t need. He passes the gun to a solider and his hand gently touches the top of her arm. She turns to look at him.
“It’s okay,” he says, softly enough that only they can hear. “He can’t hurt you now.”
She smiles blankly up at him. He never seemed this tall before. “Silly Captain,” she says. “That’s not the point.”
Title: Lucy
Author: szm
Rating: PG
Pairing: none, Jack/Lucy if you really squint (BTW if anyone feels the urge to write some Jack/Lucy that would be awesome)
Spoilers: Big ones for 'Last of the Timelords'
Betaed by the wonderful hellenebright who reminded me that Japan is a country. *headdesk*
Summary: 'All earnest and desperate, half terrified and half in awe. Yes it made Lucy smile.'
She liked the rumours. They made her smile. Some said he didn’t sleep at all. Some said he slept in a special chamber that imbued him with magical powers. Her favourite was the solider she overheard telling his friend in hushed whispers that the Master definitely slept in a coffin, like a vampire. He’d seen it.
All earnest and desperate, half terrified and half in awe. Yes it made Lucy smile.
Of course, Lucy had him killed. It doesn’t do to let people spread lies about one’s husband.
The Master, her Master, her husband, Harry, her whole world. ‘What did you do at work today, dear?’ He killed Japan today. Wiped out a whole country to get to Martha Jones. She watched, fire and blood and screaming. Sobbing from Martha’s mother like a soundtrack highlighting the main feature. Lucy laughed and danced with her Harry, because millions of people died and Lucy knows the great secret.
It doesn’t matter. It never mattered.
Her father took her to Tokyo once. She was sixteen, she remembers how the city was so full. People, and things, and lights.
Nothing but charred rubble and corpses now. And Daddy’s been gone for a long time.
He sleeps like any other person. Less than others, but he does sleep. Curled up by her side, his breathing evens out and his face relaxes. He looks like a child.
She could probably kill him then. She thinks about it. About stabbing him and letting the blood flow over the sheets, red on white. She dreams about it sometimes. But she knows she never will, because what would she be without him?
Sometimes when he sleeps, she wanders the halls. It’s harder when he’s asleep. The screams and the fire seep into her thoughts, and they don’t seem so lovely in the lonely small hours. She manages to shake them away, but for some reason the quiet sobbing of Martha’s mother remains. Resonating in her soul. If she even has such a thing. If anyone does.
She doesn’t pay attention to her feet; they take her where they will. No-one talks to her, they shoot her dark looks, some filled with hate, others with pity. She ignores them, they’ll all be dead soon enough. Everything dies. No hope, no future. Nothing matters.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” Captain Jack Harkness. Harry hates him like nothing else. As if the Captain’s very existence pains him in some deep, fundamental way. Lucy likes him.
Today, for the first time, he sounds broken.
He’s the only one apart from Harry who talks to her. Chained up like an animal, killed whenever the Master’s whim demands it. Harry let her kill him once, she shot him and his body slumped in the chains. She watched as he was dragged back from the dark, pain and fear etched in his face, things that he normally covers with flirting and jokes. She shouldn’t have come here. Harry said she’s not allowed to be here on her own.
“Did you see the show Jack?” she asks, knowing full well that Harry made sure Jack did.
“Yes.” His eyes bore into her, not pity, or fear, or hate. She doesn’t know how to respond to it.
“Such a pretty fire,” she laughs, a high tinkling sound. Sometimes she thinks she sounds like a broken mirror, all edges and twisted rainbows. “A whole country on fire. Screaming, in pain, and so pretty.”
“Millions of people dead, Lucy,” he says rattling at his chains. He sounds angry and frustrated, she feels like the little schoolgirl who misunderstood the lesson. “Good people, bad people and everyone in between. Even you should feel something about that!”
She notices that he’s been crying, she frowns and traces the tear tracks with her finger. She brings her hand to her mouth and tastes the salt. Jack watches her and she smiles.
“Hush Captain,” she croons softly. “Everyone dies.”
He drops his head, breaking eye contact. Suddenly she wants it back, it’s disturbing and strange, and makes her want to feel even though she’s not sure she can anymore. She cups his chin and pulls his head back up.
“Except you,” she continues in the same soft tone. “You go on and on until the nothing at the end. Just black and cold forever Captain.”
“We’re not there yet,” he says fiercely.
“You hope,” she drops his head and backs away slightly, eyes wide. “What could you possibly hope for?”
“I hope my friends are alive, I hope they forgive me. I hope tomorrow I don’t get unidentified stewed vegetables for dinner again. I hope the next time I escape I manage to do some real damage, possibly to the chef.”
“You’re a fool,” she hisses out from between clenched teeth, suddenly and inexplicably angry. “There’s nothing, just nothing forever.”
He shrugs as much as the chains will allow. “There’s something now.”
“My, what a cosy little chat.” Harry’s voice comes from the doorway, dripping with malice. She turns to see him propped again the doorframe. She shudders involuntarily. He’ll punish her for this, after all he warned her. Sometimes she wishes he’d just kill her, but honestly she doesn’t want to die.
Harry slips his arms round her waist, holding her just a little bit too tightly. He kisses her breathless and swings her round, leaving her dizzy and off kilter.
“Now Harry,” says Jack with a smirk. “There’s no need to be jealous, just because your wife prefers my company in the middle of the night.” He winks at her. “Till next time, gorgeous.”
Harry’s face goes dark for a moment, then he breaks into a grin. “Ever starved to death Jack? Lets see how long it takes. Shall we?”
Harry leads her out with a hand on her lower back. “There you go,” she calls over her shoulder. “No unidentified vegetables.”
**
She finds out how the members of Torchwood died. But she can never quite bring herself to tell Jack.
**
She shoots Harry. She feels nothing.
The Doctor is on his knees, crying and pleading. She feels a brief flash of something like relief then nothing. Jack rushes over to her and takes the gun away. His hand hovering above her shoulder, offering comfort she doesn’t need. He passes the gun to a solider and his hand gently touches the top of her arm. She turns to look at him.
“It’s okay,” he says, softly enough that only they can hear. “He can’t hurt you now.”
She smiles blankly up at him. He never seemed this tall before. “Silly Captain,” she says. “That’s not the point.”