The End of the Affair (Part Two)

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

Characters: The whorish Doctor (rude_not_ginger) and his equally whorish first lady (shatteredqueen).
Location: The planet Reiss
Time: After this
Summary: On a recreational planet. Talking, dancing, and some talk about exotic jewelry.
Warnings: Some sexual innuendo. Dude, it's the Doctor and Lucy, by this point that's really sort of expected, I think.

The planet of Reiss was beautiful in the wintertime. The world was coated in a sheet of blue ice, sprinkled with purple snow. The atmosphere refused to allow any precipitation that wasn't multicolored, but the shock of colors was wonderful to observe. The Doctor thought he'd have to come back, one day, and bring his other companions here.

But, for now, he straightened his tie as he leaned over the balcony at the Castle Wistro, a site dedicated entirely to music and dance. The dance floors were cleared of the colored ice, and were instead clear with white lights shining upwards, a contrast from the colored world outside the walls.

"On Earth, the goal for a dance club is to be bright and surreally colorful to contrast with the world," he said. "For them, this is the same idea."

For being on ice, Lucy found the castle floors weren't all that cold -- or slippery. It was like walking on highly polished marble, or finely crafted hardwood floors. She quite liked it, she thought. Beautiful, elegant. It suited her perfectly. As did the man currently leaning over the balcony some distance from her, admiring the skyline. As much as she hated to admit it, he was perfect for her, too. How sobering.

Making her way over to him, Lucy tucked herself against the Doctor, glancing out over the world as he did. This was what she'd wanted -- to explore, to travel to planets that would take her breath away. It felt like forever ago he'd offered to take her anywhere; it felt forever ago she'd accepted. It felt forever ago she'd sat on Castrovalva and watched him vie for her life. Lucy frowned delicately. Yes. It had been far too long.

"Do they now?" she asked, directing her thoughts elsewhere. She giggled delicately. "It's certainly a spectacle. I'm rather pleased with the outcome. And you, Doctor?" she asked, twining her fingers with his. "Are you pleased?"

For the Doctor, that question almost deserved a little laugh. Pleased. Pleased was more than an understatement. He couldn't remember feeling this...well, if not-lonely was a correct term in the English language, that would work perfectly. Not in a long time, at
least. For all that he didn't want to admit it at first, Lucy complimented him very well. Very well.

He only had to repress the nagging memory that he'd given up whatever chance he had at reconciling with the Master this lifetime. It was...it was worth it, really. After all, Lucy would have a better life now, too. The Master and the Doctor had forever, it would never
truly be over for them. Lucy only had one life. And while this might not be the life she'd have initially chosen, it would be good.

He smiled. "Yeah, pleased. Very. Not often you find a planet as peaceful as this one. No interruptions by giant monsters this time around."

She quirked an eyebrow playfully. "So you're only happy with the planet, then? How terribly insulting to a lady."

Pulling her hand from his, Lucy leaned against the railing, her eyes roaming the horizon. "Can you tell me what everything is out there?" she asked. "All the mountains and rivers and such are named on Earth. Do they do that here?" She paused, tapping her chin in thought. "I suppose the universe doesn't work the same everywhere, though, does it? There's nothing to say they would, is there?"

"No, not just with the planet," the Doctor said, his smile broadening. He stepped behind her and looked up to where she did.

He pointed to the set of mountains in the horizon. "They call those Crionine. It means 'single sunrise mountains', because only one of the suns goes up over it. And over there, those are Dionine. Meaning 'two sunsets'. There are some planets that don't have names for their landmarks, but they don't have such easy to read topographical maps as this one."

"Mmmm," she murmured, leaning back into him, enjoying the feel of his chest against her back. It was, perhaps, the one thing he did better than Harry. Her husband simply wasn't tall enough -- she didn't feel like he could just envelop her and keep her safe. Not the way the Doctor did. Sometimes, she could pretend she could just hide with him. Harry never let her hide.

"It's beautiful," she said, eyes on Dionine, entranced a bit by the thought of two sunsets over a mountain. "I've always loved sunsets. Watching the darkness come in." She licked her lips. "Harry and I used to watch them on the roof of his flat. We--" Lucy broke off that thought, aware of what she was saying and to whom she was saying. "Oh my. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't talk about him. Not like that. Not anymore..."

"It's all right," the Doctor murmured, shaking his head. "Must've been lovely, though. Sunsets over London."

He didn't want to feel jealous about the Master, but he knew that it wasn't so easy to simply get over him, as Lucy was pretending she had. After a year of torture, the Doctor was still willing to forgive him. He imagined that, even now, he probably would. But the Master would never ask for forgiveness.

Topic change. Topic change. "Would you like to dance?"

"It was. Terribly lovely. He always showed me such beautiful things..."

For a moment, Lucy let her thoughts drift, lost in a sea of memories. She could remember watching sunsets on the roof of his flat, or the Racnoss invasion, the Cybermen and Daleks. And then after it was all done, watching the world burn, the fire lighting up her eyes as it seared over everything. She felt herself smile at the thought, closing her eyes, but when she finally tilted her head up to look, it was the Doctor's jaw she saw, startling her back to the present.

Coughing quietly, Lucy pulled away from him, turning to face the Doctor and taking his hands in hers. "That would be fine, yes," she said hastily, not quite meeting his gaze. "I think a dance would be quite nice."

If her look wasn't for him, the Doctor imagined it was for the planet they were on. And if he was fooling himself, then that was all right. This, as Lucy said it, was pleasing. And there'd be plenty of time for worrying about what it all meant later.

He took a step back and offered Lucy his arm. "Sounds like they're playing a Scriptonian Waltz," he said. "Bit like an Earth waltz."

She took his arm and let him lead her out onto the ice, finally meeting his gaze. Her smile was tremulous but bright. "It feels almost like one of my father's parties," she said, slipping an arm around the Doctor's shoulders, her fingers resting in their accustomed place against his neck. It'd been far too long since they'd last stood like this, she thought. Since they'd been this close. Without realising it, she slipped her hand into his hair, fingering the fine strands at the base of his skull. Her head rested against his shoulder. "My mother always said a waltz was only proper at a function. She was a horrible dancer, though." That familiar smirk graced her lips as she looked up at him through her lashes. "Much like you, actually."

"Are you comparing me to your mother?" the Doctor made a face. "I can never manage mothers. No more mothers, that's the motto. Frustrating, that's what they are."

He slipped one hand to her waist and the other to the back of her neck. The dance of rivals, wasn't it? Funny, it still felt natural to dance with her like this. Her fingernails scraped against the skin at the base of his neck and his breath caught at the sensation.

There hadn't been a lot of time before for intimacy, not like this. There was never enough time.

"Maybe," she murmured, not paying attention to what he said so much as his voice. Just for now, she wanted to focus on his voice. "You're both such rubbish at things."

Lucy sighed when he placed his hand on her waist and against her neck, her eyes slipping closed at the sensation. She didn't even consider it the dance of rivals anymore. Not for a long time, she realised. It was simply their dance, something shared between them in the hidden, stolen moments when she could pretend her life wasn't what it was. When she could pretend he wasn't her enemy and she didn't hate him. It was one of the only things they shared that wasn't tinged with anger and competition and pain.

Her nails dug a little harder into his skin than she'd meant for them to as she caught her breath. This wasn't the time to be thinking on such things.

Taking the lead, Lucy stepped into the waltz, pulling the Doctor across the dance floor.

"Yes, but nobody does rubbish quite the way I do. I manage to do it on exotic planets, too." He grinned a little triumphantly. Rubbish but brilliant. That was the Doctor, if nothing else. And, no matter what Lucy might say, he wasn't that terrible a dancer. He did know the waltz, after all. Learned it from the best.

He felt her nails dig into his skin and he closed his eyes briefly, giving into the sensation of the dance and her closeness. That touch was entirely Lucy: touching sensitive nerve endings and causing startling pleasure, and at the same time biting with the edge of her nails. It was just enough of both to feel strangely perfect for her.

He leaned forward, touching his temple to hers as they danced. He let his thumb trace over the back of her neck in time to their steps.

She giggled. "So it would seem," she murmured, pulling back a moment to glance at him before letting her head fall back against his chest, listening to his hearts. They were oddly soothing, just a dual rhythm that helped clear her thoughts of anything but him. "I do so love exotic places."

When he pressed his temple to hers, Lucy smiled, shivering at the feel of his thumb on her neck. It was frighteningly stimulating -- a breath stealing, stomach knotting stimulation that made her weak-kneed after such a long time without it. He always managed to make her feel weak, either through touch or words or simply caring. It was hard to remain angry, to keep her edge, when he offered her kindness. She'd never thought herself that weak, that she could be defeated so easily. Harry had warned her, but she'd never listened. She hadn't listened and now she was trapped in his arms and it was wonderful and terrifying all at once.

Squeezing her eyes closed, Lucy nudged his face from hers so she could catch his lips, desperate for the contact. Her thoughts were her enemy of late; she didn't want to think about anything for now. Not until the moment was over, at least. After that, it didn't matter anymore.

This felt good. Being close, feeling her against him. In moments like this, he could imagine that she could be everything to him, and he everything to her. It wasn't possible, of course. But moments like this made it feel possible. The way she felt and fit next to him, it felt right.

And, really, nobody took notice of the romances that easily came together, did they? Nobody wrote songs about the ones that went perfectly. And Lucy always did like it when things she did were noticed.

She caught his lips with hers. They shared who took initiative, they shared who pulled away first. But for now, while they had this? Neither had to pull away. Not yet. He pulled her ever-so-slightly closer and deepened the kiss.

The romances that came together easily might not get songs, but those that did rarely ended well. The greatest love songs weren't love songs at all, but lamentations of love lost. They were stories of those who went through fire and hell to be together, only to lose one another at the end. They were stories of love gone wrong. They were stories of loss. Lucy didn't want to be tossed aside. She didn't want to be a sad love song.

But what was the old adage? Better to have loved and lost? Perhaps it was true. Perhaps this was better to have and know it couldn't last than to never feel him against her, to know how perfectly they fit together. To know how wonderful it felt to be in his arms.

At some point, Lucy's feet had stopped leading them through the waltz and raised up on her toes, instead, intent on deepening the kiss she shared with the Doctor, on increasing contact. She whispered softly against his mouth, something that could have been 'I'm sorry' but just as easily couldn't be, the necklace around her neck pressing tightly against her chest the closer he pulled her to him.

It was entirely possible that the others on the dance floor were just being very polite, or maybe this sort of behavior was expected. In either case, the Doctor found he didn't really care why they weren't taking note of them. Only that them not interrupting this kiss was a very good thing indeed.

He also wasn't sure what she murmured against his mouth, only that the way she held him really felt too good to worry about it. So much worrying and hiding and being afraid. Now, well, they'd been through the worst, hadn't they? It was on their terms when things would end.

He broke the kiss, just enough to look at her, in his arms. Warm, beautiful. He was never a man to want the simple things in life, anyway. Sunsets were wonderful, but what it took to get to one was the fun of it.

"I love you." The words came out in a quiet breath against her lips.

His words were like being hit in the stomach and Lucy would have staggered had he not been holding her. I love you. She stared, desperately trying to work her mind around that, around hearing him say what she'd known for far too longer. To hearing what she wanted to hear and yet dreaded with every fibre of her being. Part of her screamed at him to take it back, to not say that to her, not now. Not after everything that had happened, everything that loomed ahead of them. It screamed and raged and fought with the side of her that wanted to melt into his embrace, to kiss him more deeply than she ever had before and whisper the words back to him in the hushed tones of young lovers.

Instead, she did neither, her mouth moving silently as both sides warred for dominance. Her hand on his neck trembled, her stomach quivering painfully, and she found she desperately needed a sit down.

"I..." she finally managed, licking painfully dry lips and ignoring a moistness in her eyes that shouldn't be there. Please don't say that, her thoughts pleaded. Please say it again. "Doctor, I..."

He was stunned that he'd managed to say it, himself. But too many he'd loved that he'd just let go by, keeping it in. Keeping it safe, mostly from himself. But now, there it was, out in the open. It actually felt pretty good, saying it. Terrifying, yeah, but other than that, pretty good.

He could feel Lucy tremble in his arms. Had he upset her? He wasn't sure how to react to that. Generally, when in a relationship where feelings were reciprocated, one liked to hear that sort of thing. Maybe she was having difficulties returning the sentiment? Maybe the stress of the last few days had worn her emotional walls a little too thin? Maybe it was too soon after losing the Master? It was one of those moments where he wished Lucy was easier to read. He couldn't tell what was wrong.

"It doesn't need saying," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple and keeping her close. "I just wanted to say it."

"Of course," she stammered eventually, laying her head on his shoulder and staring at his neck, slowly but surely ordering her quivering limbs to relax. "Of course it doesn't. I -- we --" Her breath rattled in her chest and she gripped him around the waist, her fingers pressing tightly into the sensitive flesh of his neck. She wasn't sure if it was because she wanted to hurt him for what he said, or never let him go for letting her hear it. She felt pulled in opposite directions, ready to be ripped in half, and clung to him out of necessity just to keep from drowning in her own thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I -- thank you, Doctor. Hearing it ... it was so lovely to hear, but Harry, it's just..." Lucy breathed out harshly, pressing her face to his neck, her lips brushing lightly against the Doctor's aorta. The sensation sent a thrill down her spine, completely at odds with her own uncertainty. Everything was moving how she wanted it to and she wasn't sure she was glad of it. "It's hard not to think of him. It's not fair to you, I know. I--" She swallowed, pulling away to look up at him properly. "Help me forget?"

He could. He could make her forget the Master in the same way he made Donna forget about him. It would only be too easy to become the only Time Lord Lucy ever knew.

But he made a promise to her once before and he would not break it. The Master's memory may have bruised an otherwise wonderful moment, but she earned those memories. He wouldn't take them from her.

And that could not have been what she was requesting. Which meant...what? What did she want? How could he make this better?

"How?"

"I chose you," she said simply. "I tried having you both for so long and you told me I was wrong, but I wouldn't listen. But I'm here now." She brushed the backs of her fingers against his jaw, tugging at his waist gently to lead him off the dance floor and toward a nearby corridor. Whether or not the other dancers were ignoring them, she'd feel much better having this conversation out of public scrutiny.

She stopped when they were through the doorway and suitably out of sight, wrapping both her arms around his neck and watching him through her lashes. It was only a matter of time, now. She just had to make sure he was hers -- completely. "If I'm with you," she murmured, leaning up on her toes to whisper in his ear, playing with his hair as she did so, "I won't have time to remember him, will I? And I've missed you so much."

She tugged on his waist and he followed her without question. What did she mean? Wasn't she with him now? That was distracting, wasn't it? And if he---

Her fingers raked through his hair as she looked up at him through her lashes. Her breath felt like a warm buzzy tingle against his ear.

Oh. Oh.

Blimey, the English language had a lot of meanings for the word 'with'.

"How much?" the Doctor teased, leaning down to press a kiss to her jaw. "If you could measure it in litres or metres or arms-spread-wide length?"

Lucy giggled girlishly, playing with the front of his suit with one hand while the other continued running through his hair. A part of her stood off to the side, silent, and simply watched, waiting, while the rest of her played along, murmuring in pleasure at the kiss. A touch here, a word there. It was almost too easy.

"Mmm, enough," she whispered huskily. "I rather think the beauty of a sunset can't quite compare to how much I desperately wanted to see you." She flicked her tongue against his ear. "Feel you."

"Now, I think you're just flattering me. I mean, really. Sunsets are amazing in the wintertime. All that snow." He punctuated each sentence with a kiss to her jaw, then her neck. He'd missed her, too.

One hand went to her hip to hold her close. It was too easy to forget himself with Lucy. Forget the rules that seemed rather ridiculous around her, and the way he was supposed to hold himself.

"I seem to remember snow being rather less than amazing," she countered, holding him close, letting her head fall back as she closed her eyes, simply feeling him. She drew one leg against his, letting out a breathy little whimper of desire that she could only hope would get a desired reaction out of him, at the same time trying to keep her own wits about her. This was a dangerous game with him and she'd lost it once before. If she wasn't careful, all her well-laid plans would crumble just as quickly. "Hardly flattering. Ice, however..."

Extricating herself from him with painful slowness, Lucy leaned back against the wall, watching him coyly. "Ice skating was most certainly amazing."

If the Doctor had known she was looking for a reaction, he might not have so readily reacted to that little noise she made. But it was a really good little noise and the first thought on his mind was that he should really, really figure out a way to make her make it
again.

The second was that he was giving in a little too easily. It was the arguing and the struggle that was the best part. Such as---

"I seem to remember ice skating being all about your competitive nature. Not that I can complain, I did race with you."

Lucy smirked. "And lost." Well, he would have, had she not tripped over some random alien in her way. She liked to think she'd beaten him, at any rate. "And is there something wrong with wanting to succeed? With being the best?" She reached out, twining her fingers in the front of his jacket, twisting them around his tie to tug him close again. "With winning? I love to win, Doctor." She tugged again, grinning. "But you knew that, didn't you?"

Something about the moment was exhilarating, she found, and not just because of their proximity. The coolness of his body against hers sent a thrill down her spine, but it was more than that. It was that familiar push and pull, that constant jarring of their personalities that had driven her inexorably closer to him in the first place. It was intoxicating, if she'd let it be, and frightfully comfortable. Just another fit for them; just another reason they meshed. It made twining him around her finger as easy as his tie was to -- but it made it that much harder to keep a level head, as well, especially when her lips were mere milimetres from his chin, close enough he could probably feel the trembling of her breath as she spoke.

"I did, as a matter of fact. It's one of your more charming qualities." He said the last with a wide, teasing grin. "Along with your strong grip."

His touch in return---two fingertips down her arm and forearm to her wrist---was gentle in contrast. Nothing really needed to be rushed. The TARDIS was in perfect (well, typical) condition, so they had, quite literally, all the time in the universe. And he liked the contrasting nature of their touches. Her firmness, his slowness. And somehow it worked.

Her laugh was decidedly dark as she let her hand trail down his stomach. "All of my qualities are charming," she murmured, pressing her fingertips to his stomach.

Closing her eyes at the sensation, Lucy let a quiet whimper escape her throat, just loud enough for him to hear. For him to know what he did to her. She almost laughed at the thought. They both did such horrible things to one another -- horrible, glorious, delicious things. Theirs was not a typical dance, but she'd never really liked being proper. No, not at all, she thought, the hand at his stomach moving lower to catch at his hip, drawing him close as he'd done with her before.

"MMm, vanity. I missed that one on the charming list, too."

She pulled him closer and he obliged. He could never quite read her, never quite figure out what she had in mind. Which was, occasionally, frustrating. Like now. Now, he thought he could tell, but then she played coy. Then he thought to back away and she pulled him close again. She was harder to figure out than a Dranzadese finger puzzle. But that only served to intrigue him more.

He leaned down to brush his lips against hers again. "Where to next, Lucy?"

His lips against hers were cold, but his breath was warm and she breathed against his mouth, reciprocating the sensation for him. Her stomach flopped at his question, twisting tightly in pleasure at the sound of his voice. Keeping control of the situation was becoming more difficult as the game intensified, but she wasn't about to lose. Not when she was so close.

"That depends," she replied, lowering her head to press her lips to his jaw, then his neck. "What do you want, Doctor?"

She asked him that once before, back on the TARDIS. Oh, how long ago, now? The answer hadn't changed.

"You."

She grinned. "Mmm, good." Lucy let her hands dance along his body a moment more before pressing lightly at his chest, sinking back to the balls of her feet and glancing down the hallway. "Just as it should be."

Pressing one last, quick kiss to his jaw, Lucy silently slipped away from him, tugging lightly at his tie. "I rather think I'd like to grab something a little more comfortable from the TARDIS, Doctor, if you don't mind finding us a room in the meantime?" Her voice was sultry, with just enough of a hint of urgency to suggest her own need for him. "I think I'd like to spend a night on an alien world for once. Just not in these skirts." She smirked, stroking his chest. "Meet me back here in about fifteen minutes? I assume you can find a room in that time."

A room? In one of the hotels? The idea seemed extravagant and unnecessary. They had the TARDIS for that. Still, the way she asked? That lilt to her voice and the way she smirked? How was he supposed to just say 'no'?

He grinned. "Oh, all right. Meet you in fifteen minutes. I'll try not to be late."

He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the side of her mouth, then took a step back. "And grab some comfortable shoes, for later. I figured we could walk down to the mountains before the second sunset."

And everything fell into place. Lucy murmured softly at the kiss, waiting quietly in the hallway as she let him step away. "Of course, Doctor," she replied, taking another moment before she turned and began heading toward the TARDIS. Fifteen minutes. She had at least that long before she had to worry about him growing suspicious, though she doubted she'd need half as long to do what she needed to do. She just wished it didn't hurt so much.

I love you. His words repeated endlessly through her thoughts as she made her way quickly back through the castle toward where his ship waited. Slipping inside, she closed the door behind her with a soft click, glancing around the console room for what felt far too long before finally making her way toward the central column, letting her fingers brush over the controls a minute more. She wouldn't see this again, she knew. Part of her said that was fine, because she'd see a better one, she'd see Harry's, but the Doctor's words continued to echo in her mind and that consolation felt hollow, at best.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Lucy sank to the ground, seeking out the wires she'd once helped him repair, and unceremoniously began yanking them out from beneath the console. She could have sworn she felt the ship shudder, and after three wires, she pulled the necklace from around her neck, using it to slice through them, instead, with each wire reminding herself this was for the best, it was for Harry, and she didn't really love the Doctor, anyway.

It wasn't so hard, obtaining a hotel room. It only required identification, some permissible form of credit, and money. The Doctor had the psychic paper, but the hotel clerk wasn't having any of it.

"Listen, mate, if you haven't got a Noxoria card, you can't register. I don't care who you think you are."

"I'm not from the Noxoria galaxy, I'm only visiting!"

"So how'd you manage to get past the gate guards? You need credit to land on this planet!"

"Well, I---"

The Doctor had a very clever retort on the tip of his tongue, but all words and thoughts were suddenly replaced with pain. Sharp, searing, burning. It seemed to course through his mind and veins. It wasn't pain like a human felt, it wasn't even pain like a Time Lord felt.

The TARDIS. The conversation with the clerk was forgotten and he stumbled away, in the direction of the ship. The TARDIS was hurt. The TARDIS was hurting. He could feel parts of her he knew were repaired rip apart. He couldn't reach her, he couldn't tell her it was all right.

It could've been seconds or minutes later when his hand went to the door and he pulled it open.

Lucy never heard the door open. When she'd ripped out as many wires as she could before the sparks began burning her hands, she'd moved onto the console proper, yanking at switches and tearing away spare parts to the best of her ability. Pieces of the console lay strewn across the grated floor and she had to be careful not to trip (again) over the discarded controls of the Doctor's precious ship. The necklace in her hand burned, held so tightly it sliced into her palm, and she flinched when a shot of electricity ran up her arm as she drove the tip of the jewellery into the console panelling near the door opening mechanism.

This was what Harry wanted. He wanted the Doctor to hurt and Lucy had promised to deliver. He didn't need to see how she shook or know just how much it ripped at her own heart. He only needed to see the end results: a hearts broken Time Lord delivered by his faithful wife. That's all. She repeated the thought with each drive of her hand toward the console, an angry mantra to keep her from falling apart.

The Doctor froze at the door. The console was torn apart and he could feel her pain and he saw how accurately power lines and heat conductors were ripped apart. Ripped apart by someone who knew how they worked. The same someone who just needed to come back to the TARDIS for a minute. The same someone he trusted. The same someone who was now stabbing the necklace he'd given her into the console. Each stab shot white-hot pain through his mind.

On instinct, not thought, he ran to the console to grab her wrists, pull her away.

"What are you doing? Stop! You can't do this!"

His hands on her wrists jarred her from her thoughts and Lucy gasped, releasing the necklace on reflex as the Doctor pulled her away from the console. She stared at him, breathing heavily, eyes wide, before setting her jaw and yanking her hands from his, taking several quick steps away from him. She stumbled momentarily over something or other on the floor, but kept her balance, her eyes never leaving the Doctor's.

And then she smiled.

"Has it been fifteen minutes all ready, then?"

It had to be the Master, he had to have done something to her, to make her act this way. Maybe hypnosis? Maybe some sort of mind---

But no, not with that smile. That was a deliberate smile. He knew that smile.

He turned and tried to assess the damage. "What have you done? You've torn out the TARDIS heating systems, the fluid link's contaminated the dematerialization circuit!" He turned back to her. "You could've killed the TARDIS!"

"Really? That wouldn't have worked." Her smile didn't falter as she walked around the console, slowly, deliberately. "I don't want to kill it. That wasn't the plan. I just wanted to hurt it, break it." Lucy giggled. "It's too bad it can't scream. I do so love it when they scream."

Pausing just opposite him on the console, Lucy idly flicked a switch, smiling to herself. "You can't run away now, though. That's all that matters."

Hurt it. Hurt the one thing in the universe that mattered most to the Doctor. Keep him from running.

It was as if something very hard and very cold was compressing his hearts. He watched her circle the console as everything that he'd brushed off fell rather firmly into place.

"The getaway from Castrovalva was too easy," he said. "Because there was no getaway. No game at all."

This time, Lucy's laugh rang through the room, echoing off the coral. "Did you really think Harry would let you go that easily?" she asked, her tone dripping with mockery. "Castrovalva was hardly a punishment, don't you think? It was far too easy and it was too impersonal. It didn't hurt, not like it needed to." Her tone shifted, anger and guilt and a hint of sadness marring her words. "Not like you hurt him. You needed to be punished, Doctor." Her eyes drifted to the console and she turned a knob idly. "We needed to be punished."

A moment passed and she looked back up at him, her smile returning to her face, just as stiff and insincere as it ever had been. "I suppose it's a good thing you got that room, isn't it? You'll be needing someplace to stay while you're stranded here, won't you?"

"And you were only too willing to help him. For what? So he'd forgive you? He doesn't understand the meaning of the word!" He circled the console, flipping switches and dials, trying desperately to control the flow of heat that was crippling the ship.

"But that doesn't matter, does it? It's not about the forgiveness, it's not about who needs to be punished. It's about you. Lucy Saxon, needing to own the universe rather than see it. I won't give that to you so you run back to him. Doesn't matter what it costs you, as long as he lets you have a piece of his universe." He stopped and looked up at her, stilling his face as best he could. He wanted to scream and he wanted to run away and right now, he could do neither.

"I was wrong about you, Mrs. Saxon. All those places we went, all those things we did together. You never changed."

"You wouldn't understand," she snapped, affronted. "You never understand! If it doesn't fit your perfect little world view, you just toss it aside!"

She watched him in silence then, wanting desperately to just sit down and hug herself and make him understand, make him see why she did what she did, but that wasn't part of the plan. He had to hurt. Showing remorse or letting her walls break down would only give him hope, give him an out from the pain he was supposed to be feeling. So instead she laughed again, cold and clipped, retreating from the console to walk lazily around the room, her fingers trailing delicately along the coral walls.

"I rather thought we'd all ready discussed my vanity, Doctor," she said, inexorably making her way to his side of the console, her steps measured and slow. "I believe you called it one of my charming traits." Her smile was vicious. "'Mrs Saxon?' How formal. Do tell me you didn't intend on calling me that in bed." Her steps brought her up directly behind him and she brushed her fingers against the nape of his neck. "It's so impersonal."

Her fingers against his neck, a sensation that was wonderfully arousing moments earlier, struck already painful nerves. The Doctor jolted forward sharply, then spun around to catch her wrist.

"I never tossed you aside," he said. His lungs burned and it felt like battery acid was running under his skin. He also felt the very impossibly inappropriate need to cry, but that he pushed back as far as he possibly could.

He released her wrist. He didn't toss her aside before, but he could change, even if she couldn't.

"Get out of here, Mrs. Saxon. You've chosen your name and yourself quite well. And I don't want either of them on the TARDIS."

She stared at him incredulously a moment, surprised at his reaction, then brought her wrist to her chest, rubbing it. He hadn't hurt her, but she wanted to rub the feel of him off. She wanted to scrub the memory of him clean, to expunge every touch and sensation and emotion from her mind. But she couldn't. Even though she wanted to, she couldn't. It wasn't so easy to forget, anymore, and she only had him to thank for.

Her chest hurt and her throat felt raw, enough so it was hard to answer at first. Swallowing hard, Lucy turned away, closing her eyes. "I don't think I want to be here anymore, either," she managed eventually, making her way toward the door, picking her way carefully over debris. "Good-bye, Doctor. And I do so hope you aren't planning on any rescue attempts this time. You're woefully unequipped."

Lucy paused, once, just outside the door, before taking that final step back into the castle and out of the Doctor's life.

He wanted her gone, he wanted to hate this situation in peace. At the same time, he didn't want her to have the last word. And that's what it was, the last word. The final exchange. Ten minutes earlier he was happy. Stupidly happy. Ignorantly blissful of what should've
been so obvious.

As she stepped away from the TARDIS, he asked one last question.

"Why? I only wanted to help you. To save you from this! And you---" he pointed at her retreating form. "Was what I saw in your mind, that was false too? All of it?"

Of course it was. For all the Doctor could know, the whole thing could've been planned from the beginning.

It was like hitting a brick wall. Lucy stopped mid-step, eyes wide and back rigid, as he shouted after her, as he had to ask that. Her hands trembled and she clutched them angrily in front of her, staring ahead at the white-ice floor of the castle because if she looked anywhere else, she'd look at him and the answer would be made obvious. Lucy had become a very skillful liar over the years, but even she doubted she could hide exactly what she felt. Not from the man who'd seen her mind.

"I didn't ask for your help," she whispered coldly, the breath rattling from her chest. "I didn't want your help. I never needed to be saved. I never needed--" Her voice cracked and she shook her head. Why did he have to ask? "You're the mind reader, Doctor. You're the one who knows how to walk people's minds. You tell me."

He wanted to believe that of course it was all fake. She'd been lying, he'd been duped, and all of his emotions towards her were in vain. It was almost easier to believe that. Because the alternative was that she truly believed it was worth walking away. Walking away and leaving him crippled and his beloved ship hurt.

But that crack in her voice. The way she spoke. He could almost think---

"No." He spoke his thought aloud before he could stop himself. "No, I've made too many excuses for you. You hurt people, you helped destroy the world, you killed Martha, you ran back to him and all I did was try to work out what you were thinking. There had to be a reason, and I could help. I only give everyone one chance. No
second chances! For no one except you! This is it, Lucy. It's over, now."

Good. Good, let him believe it. She didn't have to say the words herself and he could dupe himself into whatever lonely existence it was he craved. It didn't matter anymore. She was done with him. She'd made her choice, for better or worse.

"It was over the moment he found out, Doctor." Freed from whatever spell his previous question had forced on her, Lucy relaxed, finally turning to face him. "It was over the moment I actually had to choose. I can't live without him. I can't." She set her jaw. "And neither can you. He'll forgive you, Doctor. He'll come back, somehow. But he won't come back to me if I choose you." Lucy laughed quietly, brokenly, and smiled, one hand raised to her chest where the Doctor's necklace had once rested. "You gave me those chances of your own will, Doctor. That's your burden to bear."

He thought he should tell her that it would be better with him. It would be safer and better and more wonderful if she stayed with him and his human self and Jack and Jenny and it would be better. Then, the TARDIS in his mind cried out in pain again. His oldest friend, the one he often took for granted. The one who would never betray him.

Unlike the woman in the doorway.

"I forgave the Master once for worse than this, do you remember?" he crossed his arms and turned away. "I can't forgive you. Guess I need him more than you, too."

He began flipping switches on the console again, trying to reseal the bonds on the ship. He'd need a lot more than just switch-flipping, but he didn't need Lucy to see his panic. She didn't need to gloat.

Of course he wouldn't forgive her. Lucy had known that. She'd been perfectly aware that, no matter which choice she made, she could never have both men. One of them would forever hate her. But she'd spent so long hating the Doctor, so long outside his company, it seemed only right to push him away for Harry's sake. She'd considered the Doctor her enemy, once. She could do so again, emotions be damned. The Doctor was her enemy, Harry was her husband, and that was the only life she could accept having now.

There were no other choices.

Speaking would do nothing but give her away and so Lucy nodded in silence, watching the Doctor turn away from her and back to his precious, broken ship. And in the moments between one tweak of a switch and another, she turned on her heel and walked away.

There was no other choice.

He'd given her too many chances and she'd taken them. He'd offered her his hearts and she broke them. In the end, he supposed, it was really all his fault. He should've learned from the past. He should've known better.

He looked back to the empty doorway.

Mrs. Saxon walked out of his life.

It was better this way. He could convince himself of this. Eventually, he could convince himself that he didn't love her, either.

But that day was a long time coming. Until then, he knelt beneath the console and let his mind focus entirely on fixing the ship. It was better than thinking back on what just happened.