A/N: Just a little idea that came to me the other day when I re-watched The Sound of Drums and The Last of the Time Lords, and I was thinking about why Lucy would say "Doctor". This is what I came up with. My first try at Doctor Who fanfiction, so tell me whether it's alright or not! Please Read&Review! Thanks, enjoy!
Doctor Who Fan-Fiction. Time to Decide.
"No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted." - Aesop; The Lion and the Mouse.
Lucy sat at the long table in one of the black office chairs, staring into metaphorical space. Her beautiful red dress had been carefully pressed underneath her so it stayed smooth. A cup of coffee, black, 2 sugars, was cradled in her hands, steam gently drifting from the top, her bright red nails standing about against the dull white porcelain. She could now almost block out the throbbing ache in her right cheek. She was getting used to that.
She hardly registered the door opening and the footsteps drawing closer to her chair, too enveloped in the dizzying whirl that was her thoughts to prepare herself. She barely saw his hand reach for the slim pad of controls to press play. She didn't even react when she heard the familiar beat of his choice of music. She was particularly slow.
His hand grabbed her wrist with a little more force than necessary. She jumped. Boiling hot coffee spilt down her front, soaking through the thin layer of silk. She bit her lip to stop any sound escaping.
"Come and dance!" He exclaimed, then registered what had just happened. The smile slipped from his face, and his mouth sank into a look of disgust.
"Look what you've done now!" He hissed, yanking her up from the chair by her wrist, spilling the rest of the coffee down her in the process. He tutted. "I'll have to get someone to clean that up."
He kissed her forcefully before tutting again, loudly, and pushing her backwards. She fought with everything she had to prevent her body slamming to the floor. He stormed back out of the door, muttering to himself. She looked up at the small, aged man in his cage. He held out his hands through the bars and smiled. It wasn't how The Master smiled. Quite the opposite. This smile was full of care and worry and caution. She hesitated, listened for approaching footsteps and held her wrist out for him to look at. His hands held it as if it were the most precious thing in the entire universe , gently applying pressure.
His soft brown eyes never leaving her skin, he addressed Francine.
"Could you bring me some cold water, a cloth and the cream, please?" She let a whimper escape her closed lips and the tears in her eyes overflow and trickle down her cheeks. The Doctor wiped them away with the tip of his withered finger. If anything, the act made her want to cry more. Why was her being so nice?
"You're not like him," he said quietly, as though reading her mind, though almost as though talking to himself. "You know it's wrong, somewhere deep in there, you know." He placed his hands carefully on either side of her face, this time speaking a little louder.
"I'm going to get you out of here, away from him. I promise." As she looked into his eyes, she knew he meant it, both his eyes and his words sparkling with sincerity.
Then, she heard his footsteps approaching and the moment was gone, along with The Doctor's hands. But she wouldn't forget it. She wouldn't forget The Doctor's kindness each and every time something happened to her. She wouldn't forget his shorts, meaningful declaration. She would repay him one day, and when the time came, she knew which path she would take.