InsaneJournal

WHO: Lucy Saxon and some Toclafane; open to the Master
WHAT: A temper tantrum, Toclafane-style.
WHEN: Early evening; around 7PM
WHERE: Lucy and the Master's flat
RATING: PG-13 (to be safe)
STATUS: Complete; narrative (two separate narratives if the Master replies)
WARNING(S): Non-descriptive mentions of violence; bloodshed; character death

It had been a few days since the news of the Doctor's death and yet Lucy still found it all but impossible to accept the news. Yes, she had seen Reinette return to the flat early that morning, covered in the Time Lord's blood. Yes, she'd next seen the woman's post on the network. Yes, she'd listened in horror from the bedroom as the Toclafane announced to their beloved Mister Master what they'd done. Yes, she'd even received the Doctor's personal message to her indicating that he most certainly was gone.

She still didn't want to believe it.

Of course, as terrible as Lucy found the news to be, she knew her pain was nothing compared to what her husband was feeling. Truth be told, she had been doing her best to stay out of his way since it had happened. She was there for him, not daring to hide or leave or ignore him when he spoke to her. However she'd given him wide berth and done her best not to bother him with things he would find inane... such as her own feelings toward the situation. In fact, unless he approached her, Lucy did her best to not be seen or heard in any capacity.

Which, she supposed, is probably the exact reason she currently had no clue where he even was. She knew he had left the flat a short time earlier but, if he'd mentioned where he was going - which she was fairly certain he hadn't - she didn't remember what he'd said. Fortunately though he hadn't been gone for too terribly long so she wasn't worried. A bit concerned, of course, but who wouldn't be given the situation? In fact, the main reason she wasn't flat-out panicking was because she knew the odds of the Toclafane turning on him were slim to non-existent. She also knew that she was relatively safe as well but that knowledge was hardly enough to make her leave the flat.

As it turned out, she couldn't be any further from the truth in that last regard.

The first sign she was wrong was the sudden appearance of three Toclafane. They popped in while she was in her bedroom, flying around her head in complex patterns that probably meant something that Lucy didn't understand, and carrying with them a general air of excitement that instantly put her on edge. She'd been sitting at the vanity when they showed up and instantly went still, watching them warily in the mirror while slowly setting her hairbrush back down. "He isn't here," she finally spoke hesitantly as she slowly rose to her feet and turned to look at them. "Is there something you need?"

"We want to play!" One of the orbs responded. The giggle that followed was enough to make Lucy's blood run cold. The next comment, a very giddy "We want to play with the pretty lady!" made her heart skip a beat and her gaze slide past them, to the door.

She was almost one hundred percent sure that Harry hadn't left in his TARDIS. It was still in the living room, posing as their fireplace, and the one place he had assured her would be safe should the Toclafane turn on them. Unfortunately, the living room was a fairly large distance from the bedroom when you were being chased by spheres that could fly faster than you could run and who could also create their own means of going from one place to another instantly. However she also knew she had to try because even as she came up with an answer to their question, Lucy instinctively knew they weren't going to just leave her be.

"No, thank you," she answered politely, inching her way around them in a large circle. Now her back was to the door, her attention on the Toclafane. She took a step backward, then another, and finally another, before adding in a surprisingly calm tone, "You know you aren't supposed to play with me."

"We want to play with the pretty lady!" another of the Toclafane insisted, the tone becoming a bit too shrill for Lucy's liking. It rather reminded her of her nieces and nephews when they were gearing up for a fit. She took a few more steps backward, finally reaching the doorway. Shaking her head, she tried one more time to make them listen in the vain hope it might at least slow them down.

"No," she stated firmly. "I'm not going to-"

Her words were cut off as one surged forward in the blink of an eye, blades swirling. With a shriek, Lucy threw her arms up to protect her face. She felt a deep slice across her forearm and, biting back a cry of pain, used the momentum of jerking away from the attack to spin on her heel and run as fast as she could toward the living room. She kept her injured arm tucked against her chest, ignoring the feel of the blood soaking the front of her blouse and focusing on little more than the TARDIS that she hoped against hope was still nestled into the fireplace.

Hearing the telltale sound of the Toclafane following, their giggling frightening her far more than their rather obvious intentions at the moment, Lucy increased her pace. Any second she expected to be shot in the back. Any second she expected them to appear in front of her to stop her flight. It wasn't until she had reached the living room and was skirting around the sofa, with the fireplace nearly within reach, that she realized why they hadn't done either of those things.

They were toying with her.

Any doubt she had toward whether or not that's what they were doing was put to rest when, no less than five steps from the TARDIS, Lucy felt a sharp pain shoot through her back and realized, distantly, that the chase had come to an end with no effort whatsoever on their part. Staring down in shock at the blade protruding from her chest, then peering slowly back up at the splatters of blood that covered what should be the front door of Harry's beloved ship, she knew she'd never really stood a chance. Her knees buckled, the blood that filled her mouth preventing her from crying out in agony as she collapsed to the ground in a heap.

Reaching outward, toward the fireplace, Lucy felt the smooth front of the TARDIS' front door. Her hand, covered in blood, merely slid against the smooth surface while leaving a dark crimson streak behind. The subsequent stabs that came - she stopped counting at eight - weren't really necessary. Lucy knew that the first strike had hit its mark and felt her now irrevocably damaged heart slowing down with every beat. A few seconds later the Toclafane stopped stabbing and disappeared while giggling maniacally. Lucy, meanwhile, laid on the ground, unable to do anything else, and allowed death to claim her.

Within moments, that's precisely what it did.