Lucy slipped into the Throne Room. Harry had told her to be there, but she was a bit early. Her eyes turned to the Doctor, who sat in his wheelchair, his back to her, staring out the window at a blazing sunset. Lucy often did that herself, wishing she was a bird and could fly away into the cloudless blue.
"It's lovely, isn't it?" she asked, coming to stand beside him.
He smiled.
"I've seen thousands of sunsets. On thousands of planets. But I never really had time to watch the whole thing before. It's ironic," he said with a small smile. "The only time I slow down enough to enjoy the beauty of something is when I'm a prisoner."
"What's it usually like?" Lucy asked.
"Oh, you know. Run from the bad guys, save the world, have adventures. That sort of thing."
"But you don't watch sunsets?"
"When would I have the time? Your planet gets in more trouble than any other one I know. Always on the move, that's me."
"Jack says you're always getting into trouble," Lucy said.
The Doctor's face lit up at the mention of Jack.
"How is Jack?" he asked.
"As well as can be expected," Lucy answered honestly. Something about the Doctor made her franker than she would have normally been.
"Is the Master still torturing him?"
"Yes," Lucy said. "He kills Jack again and again. It's one of his favorite pastimes."
"You said he wants to find out why Jack is immortal. He always had an obsession with living forever. I can't figure out why he'd want to. You only outlive your friends." The Doctor's eyes were on the horizon again, and Lucy knew that he was remembering old friends, now long gone.
"You won't outlive Jack," Lucy said, attempting to lighten the mood.
It worked. The Doctor smiled.
"No, you're right about that. I probably won't. I ran into him in World War Two, you know."
"Yes, he said that," Lucy answered.
"He stole a march on my companion. We were competing for her attention the entire time, and Jack was winning. It wasn't till I remembered how to dance that I got her back." There was a faint smile hovering on the Doctor's lips, his face filled with the happy memory.
Lucy drew closer to him, and put her hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry. For all of this," she whispered.
He looked up at her, and grasped her hand.
"So am I," he said.
"Oh hoh! Darling, you're here!" Harry fairly bounced into the room.
Lucy sprang away from the Doctor as if she had been scalded. Harry didn't seem to notice. He was too busy looking delighted with himself.
"I'm glad you're here to witness this, Dearest. Something very exciting has happened! We've caught a leader of the resistance."
Lucy froze. Martha! The Doctor's face must have shown the same horror, because Harry made a face at him.
"Not your precious companion, Doctor. Not so lucky as that. But one of her compatriots, and leader of the resistance in Russia. Bring him in!"
Sentries brought in a man chained hand and foot, their guns trailed on him. Behind him, a toclafane hovered. The very sight of it made Lucy shiver. The guards forced the man to his knees in front of Harry.
"Behold," Harry said grandly. "A man who would stand up to me and my rule. We'll you aren't so tough now, are you?" He gloated.
The man spit at Harry's feet.
Harry just laughed.
"You may apologize now, and I will hear your pleas," he said.
"I would rather die," the man answered, his speech heavily accented with a Russian brogue.
"That can be arranged!" Harry yelled. Then, he seemed to calm down. "You won't apologize? That's too bad. I would have liked a show. So, you're the one that organized the resistance that's been giving me so much trouble."
Though he was on his knees, the man stood tall, his face proud and impassive. Lucy's heart ached for him. His bravery would come to nothing in the end.
"That's right," he said.
"Who else was helping you?" Harry asked.
"No one."
"Don't make me ask again. Who helped you smuggle Martha Jones out of the country?"
"I alone was responsible," the man insisted.
"Well my toclafane friend here begs to differ," Harry replied, his grin becoming manic.
Behind him, the toclafane giggled, and moved toward the man menacingly. The man's façade slipped, and he recoiled from the floating metal ball.
"Your life will be spared if you have information for me. Otherwise you're useless." Harry's smile grew large, so that all his shining white teeth could be seen. "Expendable."
"I don't know anything," the man said, his proud demeanor back.
"And if you did?" Harry asked.
A muscle twitched in the man's face.
"I wouldn't tell you."
Harry leaned closer to the man.
"Wrong answer," he said, smiling. "Because you see, only the Doctor here," he shot a contemptuous look at the weathered man beside Lucy, "Believes in second chances. Me, I think they make people soft. I'm not a soft man. Toclafane?"
"Yes, Master?" the childlike voice of the toclafane asked.
"Kill him,"
"Oh yes! Yes, yes, yes!" the toclafane giggled manically.
"No!" the Doctor cried, trying to stand up in his wheelchair. His strength was not enough, and he fell back. "Don't do this, Master! Let this man go! Don't do this!"
Harry laughed.
"See what I mean? See what you've been reduced to, Doctor? Pleading for doomed men's lives. Well this one can't use it. He's already gone." Harry looked the man in the eye. "Have you anything to say?"
"We will fight your tyranny no matter what you do. We will fight and we will win. You cannot keep us in slavery and oppression forever," the man replied, getting more spirited with each word.
Harry yawned.
"Yadda yadda yadda. You all say the same thing. Can't you ever think of something original?" he signaled to the toclafane. "Time's up. Das Vidanya."
Lucy looked away. She knew what was coming.
The toclafane aimed its ray, and shot the man.
"No!" the Doctor yelled, struggling to his feet. But it was too late. The man crumpled in a charred heap on the floor.
The Master laughed.
"You're so pathetic it's almost amusing," he said to the Doctor, pushing him back into his wheelchair. . Then, he turned to Lucy. "Will you come with me, Dearest?"
Lucy struggled to find her voice.
"I think I'll stay," she said. "The… the sunset," she pointed vaguely to the window, where the last crimson rays of the sun were dipping below the horizon, bathing the whole room in a red glow. Before it had been cheery; now it was sinister.
Harry shrugged.
"Suit yourself. Don't be too long." He was too buoyed up by his killing of the man to care much what she was doing. "Clean up this mess," he said to the guards as he left the room.
The guards moved the body, and all was quiet in the throne room again.
The Doctor fell back in his wheelchair, panting.
"Why didn't you try to stop him?" he demanded.
Lucy stared out the window.
"What is it you think I could have done?" she asked.
"You could have stopped him from killing that man! You could have done something. Instead you just stood there!" the Doctor said furiously.
"I didn't have a choice," Lucy said, turning to the Doctor as her anger got the better of her.
The Doctor's eyes shining out of his wrinkled face seemed old beyond reckoning, and filled with deep sadness.
"You always have a choice," he said.
Lucy glared at him, and pointed at her arm, which was still in its sling.
"Last time I stood up to him, he fractured my arm. The next time, he'll kill me. Don't you think I would try to stop it if I could? But I don't. I don't have a choice."
The Doctor's ancient eyes pierced into her.
"Choices have consequences, and dying may be one of them. But you always have a choice, Lucy."
Lucy turned on her heals and marched out of the room, the Doctor's words echoing in her head.
--
"When I was a kid I used to love these," Jack said, his mouth full of pink and purple striped ice cream.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Lucy chastised, thinking to herself that watching Jack devour the treat was worth the risking discovery dipping into Harry's private store.
"Bossy," Jack grumbled.
Lucy smiled at his childishness, and fed him another spoonful.
"I talked to the Doctor yesterday," Lucy said.
"Oh yeah? What did he say?"
"We talked about you," Lucy said, leaving out the Russian rebel. Jack didn't need to hear about any of that. "He told me about how you two met. In World War Two, he said."
"That's right. Those were good times."
"He said you nearly stole his companion away from him," Lucy said, watching for his reaction. To her relief, Jack laughed.
"He would say that. Nah, she always belonged to him anyways."
Lucy felt the curious stab of jealousy that she had felt before when this girl was mentioned.
"He was chatty then?" Jack continued. "I heard he never says anything to the Master."
"He says some things," Lucy said, thinking of the Doctor pleading for the rebel's life. "And he talked to me."
Jack nodded sagely.
"I'm not surprised. He always had a weakness for blonds."
Lucy laughed.
"He must be hundreds of years old! I doubt that's what he was thinking!"
"I'm over a hundred," Jack said, giving her a sideways glance.
"But you don't look it," Lucy argued.
Jack grinned.
"Neither did the Doctor, once upon a time."
"True," Lucy agreed.
Jack contemplated the half-finished bowl of ice cream.
"My mom used to give me some money and we'd go together to the corner store and buy junk food, and eat it all the way back home," Jack smiled at the memory. "We'd sit outside on the front step and see who could make the best face when we ate sour candies." He smiled at the recollection.
"Did you have any other family?" Lucy asked. She regretted it instantly when a shadow crossed Jack's face.
"No. My little brother and father died when I was 12. It was just me and Mom most of the time," his face brightened, and a small smile appeared. "That's why I joined the Time Agents- to make Mom proud."
"She would be proud of you," Lucy murmured.
Jack gave her a tender smile.
"What about you, Lucy? Do you have any family?"
Lucy shook her head.
"Not any more. My mother died when I was a baby. I don't remember her. My father was a politician. He was always busy or… angry. He drank a lot. I was brought up mostly by the housekeeper till I was 11, and then I was in and out of boarding schools. I hardly saw him. He died in a car crash when I was 17."
"I'm sorry," Jack said, his voice gentle.
Lucy shook her head.
"Like I said, I hardly saw him except on summer holidays. And even then, we just lived in the same house. We didn't actually do anything together. He left me his fortune, which made me an heiress. I suppose that's why Harry noticed me."
Jack's eyes travelled up and down Lucy, causing a blush to tinge her cheeks.
"I'm pretty sure that's not why he noticed you."
Lucy smiled at him fondly, but ignored his comment.
"I spent my holidays at the family estate, Tarminster. It was beautiful there. All trees and sunshine and endless days outside. Nobody cared much what I did, so I sort of ran wild all over the grounds. I had a fort a tree where I would play for hours. I would sit out on the balcony overlooking the lake, and read in the sunshine. And if it rained, I explored the house. It was so big and old and it's been in the Cole family for generations." Lucy felt the happiness of those long-ago days wash over her.
"That sounds nice," Jack said, smiling. "Tell me more about it." He closed his eyes, as if to picture what she was describing.
"My bedroom was huge. The bed had a canopy over it, and was raised on clawed feet. It was much too big for me when I was little, but I loved it. The double windows opened to a view of the lawn down to the lake, and right in front I had a huge chair that I would read in all the time. In the afternoons I would ride my horse over to the neighbouring estate, where a friend of mine lived. We chummed around all summer, played and laughed and took rides and walks in the wooded areas. I was a fearless swimmer, I climbed trees, I ran and won races. And then when we were tired we would lie down on the grass and wait for the stars to come out." Lucy smiled. She hadn't thought about those times in years.
"You should go back there, when this is all over," Jack said, opening his eyes.
Lucy shook her head.
"I can't. Harry sold Tarminster to pay for his campaign," A thought came to Lucy quite suddenly. "It probably isn't even there any more. It's probably been destroyed in everything that's going on." She looked down at her shoes. She mourned the loss of the one place where she had been happy.
"That's nothing," Jack said. "Wait till your home isn't there yet."
If Jack's intention had been to lighten Lucy's spirits, and bring her thoughts back to more cheerful things, he succeeded. She laughed out loud.
"It's hard to believe you were born in the future," she said.
Jack grinned widely.
"Yup. I used to think the 21st century was the most exciting time ever. Used to play I was there, imagine what it would have been like. I couldn't want to be a Time Agent so I could see it for myself. The 21st century is when it all changes," He proclaimed.
Lucy scrunched up her nose.
"That sounds familiar. Are you sure you haven't said that before?"
"You need to stop listening to me," Jack said, offhand.
Lucy giggled.
"That won't be hard."
"Gee, thanks," Jack replied.
They both grinned at each other.
--
Lucy sat on her bed, turning the chess queen over and over in her hand. She couldn't get the Doctor's words out of her head. He had said she had a choice. What choice did she have? She was as helpless as a puppet on strings; as helpless as a… as a chess piece. Others made the rules, defined her actions, and dictated her moves.
"You always have a choice,"
The words repeated endlessly in her head. Over and over she heard him say them; over and over she saw the look of sadness and disappointment in his ancient eyes.
"What choice do I have?" she asked the queen in her hand. "Stop playing the game? What would that prove? What good would I be to anyone dead?"
The glass figure did not answer.
Lucy moved her fingers over the cool surface of the chess piece, tracing its contours with her fingertips.
"What choice do you have?" she asked it. "Your every move s dictated. A rook has to go in straight lines. It can't go diagonal even if it wanted to. The bishop can, but it can't go straight. A knight can only go in "L" shapes, even if by moving another way he could check the king. You don't have any more choice than I do."
Again, the queen said nothing.
Lucy turned it over again, tapping her fingernail against its surface.
"You're just a pawn," she murmured.
Then, she sat up suddenly, the force of the unexpected revelation stunning her for a moment.
"No, you're not," she said slowly. "You're not a pawn, you're a queen. Everyone's moves are dictated, except yours. You can move any way you want. Backwards, forwards, sideways. You have freedom."
Lucy sat back on her pillows.
"Not total freedom," she admitted. "Someone still moves the pieces. But within that, you have the most freedom of any piece. You have power no one else has."
She paused for a moment, thinking about the implication of what she had just said.
"I am the queen," she said finally. "It's me. I have the freedom on the board. I am closest to the king."
Lucy waiting in another shocked silence. The whole world seemed to stand still, waiting for her to react. She turned the chess piece over in her hand again.
"So now, the question remains," she said to the queen. "Am I a white queen or a black queen?"
As ever, the glass figure kept its own council.
Lucy set it on the small table beside her bed, and turned out the light.
Author's Note: Poor Lucy. I imagine she was much neglected and forgotten as a child. Which is probably why she latched on to the first person to show her what she thought was genuine affection: Harry. My thoughts about her wealth is that Harry used most of it to fund his campaign, and Lucy was so wrapped up in him she didn't object.
Guess what? I finally know where this story is going! (claps and cheers). I managed to plan it all out so that everything fits in with the canon story line. My careful plotting will make this story a lot easier to write, and thank goodness for that.
This has been a tough fic! I'm not used to writing tragedy. I'm much more of a fluff writer. I've had to mix the writing of this up with my other story, New New Life, which is much lighter, just so I can have some relief, and remember that there is some happiness in the world, LOL.
I know the chess queen can't do every move. She can't do the knight's right? But for the sake of Lucy's argument, let's just go with every move. Otherwise the metaphor doesn't work quite as nicely.
My thanks to I am the Lev and AstanteSanaSquashBanana for their ideas and encouragement. Couldn't do without you guys!
