"If I have to go one more day wearing this ugly skirt, I'm going to scream."
"Mum, you don't really have a choice."
"I know. That's why I hate it."
The voices were faint. They were out in the hallway, Lucy guessed. They sounded familiar, but Lucy was too tired to try to recognize them. She was floating alone in deep water. It was dark and cold, and Lucy could feel the tongues of icy water licking at her sides. But no, it wasn't water. It was molasses. Sluggish, sticky molasses that she was struggling through towards the voices.
"Well there's really no point in hating it then is there?" a voice said, opening the door to the office.
Tish. The voice belonged to Tish. What was Tish doing in an ocean of molasses? Come to think of it, what was Lucy doing in a sea of molasses? Molasses was something cowboys put on bread in the Old West movies she used to watch with Jerome, the butler. People didn't swim in it. But then why was she wet and cold?
The footsteps got closer.
"All I'm saying is, I can't stand much more of this," the other voice said. Lucy's mind struggled to comprehend who it was. Francine, Tish's mother. No one else's voice had that cold, flinty quality.
"Again, not much of a choice," Tish replied. She was moving around the room, picking things up and dusting. Lucy heard the swish of the dusting rug as she wiped off shelves and books. The footsteps were getting closer.
"Tish, I think there's a sack been left here," said Francine, in disgust.
"Where?" Tish asked.
"There. Half slumped on the chair. Honestly, he may be the Master, but he's a total slob. Who taught him to pick up after himself?"
"No, I don't think it is a sack. It's hard to tell in this gloom. Why don't we turn the lights on, just this once?"
"You know he doesn't like that," Francine remarked.
The footsteps were now very close.
"I think it's a person!" Tish gasped. She gently shook Lucy's shoulder. "Are you ok? Hello?"
"Probably dead," Francine remarked bitterly. "I wouldn't be surprised."
Dead. Was that was Lucy was? No, you didn't have pain if you were dead. And it was beginning to hurt again. A dull ache was building up in Lucy's middle. It was a struggle to rise to the surface of the sluggish molasses of Lucy's mind.
"Help," Lucy croaked. That single word took most of her energy.
"Lucy?" Tish gasped, sounding frightened.
"Lucy? Lucy Saxon? His wife?" Francine asked, her voice hard. "Don't touch her."
"But Mum she's covered in something. Turn the light on."
"We should just leave," Francine said. "Just leave her there. She's probably drunk."
"She might be hurt," Tish argued.
"She's the enemy," Francine hissed. "Or have you forgotten what she did to us? To Martha? To the rest of the world?"
"Not her, the Master. He beats her around, Mum. I've seen it. She's just as much a prisoner as we are. He hurts her just like he hurts us. Now turn on the light, or I will."
Francine grumbled under her breath, but she walked over to the lamp and turned it on.
Light flooded Lucy's closed eyes. She hunched closer to the chair in an effort to protect herself from the cruel light which pierced her closed lids.
Tish gasped.
"She's covered in blood!"
Blood? Lucy's addled mind struggled to comprehend it. Why was she covered in blood? And then it came back to her. The fog of her mind lifted, and what it exposed was so dark, so awful that Lucy wished it would come back. She remembered what Harry had done – to her, and to her baby, her Ellie. A sob caught in her throat.
Tish shook her gently.
"Open your eyes, Lucy. Tell me what happened. How did you get like this?"
Lucy shook her head. She couldn't open her eyes. Perhaps if they stayed closed she would go back to sleep, and then wake up from this nightmare. To open her eyes was to acknowledge that this anguish-soaked world was the real one.
In the end, it was the pain that made her open her eyes. It had been building up slowly from a dull ache and now was progressing to sharp pains.
"What happened?" Tish asked, bending over her.
Lucy looked into Tish's eyes, for once not hostile or suspicious.
"My baby," she whispered. "My baby's dead."
"She's had a miscarriage," Francine said, somewhere behind Tish. "I recognize it. Had two between Martha and you. Never this bad though."
It took so much effort just to stay awake, to stay conscious. Lucy gathered whatever strength she had left in her.
"Help me," she managed to choke out.
"Why should we?" Francine asked, turning away. "We should just leave you here. You're the one who's doing all this. Or if not you, you're going along with it."
The pain was becoming overwhelming once more. Lucy knew that if she lost herself in that cold, dark sea again, she would not come back, but she could feel herself slipping away from shore.
"Come on," Tish said, slowly prying Lucy away from the chair.
"What are you doing?" Francine demanded.
"I can't leave her here, Mum. She'll die and you know it."
"Then let her die," Francine snapped.
Tish shook her head.
"I can't. Come on, Lucy. Up you get." She lifted Lucy to her feet.
Lucy didn't have any strength to stand. She leaned entirely on Tish, who wobbled under the unexpected weight.
Francine's arm came around Lucy's shoulder.
"This doesn't mean I forgive you," she said. "This just means Tish is right: we can't let you die here and have you on our consciences."
"Dr. Sorenson will know what to do," Tish said.
Lucy leaned on the two woman as they helped her out of Harry's office. She shot one last glance back at the chair where she had been slumped. Its pristine whiteness had been stained heavily with bright red blood. It would never again go back to being pure white. And somehow, Lucy was glad of it.
--
Lucy stared at the wall. She felt empty, as if she had been a glass of water that someone had poured out. There seemed to be no use in doing anything. There wasn't even any use in getting out of bed. The door to her bedroom opened, but she didn't bother turning around.
"I brought you something to eat," Tish said.
"Go away," Lucy replied, not moving.
"You've got to eat something," Tish argued.
Lucy didn't respond. The last three trays that Tish had brought had been ignored, just like this one would be. Lucy wasn't hungry. She didn't think she'd ever be hungry again.
Tish sighed, and put the new tray next to the old one.
"There's no good in you starving yourself, you know," she said.
"What's the point in eating?" Lucy replied. "Besides, I'm not hungry."
"I know you don't feel like it, but you've got to eat."
Tish sat down on the edge of Lucy's bed, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"I can't imagine what you're going through, but…"
Lucy jerked around.
"No, you can't!" she snapped. "My baby's dead. My baby's dead, and I have nothing to live for, nothing to hope for. All I had was Ellie and even she's been taken away from me. I don't have any reason to keep going!"
Tears spilled down Lucy's face, and she began to shake from the force of her sobs. Tish put a comforting arm around her shoulders, and let her cry.
"You have to get up and eat something, Lucy," she said gently. "Jack's been frantic about you."
Lucy looked up at the mention of Jack.
"He knows?"
Tish nodded.
"He was asking after you every five minutes. Wanted to know why you hadn't come to see him in a few days. So I had to tell him. He's been so scared for you. I could see it in his eyes. He said I had to get you to go to him, so he could see for himself that you were all right. Will you go see him?"
Jack had been worried about her. Jack wanted to her to come. Somehow, that made want to get out of bed. It was first stirrings she had felt in three days, the first desire to do anything beyond lie in the bed and pray that sleep would carry away her troubles for a few more hours.
Jack wanted her there with him. Jack was thinking about her.
It felt good to once again have a motivation for waking up. There was something to live for, even if it was only to see Jack one more time.
Without really thinking about what she was doing, she ate the toast that Tish had forced into her hands.
Jack. She would hold on for Jack.
--
"Lucy! Thank God you're here!" Jack said, the moment she walked into the room. "I've been so worried about you."
"I'm sorry I didn't come," Lucy said.
Jack gave her a reassuring smile.
"Tish told me what happened. Are you alright?"
Lucy gave a watery chuckle.
"Do I seem alright?" she asked.
"No," Jack's face was stormy.
"Well, I'm not," Lucy said honestly.
"I wish I could hold you. Come here."
Obediently, Lucy slipped into Jack's embrace, wrapping her arms around him. Jack laid his head against her hair and sighed.
"I'm so, so sorry, Lucy. I wish you'd told me that you were pregnant, though."
Lucy shook her head.
"I couldn't, Jack. I was… I was too ashamed."
"Ashamed?"
"That the father of my baby was a monster, and that I had been too blind to see it."
"You couldn't help that," Jack argued. "This isn't our fault, Lucy. I just wish I had known."
He was tying to keep the hurt out of his voice, and not succeeding very well.
"I only just found out," Lucy said, pulling away from him so that she could see his face. "I didn't even have time to tell Harry before… before he found out."
"Found out?" Jack said. "He knows?"
Lucy nodded.
"He knows. Knew. He knew."
"And he isn't trying to comfort you? From what Tish tells me, they found you in his office. I mean, it's his child. Doesn't he care?"
"He said it wasn't the right time," Lucy said, looking anywhere but Jack's face.
There was a long pause.
"He did this to you, didn't he?" Jack asked. His voice was quiet, controlled, but Lucy could hear the fury behind it. "Tell me what happened," he commanded.
Lucy's voice shook as she began to tell him.
"He said it wasn't the right time. He said that I hadn't been careful. He pointed the laser screwdriver at me, and…" she couldn't continue.
"He killed the baby, didn't he?" Jack asked.
Lucy nodded, looking down at her feet. It felt so horrible and so shameful to admit it out loud.
With a cry of pure rage, Jack strained against the chains that bound him to the wall. Lucy thought that surely they would give way to his raw anger and grief, but they held firm.
"I'm going to kill him!!" Jack yelled. "For killing your baby! For nearly killing you! I'm going to kill him!"
"Jack, please stop," pleaded Lucy. "You're going to dislocate your arms! Please, Jack, you're scaring me."
Jack subsided, looking warn out with his effort.
"I'm so, so sorry," he said, sagging against the chains.
"There was nothing you could do," Lucy said with a sigh.
"I know. That's why I'm sorry."
Lucy sunk down at the base of one of the pillars that Jack's arm was chained to. She drew her arms around her knees, and leaned her head on them.
"How do you go on, Jack?" she asked. "How do you go on when it seems like there's nothing left to live for?"
"There's always something to live for," Jack said gently.
Lucy shook her head.
"I wanted that baby so much. And now… there's nothing. I want to die, Jack."
"Lucy, look at me. Please," Jack's voice was gentle, but there was a commanding presence to it. Lucy looked up. "You don't want to die."
"Don't tell me what I want or don't want!" Lucy snapped. "I'm sick of people telling me what to do!"
"You don't want to die," Jack said firmly. "I know that already. I've died before, and I can tell you that it's not a release from anything. There's nothing there on the other side. Just… nothing. You don't want to go there."
"There's nothing for me here, either," Lucy replied. "Besides, it's different for you. You come back every time. You never fully die."
"But I know what it feels like. Blankness; nothing; no hope."
"What hope is there in life?" Lucy asked, staring down at the cement floor.
"Where there's life, there's always hope," replied Jack firmly. "If you're still alive, there's the hope of getting free of the Master. If you let yourself die, he's won."
Lucy felt the anger and despair swell within her.
"I hate him," she said with venom.
"Me too," answered Jack. "The Doctor would say to give him another chance, but…" Jack's laugh was bitter and without humour. "But I'm not the Doctor."
"I never used to hate him, even when he was harsh and cruel," Lucy said, almost to herself. "I was drawn to his power, his dynamic personality. Everyone was. It was like he had some hypnotic power over me, to make me do even things I didn't want to do."
Jack nodded grimly.
"But now," Lucy continued. "Now I see through all that. I see what he really is. After what he's done to me – to you – I can't help but hate him."
"It's ok, Lucy. You just can't let that hate consume you. You can't give in to despair."
"Why not?" Lucy asked, resting her cheek on her knees in a gesture of surrender. "Why can't I give into despair? I went to the end of the universe, Jack. To the end of time and space itself. And there was nothing. There was nothing there in the end. Why bother continuing now when it all comes to that in the end?"
Jack was silent for a long moment.
"I was there too," he said quietly. "I was there at the end of the universe. And you know what I saw? Hope. I saw the human race, at the end of everything, still clinging on against all odds, still surviving and living in the hope of Utopia."
"There was no Utopia," Lucy whispered. "Not for them, not for us."
"But that never stopped them from hoping, did it? If they could hold on at the end of the universe, when everything was dying, then so can we."
Lucy looked up into Jack's soot-streaked face; into his bright blue eyes sparkling in the gloom.
"Do you promise me you'll hold on, Lucy?" he asked.
"Hold on to what?" Lucy asked.
"To the hope that we can get out of here. To the hope that Martha Jones will be just as fantastic as the Doctor's other companions. To the hope that beyond the Master and beyond the destruction, somehow there is life."
--
Lucy still in her bed, in almost exactly the same position she had been in a few days ago when Tish had gone to talk to her. This time, however, it wasn't despair and anguish that she was thinking about. Quite the opposite, actually. She was thinking about Jack's words.
Was he right? Was there always hope? He was right about one thing, though. Martha was still out there. And as long as Martha was still out there, there was still a chance that she would find a way to defeat Harry.
The fierce ache in Lucy's heart didn't go away, but it lessened somewhat. The wound left by Ellie's death might never heal fully, but Jack's words had helped a little.
Lucy sat up in the bed with a sigh. What did having hope look like, anyways? She didn't think she'd ever had hope before in her entire life. Or if she had, it was so far remote in her childhood that she didn't recognize it.
Before her mind's eye floated an image of Jack- exhausted, soot-streaked, a cut bleeding sluggishly above his eyebrow. And yet, he was grinning. Jack was right: there was only nothing when she gave up. Hope, Lucy realized, looked like Jack – chained up and still finding something to smile about. If Jack could have such hope while chained to a wall in the engine room, she could too.
Something caught Lucy's eye, making her turn. It was the glass chess queen, gleaming dully in the lamp light from its position on her beside table. Lucy picked it up, and turned it over in her hands.
"No," she said suddenly. "I never want to be a pawn again."
With all the strength she possessed, Lucy hurled the chess queen at the wall. For a moment, it seemed suspended, hanging in the air. Then, it made contact with the wall. There was the tinkling of broken glass, and the queen smashed into a thousand glittering pieces.
Author's Note: I was going to post this chapter yesterday, and then my friend got a kitten. Needless to say, I was very distracted. Freya the Asguard kitten is pretty much the cutest little ball of gray fluff in the whole universe. I was so busy playing with her that I didn't post my chapter. So, blame it on Freya that this chapter is late.
I've been saving the 'hope' conversation almost since I first started writing this story. It was one of the first conversations that I imagined, and finding a place for it has been hard. Needless to say, I'm glad it fit in so well here.
I know I made Francine a little harsh, but I think that's her character. She's not a forgiving person, and after what Lucy has done (or perceived to have done), she's not going to be very kind, is she? But she came through in the end.