InsaneJournal

After seeing the chaos taking place over the message board, Lucy had decided to check on Harry. She had considered just texting him but honestly wasn't sure she could sit around waiting to find out if he was still himself. Not when she knew he was just across the hall and she could have her answer in the amount of time it took to walk over there and let herself in. Which is precisely what she did, quietly entering his flat and glancing warily around as she shut the door behind her. Her footsteps were equally silent, leading her finally into the living room and, more importantly, to Harry.

Only, something was wrong. Lucy didn't know what but something was off. The way he held himself wasn't quite right. His self-inspection in the mirror, too, just didn't seem as it should be. Warily, Lucy stepped a bit further into the room just as he asked his softly-spoken question, although it was little more than a murmur where she was standing. She cleared her throat lightly and stopped moving forward. Her hand went to her throat, worry shining in her wide blue eyes.

"Harry?"

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Although she'd somehow known the man she was speaking to wasn't the same man she'd married, Lucy had held out the hope that she was wrong. That hope was dashed the moment his gaze met hers, though, and all but obliterated when the man that wore her Harry's face finally spoke. Blinking, not quite sure what to say to an apology of all things, Lucy simply stood there in shock for a few long seconds.

When she spoke, her voice was calm. Detached. It was easier that way. She couldn't allow her emotions to best her right now. She needed to think clearly, figure out what was going on, then... well, Lucy wasn't sure what she'd do next, but learning who this man was seemed a good start.

"It isn't your fault," she said simply, moving a few steps closer. He looked, physically, the same. But his eyes. There was something about his eyes that were just plain wrong. Lucy sucked in a sharp breath, her brow furrowing ever so slightly and question coming out in a whisper.

"What's happened to you?"

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She tensed at the expression of annoyance that filled his face as he stared into the mirror. She could just make out his reflection and felt her stomach tighten at the look, her eyes wide and body trembling ever so slightly when he turned back to face her. For a brief instant she'd been certain the annoyance was aimed at her, expected an angry tirade to follow with violence to accompany it. Yet when he met her gaze once more his expression had changed. And when he spoke, his voice was lacking any of the bite she'd grown used to when he was frustrated with something and taking it out on her.

"Died?" she echoed in confusion. "But you..." Pausing, Lucy forced herself to stop talking and to think. Clearly, the man wasn't her husband. But to hear him talk, he wasn't even the Master. It didn't make sense, not even in the slightest, and yet from what she'd seen on the message boards nothing made sense to a great many right now. Most of them, in fact, seemed to be acting as though they'd only just arrived when she knew that they'd been here since she had, at the very least.

"What's your name?"

Three simple words, hesitantly asked as the pieces began to click into place in her mind. If he had no memory of being here before, no memory of her at all, finding out who he thought he was seemed the logical first step. Quite likely followed, she decided, with contacting the Doctor for help depending on how this veritable stranger introduced himself.

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Koschei. Before arriving here, Lucy had never known that name. Before coming to this strange little city that no one seemed to have heard of before, Lucy would have never recognized the significance of hearing it spoken now. She still couldn't grasp it fully, couldn't imagine anything that would make any version of her Harry use it. However it did give her something to go on and all but cemented that the Doctor really did need to be contacted. He was quite possibly the only one who might be able to sort through any of this.

Yet Lucy was reluctant to give up her alone time with this man. She was also hesitant to suggest bringing anyone else into the equation until she was on firmer footing. So she simply continued to stand there, expression a carefully neutral one as she did her best to gage the situation.

"Lucy," she answered him without pause. "Lucy Saxon. I'm..." She hesitated, not sure if she should tell him who she was. Struggling with a way to finish the sentence without being too obvious she was keeping something from him, she said simply, "close, with another version of you. He hasn't used that name for a very long time."

She took a step closer, wary in her movements but too anxious to stand perfectly still. Idly she considered dropping into the nearest seat but wanted to be ready to flee just in case it proved necessary. Opening her mouth, she started to speak then stopped herself, finally spitting them out in a quick breath.

"I think... perhaps we should contact the Doctor."

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Lucy had seen the hint of a smile - barely there and even then only if you really were looking - and relaxed slightly. She still couldn't get a real feel for this man as of yet but she knew the faintest stirrings of something akin to happiness after it had been lacking for a long time, and easily recognized it upon his face. She took another step closer, almost close enough that she could reach out and place a hand on his shoulder. Then his expression faltered and changed, his tone turning into something else she recognized.

Fear. No dramatics, no screaming and yelling, no anger. Just plain, simple fear that was so very understated and yet so very real that Lucy could all but taste it. She hesitated, both in her steps and in a reply. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly as she tried to understand what he was saying. The Doctor had done those things? But that was surely impossible, wasn't it?

"He wouldn't-" She stopped, not wanting to sound like she was calling him a liar. Re-wording what she was going to say, Lucy tried again. "The version of the Doctor that's here wouldn't do that." She said it with absolute certainty, only realizing belatedly that she hadn't bothered to check that the Doctor was still the Doctor she'd come to know the past week or so. It was entirely possible the current version would do exactly what Koschei feared.

"We don't have to tell him, if you'd rather we didn't," she offered after a second of thought. She studied him for a heartbeat before asking rather abruptly, "Would you care for some tea? I believe I'll make some."

It was a bit ridiculous of a thing to do, given the circumstances, but Lucy needed something else to focus on. Something to do that didn't involve just standing there. Maybe if she kept her hands busy, her mind would think up a solution to this mess. Not that anything was going to do, for her, until Harry was back to how he was meant to be. But she didn't see any reason to be rude until that time came.

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She had just reached the doorway when his words stopped her. Hesitating between the living room and kitchen, Lucy turned back to look at him. Her expression was unreadable, save for her eyes. They were filled with wariness yet clear concern as well. Taking a step back into the room, she swallowed and gave a nod of her head.

Reaching for her PDA, preparing to send a text message to the Doctor, she paused at Koschei's question. Her gaze darted back up to his. "There are two here," she answered softly. "The tenth and the eleventh. The eleventh incarnation is the one I'm going to try to locate." Her attention flickered back down to her PDA before she paused once more, this time of her own accord. There were certain things that she didn't know, when it came to regeneration. If there were limits to the injuries they could regenerate from. If there was any way to stop a regeneration before it began. And, perhaps the most curious of all, just how many regenerations a Time Lord had to go through before reaching the end.

There were reasons she didn't know these things, of course. Harry had only recently begun sharing anything of such a nature with her - and even then the information was sporadic and typically more personal in nature besides - and the Doctor didn't want to risk giving her information she could later use to try and kill Harry. It made sense, from his perspective, but Lucy was still curious and now saw a perfect opportunity to learn things she might not otherwise.

She'd be a fool not to take it.

"How many are there?" she asked, putting her PDA back in her pocket for the time being. "What number is the limit, for regenerations?" And how? Why? What happened if you just continued to kill someone after each regeneration? Was that cheating or was it an effective way to assassinate a Time Lord permanently? She didn't ask any of the other questions, obviously, but they certainly flickered through her mind and refused to be fully ignored.

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Twelve regenerations. Counting the original life, thirteen in total. Lucy wasn't sure if the Doctor's Eleventh incarnation counted as the eleventh regeneration or eleventh in total and found that she hoped it was the latter rather than the former. The thought of him only having one more left didn't sit well with her. Of course, she also had no idea what number Harry was on either. She assumed the one he was in now wasn't his last, particularly as she had very vague memories of hearing the Doctor all but begging him to regenerate after she'd shot him. At the time she hadn't particularly cared and had blocked most of the conversations taking place around her out, simply for her own sanity's sake. Now, though, she wished she'd paid a bit closer attention.

She shook her head at his question. "No..." she answered, her gaze falling briefly to the floor before she forced herself to look at him. "Harry doesn't like to talk about it." She gave a faint shrug of her shoulders as if to say 'so that's that'. Which, to Lucy's mind, it was. She might at times hate her husband but his word was, as far as she was concerned, law. And although she understood that this version wasn't the same as the man she knew and both feared and loved equally, Lucy found some small part of her passing that same fear-induced respect to him. Just in case.

With the slightest touch of hesitation, she added quietly, sincerely, "If you'd rather not talk about it either, I'll make sure not to ask anything else."

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The first dredges of guilt began churning away in Lucy's gut at his statement. She hadn't lied - she was close with his other self - but she also knew he wasn't thinking of it along the same lines as she'd meant. Which was intentional on her part, really, and that was most likely the source of her guilt. Regardless of why she felt that way, though, the fact was that Lucy felt bad for deliberately misleading him into giving her information.

She decided, as he met her gaze with a quiet, contemplative look, that she was going to explain a bit better. If he still wanted to offer information then, that was fine. Brilliant, in fact. But he at least deserved to know that, while she was one of Harry's most loyal supporters in most everything he did, she also was the one who had shot him and could very easily do so again.

However before she could say anything, Koschei spoke again. His final statement, one that Lucy agreed with wholeheartedly, was enough to make her eyes mist over. A bitter-sweet snort of laughter escaped her lips before she could stop herself. "Perhaps someone should alert him to that fact," she said, realizing a second too late that she'd actually spoken the sentiment out loud. Instantly her mouth clamped shut, a wary expression settling upon her features. It was easier, she'd found over the past few years, to shut down in anticipation of punishment for speaking out of turn than to waste her time apologizing to deaf ears. Although she did still whisper an apology, only after reminding herself that this wasn't her Harry.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, swallowing hard as she forced herself to meet his gaze again. "I... haven't been completely honest with you. Harry and I are close. We're married, in fact. However our relationship isn't exactly..." Healthy. Positive. In any way good for either of them, truth be told.

"Typical."

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She tensed when he approached her. She didn't back away, didn't flee, knew better than to do either, but she certainly stiffened a bit. However the hands he placed on her shoulders weren't meant to hurt and the touch was gentle enough that she got the unspoken message. It was baffling, to be sure, but Lucy fully understood in that moment that she really was not dealing with a version of her husband that was anything close to what she was used to. Which was both a relief, as well as heartbreaking, and she honestly wasn't sure which emotion to give into first. If either. For the time being, she ignored her own reaction and instead focused on what he was saying.

It wasn't easy to imagine. She'd been told more than enough times that Harry certainly didn't need her around in any real sense of the word. Yes, the signals were mixed, as now that he truly didn't need her family's connections in order to further his own agenda, he really should have simply cast her aside yet clearly hadn't done so. However mixed signals didn't tell her anything that she dared to guess at and so she simply took his word as law and ignored the rest. Which meant that she really wasn't needed but more there simply because he wished it, for whatever reason, and it was in her best interest to just accept that fact and not question it.

His palm was warm against her cheek and caused longing for such tenderness from the man she loved. Since in Colligo, she'd received it. Harry had actually done very well at not lashing out at her and instead treating her with the same gentleness as he had when they'd first met. But Lucy knew it wouldn't last. Nothing ever truly lasted anyway, and what had been a rather pleasant point in her marriage was no exception. She still longed for it, though, and had to stop herself from leaning a bit into his touch in search of something that this version of the man really couldn't provide.

Her lips parted, a soft breath escaping them. She stared up into his face, her blue eyes alight with curiosity and her forehead creased in concentration. "You don't hear them..." she whispered, scarcely able to believe the thought much less put it into proper words. She did her best, though, wonder slowly replacing the curiosity shining in her eyes as she thought she might have finally figured out the one major difference between this man and the one she'd sworn to love, honour, and obey for life.

"The drums. Do you hear them?" she asked. Part of her was almost afraid of the answer, although she wasn't at all sure why.

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Oh. So he did hear them, then. He just seemed to have some way to ignore them that either Harry lacked, or simply hadn't bothered with. Or it was something else entirely, that she wasn't aware of having happened and probably never would be. Really, the possibilities were endless and far to many for her to consider.

But still. It was difficult to accept whether she was willing to dwell on it or not. The knowledge that somewhere, some how, there was a version of her husband who hadn't given into the insanity. A version of him who, while clearly broken in his own way, wasn't nearly as volatile. A version Lucy was willing to bet that also wasn't interested in the death and destruction the way her Harry tended to be.

Both better in some ways, and worse in others, and not at all the man she'd married. As nice as he was, Lucy couldn't help but wish that her version was back. She didn't wish any ill will toward this one but she also knew he wasn't the man she loved. Yet she also knew she couldn't, wouldn't, pull away or spurn him. She'd stay as close as he needed her to be, help him as best she could, because... well, frankly, Lucy wasn't sure what else to do.

"Oh," was all she said out loud in reply to his admission. It was clear from that single word that she didn't understand how it was possible, but she wasn't going to ask. He wouldn't know the answer anyway and, if she ever saw Harry again, she knew he'd never bother to explain. It was simply something she would have to live with, one of many unknowns that she'd been introduced to since meeting the Time Lord.

"Harry doesn't." Or possibly couldn't. Lucy wasn't sure on that one, really. With a slight shake of her head, barely perceivable even if someone was watching her closely, she dispelled the thought and let her mind switch gears.

"Would you like some tea?" she repeated, having asked the question earlier before getting sidetracked. Once more she felt the urge to do something familiar, and tea seemed the best answer.

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