Oh how the mighty fall (Part 1)

[shatteredqueen.livejournal.com]

Characters: The (never Proper) Tenth Doctor rude_not_ginger, and the (ever-faithful) Master's wife shatteredqueen
Location: The above mentioned Doctor's TARDIS
Time: Following the log fa-chan set up and I'm too lazy at the moment to link to!
Summary: Now that the Doctor has Lucy, the Master's nefarious scheme to rip out his best enemy's hearts begins!
Warnings: Just Lucy being a conniving, deceitful, manipulative bitch :D


The Doctor darted around the console, flipping switches and turning dials. It was unlikely the Master could catch him this quickly, but his old enemy was resourceful and, well, the Doctor did cheat. But there were games he was willing to play with the Master and there were games he wasn't. Lucy's life was in the latter category.

He glanced over the console at her, still slumped in the captain's chair where he placed her when they got in. Had the antidote been a fake, maybe? Another trick of the Master's? He'd take her to New New York, that would be best. Good hospitals in New New York. No way for the Master's poison to kill her if she was in a hospital.

Then, pick up his Companions. Hopefully they weren't all too terribly furious at him...

Since bringing her back to the TARDIS, Lucy's eyes hadn't left the Doctor. She watched him dart around furiously, her gaze roaming briefly so she could follow his hands, his feet -- sometimes she'd just look him up and down. Scrutinizing. Analyzing.

He'd saved her, but at what cost?

It felt like forever before she finally stirred, uncomfortable in the chair he'd placed her in. She'd sat in it not that long ago, if she let herself remember. She'd been with him not too long ago. Him and his other self. Lucy's head listed to the side as she looked for
the other Doctor, her eyes finally leaving the man who'd saved her.

"You're alone...?" she whispered, surprised at how raspy her voice sounded, as though she'd just woken from a particularly deep sleep.

The sound of her voice startled him, and he raced across the console room to her. She didn't look too poorly, but that might've just been the antidote working through her system.

"Don't move too much, we'll get you to hospital in just a mo', getting the transistors back online." He put his hand to her forehead, then pulled out his stethoscope to listen to her heart.

As for her question, he sniffed a little and shook his head. "I didn't know how bad it would get. He's off on holiday. Possibly going to hate me when I get back but, well, that's not uncommon for the two
of us. Jenny's out doing some traveling---you'll like her, Jenny. Wonderful girl. I imagine you can teach her about unreasonable footwear, I certainly can't."

She shook her head, agitated by his attention, and tried feebly to push him away. She'd spent so long unmoving it made her joints crack and ache. "No," she murmured harshly, ignoring his instructions and doing her best to squirm away from him. "I don't ... I don't need to go to hospital. I just--"

Lucy slumped back against the chair, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. Infuriating man. "I'm fine," she whispered. "Splendid. Please."

Nodding slowly at his explanation, Lucy focused on his rambling, intent on controlling her breathing. She felt so horrifically tired. "Jenny," she repeated. "Who is she?"

The console whirred irritably and the Doctor pulled away from Lucy to sort it out. Moving through the vortex fairly smoothly, much more smoothly than the Doctor might've suspected considering the damage she'd taken in the past.

Good luck. That's what it was.

"Come on, I'll get you to your room." He flipped a final switch and headed back to Lucy. He didn't want to overexert her, so he nodded and bent next to her to pull her into a fireman's carry.

"She's...well, she's my daughter, actually. Complicated story involving a progenation machine, but there's plenty of time for that."

For a moment, Lucy thought they were in trouble, hearing that infernal machine begin whirring. Something always happened when she was with him, after all. It almost made her laugh, if she'd had the energy. Something indeed. The fact she was here now, instead of with her husband, was proof of that.

She let the Doctor pick her up without protest, choosing her battles. Her eyebrow shot up at mention of 'daughter,' and she made an indelicate noise in the back of her throat. "Of course it would be a machine," she offered, her words still heavy and awkward from lack of use. "You are rather fond of them, aren't you?"

"Well, you've got your wit back, at least," the Doctor replied with a little smirk. "Was beginning to worry."

He headed down the hallway towards her room, feeling the walls shift and move to bring it closer to the console room. She was so light in his arms. Too thin, probably made the poison the Master gave her worse. Well, at least that was behind them.

"But, she's a rather brilliant girl. Been managing out in the universe all on her own for a while, figure she can travel for a bit, take off when she pleases." He pushed open the door to her room with his leg and stepped inside.

"I'm sure."

Lucy let her head fall against his shoulder as they walked, watching the hallway shift the closer he got to her room. Her room. It really was hers now, wasn't it? If he had his way, at least. It could have always been hers, had she not run off. The memory made her shudder and she took a deep breath to calm herself. Steady now, Lucy, she thought. It's not worth it.

"You aren't worried at all?" she asked, pleased to see the interior of the room, regardless of her previous thoughts. It hadn't changed at all. She wondered if he'd even come to find her that day, or did he just close the room off and never come in again? "I thought you hated when people left."

"Oh, worried every day," the Doctor admitted. "But she's my daughter, not my prisoner. Besides, she's like me. Couldn't hold her in even if I wanted to. And...she'll come back." Of course she would. One day she wouldn't, he knew. One day she'd find her own niche, like Susan did. Like they all did.

He laid Lucy down on her bed and knelt next to her. He brushed his fingertips against her forehead. No bruises, it looked like. It didn't mean they weren't there.

"He didn't hurt you did he? Besides the poison?"

Lucy nodded, wondering how much of his lies he believed himself. History, after all, had a way of repeating itself, and if all his other companions eventually left, she didn't see how his daughter was any different. Maybe she was wrong, though. Maybe this Jenny would come back, just like Lucy had.

The Doctor's fingers were cold and she closed her eyes, turning her face away from him.

"It wasn't supposed to happen," she managed eventually, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. "He didn't have to -- Harry didn't--" Her voice caught and she curled into herself, arms tucked around her stomach. "I thought he'd understand..."

She didn't answer, which was probably answer enough.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm so sorry." It was his fault, after all. Before he decided he needed to save her, she was complacent. Not happy, but the Doctor wasn't sure he could make her happy, either.

"Well, we've won. Means you've got nothing to run away from, now. The Master won't come after you, it's against his own rules." Which did not take into account the Doctor cheating. But, well, that was semantics. The Doctor would work them out with the Master later.

She couldn't suppress the laugh this time. Not that it was all that humourous. "Do you really believe that?" she asked, chancing to look at him, expression drawn. Her whole body felt hollow and she couldn't believe she looked at all appealing the way she was feeling. "You think he'll let you go because you broke the rules and whisked me away?"

It should have been a faerie tale, she knew. She'd even dressed the part, complete with silk skirts and silver tiara. He was her knight in shining armour. But it never worked that way. The evil king didn't just give up.

His naivete was almost disgusting.

Swallowing back her anger, Lucy simply shook her head, turning onto her side so she could face the Doctor properly. "I'm sorry," she offered feebly. "I've been horrible. If you hadn't come, I..."

"I wasn't going to let him kill you. And I won't let him hurt you if he does come after you. But, really, you're in a time ship. Whole wide universe to wander. He can't find you. Or me. And I meant what I told him, I'm not playing his games anymore." He couldn't put her in danger again. It was all he seemed to do, now. Put the ones he loved in danger.

He gave her a small, thin smile, and put his hand to her shoulder. "It'll be all right. I'll take you to Terre D'Ange. Always promised it but never quite delivered, did I? Rubbish pilot at times, but don't tell anyone."

"He should have listened." Lucy finally allowed herself to shudder, whatever barriers she'dtossed up crumbling now that she wasn't staring death in the face. Now that that horrible place was behind them. "Harry, he -- why didn't he listen to me? It should have been enough. He didn't have to play games."

Funny, that. Lucy loved games. But they never should have involved her. Not like this. She played games with other people's lives. She didn't fancy being a pawn.

The Doctor's words were enough to make her smile, at least. It was faint and weak, but it was a smile nonetheless. "I'd be rubbish at dancing right now," she replied, untucking an arm to reach out and trace his jaw. "I need a few days, at least. I need to get used to this, but..." She lowered her eyes, as coy and demure as she'd ever been for the Master. "I missed this. You."

"It's what we've always done," the Doctor replied, sadly. "One game to the next. It never ends. No, it never ended. It's over now. He's got that other me to play with, and they can have each other for all I care."

He liked Lucy's smile, though, and the way her hand was warm against his jaw. He didn't stop her leaving before, but he should've. This was what he wanted, to have her traveling with him. She wasn't young and naieve enough to pretend that they could have forever, and he wouldn't want her to.

"I missed you, too," he said.

She nodded. "I know. I'm just being foolish, ignore me." And she did know, really. She'd spent long enough with both men to know the sort of life they led, the type of games they played. She'd just never expected to be tossed in the middle. Well, anymore than she'd placed herself there by getting close to the Doctor. The harshness of his words caught her interest, however, and she moved to push herself up on an elbow, considering him. "Do you hate him that much?" she asked. "The other you, I mean. The one I lived with?"

It was a strange concept, hating oneself. She couldn't quite fathom it.

"Mmm, did you?" Still sore and weak from her time on Castrovalva, Lucy couldn't help but poke a little fun at the Doctor, a fraction of her snark returning as she looked him over. He really was terribly handsome. It was nice, having him beside her. It was nice, having a Knight. "How much?"

"I don't hate him," the Doctor admitted. "In another time...I might've liked to have been him. To have saved the Master where I couldn't. But that was long ago. He should've stopped this game before it started, the Master was supposed to be his responsibility."

It wasn't hatred, it was frustration. He barely knew the other man, a terrifying thought considering he was the other man.

He raised an eyebrow at her question and smirked. "Are you really asking me how much? How am I supposed to quantify it? Can't exactly pour that into litres or stretch my arms far enough apart to show just how much, can I?"

"I do," she said simply, shifting again so her back was against the headboard, a pillow tucked neatly against her tailbone. Oh, how she'd missed these pillows. They were absolutely splendid. Though she did wonder what she'd do about the throws and other things she'd left in the Fortress. It would be terribly unfortunate if she couldn't retrieve them later. "He took Harry away from me. If it wasn't for him, none of this would have happened."

Lucy frowned, realising how that must have sounded. "Things would have been different, I mean," she offered weakly. "Harry wouldn't have--"

Well, end that one before she started, yes?

Focusing on the absurdity of the Doctor's words was a welcome distraction and Lucy let herself chuckle. "I don't know," she said. "I think it would be rather silly if you tried. Surely you have some way to express it?"

"Don't go passing blame around. It's all over, now." He moved his hand from her shoulder to cup her cheek. He wanted to say she had no right to blame him, but it was an old, old fight. There was no reason to bring it back up again, especially not when they'd just gotten her back.

He didn't want to have the last word in an argument. It was entirely possible he was growing. He'd make sure to bring that up to his human self, show him how wrong he was about Lucy. Lucy helped him grow.

"Well, considering the state of missing someone isn't a liquid, you can't bottle it up, and it isn't a solid, so you can't weigh it...I think this might be a complicated mathematical structure just waiting to be written, you know..." He put his other hand to his chin in
mock-thought. "You know, quite a few people measure it in arms' lengths, so it might be a certain size depending on the space it takes up, in which case I'd need to use cubic metric degrees..."

Lucy sighed, pressing her cheek against his palm, shivering a little at the cold. It wasn't unpleasant, though, and she had no intention of pulling away. "I hope," she murmured, and let it go at that. She didn't want to dwell on it, not when she was with him after such a long time (was it really all that long, though?) A rather silly, romantic notion occurred to her that if she could just stay in his arms, she'd be happy, but she shoved it aside for the rubbish it was. She was neither that naive nor that girlish to think so foolishly.

It was nice, though, being this close to him again.

Listening to him babble was all but nauseating and Lucy rolled her eyes, pulling his hand from her cheek gently. "You do like hearing yourself talk, don't you?" she quipped, leaning forward to catch his lips with hers and thus silence him. When she pulled away, she grinned, pressing her forehead to his. "That's all you needed to say."

"That does seem like a much better answer than a mathematical formula," he admitted with a nod. "Not nearly as accurate, buuuut I'm sure we can handle a little inaccuracies."

Just a few.

"I---"

He thought that now, yes, now would be a good time to tell her that he loved her. After all, he managed to admit as much to the Master, going so far as to tell him that he loved her when she was only Lucy, not the Master's wife. And they both knew, right? It would make saying the words that much easier.

Instead, he leaned forward and caught her lips again.

It was moments like this she wondered why she'd ever left. Why she'd chosen to go back to Harry, who hadn't kissed her since this entire affair had erupted, when she could have stayed and spent her nights in the Doctor's arms, instead. And even if she knew the answer to her own question, it didn't make this moment any less splendid.

Breaking the kiss after what seemed like minutes, Lucy smiled, scooting as far over on the bed as she could and laying her head on his shoulder, drinking in the sight of her room. She'd have to get used to it, after all. She'd be here for a while yet. "I suppose this means I can't be Lucy Saxon anymore, does it?" she asked airily. "I don't think Harry would ever take me back now, would he?"

"You can be whoever you want," the Doctor replied, content with her closeness. "You've got that much freedom, now. Choose your own way, your own name. Anything you want."

It was the best way to start over. And she'd have to. The Master wouldn't take her back, no more than he'd take the Doctor back if he begged for his friendship again. Which, as a matter of fact, he had, on many occasions. The Master didn't understand forgiveness. It was one of his most frustrating flaws.

The Doctor leaned his head against hers and winced, pulling back as her tiara had stabbed him in the jaw. "Sorry. Let's...just.." He fiddled a little with the tiara in her hair.

"I rather liked being Lucy Saxon," she replied dourly. "It was much better than just being 'Lucy'. At least people paid attention. I got what I wanted. Can you really give me the things I want, Doctor?"

Away from the Master or not, Lucy's ideals hadn't changed. Her past hadn't suddenly rewritten itself. She still longed for the same power and prestige as she always had, still dreamt of death and how her hand might be part of it. It was tempered now with travel and adventure, yes -- something she'd never believed possible, not with her life -- but he couldn't change her completely just by separating her from her husband.

She winced when he leaned against her, frowning. "Oh, just take the rubbish thing off," she said testily, reaching up to begin removing the pins holding it in place and letting her hair down in the process. "It's been a terrible bother ever since he had me put it on. Detestable things, really."

"I haven't got a thing to give you," the Doctor said, honestly. "Well,. besides the universe. But that's really for travel and sight-seeing. And the occasional show. A permanent holiday. Not quite the universe watching you, but at least you'll have seen all of it."

It wasn't what she wanted, and he knew it. She was ambitious to a fault, and wanted things far beyond what he wanted. Which was all right, really. Just different. Compromise was part of any companionship.

He took a lock of her loose hair and twirled it around one of his forefingers. "And I'm rather fond of Lucy. No 'just' about her, no siree."

"The universe loses some of its appeal when you won't be ruling it, to be certain." Lucy laughed lightly, waving a hand dismissively. "It does have a certain amount of charm, though. I always did fancy going on holiday. And it's been such a long time since I've had the chance."

He could give her that, she knew. Relaxation (so much as his adventures allowed, at any rate), sight-seeing, just newness in general. Harry had given her that, too, and she wasn't stupid enough to see the parallels between her husband and the Doctor. She was rather certain part of her attraction to him came from that very same ability. She could go places and be someone. It would be harder with him, knowing his own moral anchors, but she'd find a way around those soon enough, she was sure.

His playing tugged a little at her scalp and she tilted her head to accommodate him, sighing softly. She felt a kid, enjoying a go of her mum brushing her hair. "Mmm, do you? I think you just have an aversion to real names, Doctor. Too many syllables?"

"Oi, now, Lucy's a real name. Wonderful name, in fact. Two syllables, roll off the tongue with just the right amount of pizazz. That's what your name has, Lucy. Pizazz."

And no, no, he couldn't offer her up the world on a platter, but, really, what would they do with it?

"I think there's a lot more fun in not ruling the universe. Too much effort, all that diplomacy and strategy and meeting-attending. No, I think just a quick trip round the non-touristy areas is best. See a little of everything and never have to stay long enough to cause too many ripples."

She tilted her head to accommodate him and he moved his hand slowly to her hair, to tangle a little in the blond curls. He missed this, too. This calm sort of intimacy. This familiarity.

She almost snorted, if it wouldn't have been the most horrific thing possible for a lady of her standing to do. "You mock me," she quipped. "It's boring and plain and nothing special at all. It's terribly hum-drum, if anything. You're a wretched liar, Doctor."

He'd never really understand, she knew. He simply didn't have it in him to rule, to govern, to thrive on intrigue and deception. Politics were as much an art as anything else and she'd like to think she'd been well on her way to perfecting it when he finally showed up.

"I enjoy it, Doctor," she said, closing her eyes and feeling him beside her. "The strategy is what makes it so enjoyable. You honestly don't think people go into politics for the meetings, do you?"

It still astounded her how he could be so very naive sometimes. But then he played with her hair or breathed against her lips or was simply there and any frustration or anger or incredulity fled from her for want of the comfort he gave. So it wasn't all that surprising to find herself arching into his touch, sighing blissfully at the contact.

"I could never understand it. Voted President of Gallifrey twice and all I could think was that those meetings were going to just be terrible." And so, he fled. Ran away even when he was welcomed with open arms. The consummate pariah. The self-made Outsider.

And now, alone.

"I'm not lying," the Doctor replied, a little offended. "Lie about your name? Absolutely not. Other things, maybe. But not the important bits. Well, the terribly important bits. Well, not the bits like your name. If anyone knows the importance of names, it's me. And I like your name."

"I can't imagine you as president of anything." Which was true. He was simply too ... flighty. "Whoever voted you in much have been daft. Or playing a rather delightful prank on the rest of the universe." Lucy grinned, tapping his nose playfully.

And oh, look, now he was rambling. Rolling her eyes, Lucy shushed him with a finger, untucking herself from against him to scoot toward the opposite side of the bed. When she'd made sufficient room, she motioned for him to join her. "It'll be more comfortable," she explained, hoping to stave off any questions. "I don't think I can walk much and it must be dreadfully uncomfortable sitting on the floor like that, so you might as well join me for our chat. As for my name, well." She shrugged. "To each his own, I suppose. Though I do feel a bit at a disadvantage, not knowing yours. Your real one, I mean. I think I'd like to judge."

The Doctor considered the bed, and considered how sore his knee had become from how he was sitting on the floor. Maybe the indication she was making was that she missed him more than the life she was going to have to give up. Maybe she forgave him. Maybe a little bit, at least.

He winced as he got to his feet, then joined her in bed. His left pant leg was charred and his leg was blistered, but the injury, like the wound on his hand, would heal. He considered this to be more than a little bit more important.

"Oh, mine's not so interesting. Doctor's better, I think. Tells a good bit about a man, what he calls himself. Or woman. You being the Queen, after all." He smiled, remembering that conversation. Never an easy conversation with Lucy, but the enjoyment was in the challenge. Maybe political intrigue was like that, too.

Oh, he looked absolutely dreadful. Lucy frowned, watching him as he stood, her expression unreadable as she considered his wounds -- and reconsidered him joining her. She did intend on sleeping here, and if he went and mucked it all up with his injuries she'd be quite put out. But she didn't stop him, either, and once he'd gotten settled, she moved closer again, tucking herself against his side, head resting on his shoulder again.

She used to sit like this with Harry whenever he watched his shows. A sad smile tugged at the corner of her lips at the thought, but she banished it just as quickly. There was no sense in letting him see her like that.

"You aren't curious at all, though? About what others might think?" She tilted her head up to look at the side of his face. "And Queen is quite a bit more commanding than Doctor. It seems anyone can be a doctor these days, but it takes a certain breed to be a queen."

"It's not so easy," the Doctor replied. He liked her here, tucked up against him. It felt like he could protect her but she still didn't hold him in place. He wondered how she knew that was the perfect way to lay against him.

That was her, though. Lucy. Well, Queen, if she preferred it, but that didn't roll off the tongue quite so well.

"I don't know. Queen also implies a good deal of stuffiness and self-importance, I don't think you deserve quite so pompous a title. Besides, Queens are born into their position, you've earned everything yourself. A bit more deserved, I think." He remembered the first time they talked about Terre D'Ange, and he told her about the gold dress of a woman who needed no one else. And now, here she was leaning against him. He'd done to her what he tried to stop the Master from doing.

"Nothing is easy with you, it seems," she murmured, squirming a little until her head could rest in the crook of his shoulder. The man needed to eat something. He was desperately thin. It made laying against him somewhat uncomfortable.

His words gave her pause and she frowned, picking at her dress. The fabric was unbelievably comfortable, a cool silk weave Harry had picked up just for the occasion, but she still felt a bit out of place in it. She much preferred her grey linens and soft leathers.

"You don't think I'm pompous?" Lucy laughed. "You must not have been paying much attention, then. But I have earned a great deal, yes," she continued, smirking. It had come at a price, but she'd done all she could to reach where she was now. She'd done more than anyone ever expected of her. It was enough to make her absolutely glow with barely concealed vanity. "You have to admit there's a certain charm in the title, though. There's beauty in being royalty that isn't in commoners."

"But you already know I'll disagree. Nothing 'common' about anyone." It was easy to say that, but he had forgiven Lucy for things he wouldn't have someone else. He couldn't keep his own ideals straight anymore.

He kept his eyes forward, away from Lucy as he asked his next question.

"Why did you go back?"

She shrugged. "Then we agree to disagree. It seems to be the way with us." Which was true, in more ways than one. Though he'd certainly managed to make her reassess some of her own ideals and perceptions in the short amount of time they'd been together. She hadn't thought anyone else could have that sort of power over her -- no one but Harry. If only she'd known how wrong she'd be when all this started.

His question made her flinch and she shifted uncomfortably, pushing herself away from the comfort his body provided and sitting straight against the backboard. "Don't you?" she countered, not looking at him. "Go back, I mean. I told you in the caves, didn't I? I still love him. I couldn't run away without at least trying to speak with him. He's done so much for me ... I couldn't possibly abandon him without at least doing that."

Of course the Doctor knew. It was different, hearing it now. After everything, she still loved him. The Doctor couldn't decide if he wanted to shout at her stupidity, admire her stubbornness, or admit how much he related.

He sat up as well and leaned his head back on the headboard.

"I can't be him, Lucy," he said. "I don't conquer worlds, I don't want to rule anyone. Is that going to be all right?"

"I'm not with you because you're him," she replied, hugging herself. "I know you're different. I know you aren't what he is. That didn't seem to be an issue before, though." Lucy pursed her lips stubbornly, knowing full well the dynamic had changed but not quite willing to admit it. It had been okay, before, because she still had Harry. She could have both sides of the coin and be content. It wasn't the same now, though. She couldn't run between both men.

The Doctor had told her, once, that it wasn't a game and she couldn't have them both. Maybe she should have listened to him then and ended it before it got this far. She just wasn't sure who she'd have ended it with.

"I can't change who I am, either, Doctor," she murmured. "I enjoy conquest, ruling, playing with others' lives. Can you honestly live with that?"

"I've never wanted you to be anyone else." It was true. She was frustrating, unreasonable, selfish, and occassionally cruel. But it wasn't that he wanted her to be different. He just wanted to make her better.

"It may come as a surprise, but I've become just a bit fond of you as you are." He smiled. "Just a bit."

Lucy let herself look at him, a mix of incredulity and smugness warring on her features. After a moment, she giggled. "Have you now?" she teased. "I suppose I've grown to fancy you a bit myself."

'A bit.' What a terrible understatement, but she let it sit there, simply watching him. A lot of things sat between them in the silence, she knew -- positive and negative. She wondered if either of them would ever voice the little secrets they both knew but couldn't admit.

Leaning into him, Lucy brushed her lips against the Doctor's ear, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Doctor?" she whispered. "Do we have to get your companions immediately? I think I'd like a few days alone. To recover, you understand."

"Weeelllll, I suppose it wouldn't really be fair to go right back to pick them up. You'll need time to recover, I'll need to heal up a bit...and this is a time machine, after all..." And, after all, it wasn't as if he'd left his companions in horrible places. His human self was finally getting a chance to relax, Jenny was exploring the universe, and Jack would be packing to go. Plenty of time.

He traced his fingertips down her shoulder, focusing on the warmth of her skin against the cold of his. He traced it back up to her neck and ear, where he mirrored the way her breath felt on his ear with his fingertips against hers.

"A lot," he said, suddenly. "I missed you a lot."

She had a quip all ready to go about his companions, a clever little retort, but then his fingers moved against her skin and she shuddered at his touch, gasping quietly. He always managed to turn the tables on her, it seemed, just when she thought she might have him cornered. There was always another touch, a word, that trumped whatever she did and left her all but quivering.

In that respect, he and Harry were frightfully alike.

"I'm sorry." The words were barely audible among the hitch of her breathing, but she didn't see any need to repeat herself. "You were right, of course. I shouldn't have left. I should have stayed here. With you." She closed her eyes, brushing her fingers against the line of his jaw. "I missed you, too."

What she said sounded like an apology, but it wasn't really necessary. Not really. While he wished he could've convinced her initially, the Master was...intoxicating. The Doctor understood. But it was over now.

"Well, you've learned an important lesson. I'm always right." He smirked teasingly at her, then leaned over to press a kiss to the side of her jaw.

He was right. He was right when he knew the Master would hurt her and he was right when he told Martha that Lucy had changed. It all worked out, though. It would be better, now.

"I'm sure." Lucy rolled her eyes, making no show of her obvious disbelief at his statement. The man was pompous as he was skinny. She supposed she couldn't fault him -- not entirely -- knowing the size of her own ego, but still. It was one thing to be right; it was another thing to think he was, the latter category being the one the Doctor most certainly fell into. And she, of course, fell into the former.

She'd let him believe it, though. For now.

Sitting up on the bed, Lucy tugged the final strands of her hair from the elaborate pile on her head, tossing the offensive tiara to the foot of the bed with a disgusted sound. Prim and proper, just let a perfectly packaged princess. She hated it. At least the gown was appealing, but it would be wretched to sleep in. "Are my things still here?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the man she'd invited into her bed. "I'd like something a little more comfortable. This is absolutely dreadful sleepwear."

He grinned broadly at her disbelief. This was fun; the little banter,
the non-explosive clashing of egos. He didn't think he could explain to her that this was one of the things he missed most.

"Hmm? Oh, haven't moved anything since the last time you stayed, so if it was here before..." He hadn't allowed himself to so much as glance at her room in the hallway after she left, before. Self-preservation and all that.

She nodded, pushing herself uneasily to her feet so she could go through the closet on the far side of the room. Her steps were uncertain at best, wobbly at worst, and she grit her teeth to keep from falling. Really, she shouldn't be this weak. It was embarrassing.

"Did you come look for me?" she asked suddenly, focusing on the conversation in the hopes it would keep her from thinking at her own failing sense of balance. Lucy had to pause at the vanity, leaning heavily against it as she fought back a wave of dizziness. She should have just stayed in bed. "Or did the other one tell you?"

The Doctor stood when Lucy wobbled, though he kept a distance. He wanted to help, but she was probably embarrassed, he didn't want to make it worse by hovering. He shoved his hands into his pockets and attempted a stance of complete relaxation, instead of worry.

"No, no. I knew you were leaving. I went back and checked, just in case. In case I was wrong, but I wasn't. The Master approached me in the Plane not long after." He'd leave out the bit where he tried to convince the Master it could just be over, and the bit where he sat waiting for the Master's letter. They...weren't very relevant.

"Do you want me to..." He gestured to the clothes in her room. Not that he had any idea what would be best for her to sleep in, but if she wouldn't ask for help...

She was immensely grateful he didn't approach her. It was bad enough she'd lost her balance to begin with. If he helped, it would only make it that much more obvious how damaged she was. And she didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to remember Harry's plan, she didn't want to remember Castrovalva, she didn't want to remember just sitting and waiting for the end. She didn't want to admit she needed the Doctor -- or that she still wanted her husband, even after it all.

"I assume you were angry." Lucy took a deep breath and made her way toward the wardrobe again, pausing only a moment to motion for him to follow. If he wanted to help, he could. "And your other self? We don't exactly get along. I'm sure he was glad to be rid of me."

"Not angry." Frustrated, rejected, yeah. But not angry. Angry came later and it wasn't directed at Lucy.

He followed, opening the wardrobe and glancing in. What would she want to sleep in? "This is why I have the same suits and jim-jams. Much less complicated."

At her comment about his human self, the Doctor had no answer. He'd long since learned that the two of them thought along very different lines. He did know his human self wished it would all end, the fighting between the Master and the Doctor.

"I'd have thought you furious." Lucy eventually made her way to the wardrobe, placing a delicate hand on the Doctor's shoulder as she looked in, pointing out a simple white linen dressing gown. It would do. "Harry was. I've never seen him so angry..." It hadn't even been an obvious anger, either. She could have handled that. But this ... silent fury, it had unnerved her so. If he'd just given her something, an angry word, a shake, anything, it would have been so much easier. At least with the Doctor, she knew where she stood. He might pretend he hand a handle on his emotions, but he wasn't so clever as that to hide them completely.

His silence about his companion was far more telling than anything he could ever say and she nodded to herself. It would seem they might need to speak at some point after all. Hopefully once it was all over with.

She snorted derisively at the Doctor's comment, though, resting her head against his shoulder. "Now you just need a better understanding of what's actually pleasant to look at."

"Actually, I'm more interested in what feels comfortable," the Doctor said, picking the dressing gown out of the wardrobe and handing it to her. "I don't have to look at me. Well, sometimes. But those are very unusual sometimes."

He wasn't sure what happened next. She would sleep, he would go into a brief healing trance for his leg and hand, they'd pick up his companions...then what? He was never very good with considering what was next, only what was.

He'd have to manage the Master, sooner or later. Preferably later. And he'd have to work things out with his human self, preferably sooner.

"Yes, but I have to look at you." She smirked, taking the gown, and turned her back to him, motioning toward the lacing up her back. "Undo this, please."

Lucy chewed her lip while she waited, considering the future. "You're picking up your other self first, yes?" she asked, glancing across her shoulder to try and catch his expression. "Can we pick him up in a few days? Three or four, maybe? And you can show me how to land the ship. I don't think you've shown me how to do that yet. And we can, ah ... catch up, I suppose, in the meantime?" Her voice lilted playfully and
she giggled. "Mmm, wouldn't that be delightful?"

He fumbled a little at undoing the laces. He wasn't sure how the Master managed to tie them in such a complicated design. Complicated for the sartorially inept, though the Doctor never considered himself such.

"Time machine. The plan is for him to not have to wait more than a few hours, but as long as I time it right, we can take as long as we need." He caught her gaze when she glanced over her shoulder. At least she was recovering quickly. He worried she might be in pain--emotionally as well as physically--for quite some time after this. But Lucy was stronger than she looked.

"I suppose we could," he replied with a small smile.

It took him longer than she'd expected to unlace her and Lucy rolled her eyes, finally shrugging out of the dress when he was done. She was too tired to care what he thought and slipped into the nightgown he'd handed her without a word, finally turning to look at him, leaning against the outside of the wardrobe. The necklace he'd given her rested lightly between her breasts and she fiddled with it, not really paying attention to her movements.

"Mmm, that's perfect," she murmured, more to herself than to him, but gave the Doctor a broad smile all the same. If it didn't quite reach her eyes, well, that wasn't exactly uncommon with her. And she had, after all, just had to run from her husband. "Then we'll both rest and put this horrible ordeal behind us, spend some time reminiscing," she said, stroking her fingers over his chest in a decidedly familiar fashion, "and then pick up your companions. I do believe you owe me a dance after all of this, Doctor. Or at least a planet."

The Doctor's hand rested on her shoulder, his thumb toying with the material of her nightgown. It felt very nearly impossible that it was only hours ago that she was the Master's prisoner, days ago that she left him to go back, and days before that that everything was still such a secret. And now, it was out.

It was better that it was out. He was fantastic at keeping secrets for himself, but terrible at keeping them for others.

"Yeah, I think we can manage that." He touched the crystal of her necklace briefly. She still had it, she still wore it. He wondered if the Master let her keep it for the purpose of hurting her, or the Doctor. It was never easy to tell the Master's plans.

She smiled, leaning against him, and raised a hand to brush against his jaw. "Good," she murmured, reaching up on tiptoe to kiss his chin. "Then I suggest you let me sleep and we'll start first thing in the morning. Or whatever it is on the TARDIS." Lucy smirked, turning in his arms, and gave him a proper kiss on the lips. "Goodnight, Doctor."

He would make sure it was morning wherever they landed. Things would be better, now. They'd make them work.

He pressed another kiss to her lips, then took a step back, to leave the room. "Goodnight, Lucy."