Title: The Wait
Character/Pairing: Lucy, Lucy/Master
A/N: An old piece of mine for an old friend...I really need to watch the actual series, instead of the four episodes where these two showed up
Summary: She's always waiting for him, for his attention, for his recognition.
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She sits in their castle in the sky, sits and waits. The clouds fly past them and while she knows that they aren't cotton candy (They are just water vapours, see? My hand goes through them, he tells her), she thinks that if she were to step down, she'd be able to walk on them.
Clink. The golden cage rattles again, the desperate plea of an (he wasn't always like this) old man. The shrivelled creature can't be the young warrior she met but he is and when she glances at him, there is pity in her eyes.
There is pity in his eyes too. She ignores that, doesn't want to accept the truth in it, and continues to wait.
It's always been like that, her waiting for him, her master, to arrive. When she was younger and first met him, it felt as though she had been waiting for him her entire life.
"Lucy," an excited voice cries out and she gets up from her throne. Within minutes he is giving her a quick hug and then going off to the cage. "So, Doctor, what do you think of the world now? After years...I think you should agree I won."
She's waiting again, waiting for him to get over his old friend and look at her. Just look at her for longer than a sigh and smile at her like she isn't a ghost.
"Doctor, what was that? I couldn't hear you." He turns back to Lucy now, as though remembering her, and then gives her a quick bow. "Shall we dance?"
He is drunk of his success. That's how she explains his sudden mood swings and cold hands. He's just excited.
It will wear off.
-x-
She looks at his crumpled body and her shaking hands. She killed him. It was something only she could do, something that made him stare at her and see the girl he married.
(His finger clung to hers, squeezing briefly. Eyes locked onto each other and she could hear the faint whisper, the small 'Thank you'.
Then she looked at the gun in her hands and realized that this was just a scene in her imagination, something that was communicated though the life seeping out of his body and hers too.)
As she sits on the hard ground, she realizes she is waiting again. This time, though, she will be waiting for her death.
The gun in her hands looks inviting and she draws it to her head.
This time the wait won't be too long.
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