Lucy's After EoT Canon Point AU
I wasn't happy with Lucy's end in End of Time, so I wrote up my own ideas as to what may have happened to her, and more importantly how she survived.
Left Outside Alone
Lucy's death was practically instant.
Her head had cracked open as the impact of the explosion had thrown her to the ground, her eardrums bursting simultaneously, and she'd only been able to scream for a fraction of a second before she'd been ripped apart. She hadn't felt any pain. None that she'd had time to register anyway.
But then she'd woken up.
Afterwards Lucy would wonder at why nobody had thought of a stronger word than 'pain'. What she'd felt was so very far beyond 'pain' she couldn't find a word for it. 'Agony' was nowhere near the mark either…
What she'd felt was so intense, so all consuming, so horrific that she forgot who and where she was. She couldn't remember how to breathe, let alone how to scream, and her body… was that her body?… What was once her body flailed so violently and with such desperation it was like it was trying to throw the overpowering sensation off of itself. Everything was hot and cold and pink and green and bitter and sickly and altogether completely unbearable.
Finally lips opened and a mouth gasped, gulping in air, and what was once Lucy sat up screaming. She looked down as she screamed and saw her body piecing itself together, bit by bit. Bones and tissue and blood and nerves and muscle and skin all knitting together and forming limbs and digits.
The freshly grown arm she used to prop herself up gave way and she collapsed, thankfully falling unconscious.
Lucy stood naked amidst the chaos and destruction for hours, numbly trying to gather her thoughts and make some sort of sense out of what had happened. The dust and smoke had finally cleared, the last of the flames had flickered out of their own accord, and she was left to ask the silence why she was still alive.
Then Lucy saw something poking out from under a cracked piece of concrete, something that chilled her beyond what the winter air could, but something that she somehow knew might answer her question.
She willed herself to go closer, and cautiously she moved the slab aside. Lucy immediately stepped back in horror. She had to struggle to keep herself standing as a severed hand and forearm rolled out from under the slab.
It wasn't just any arm, either... it was her arm.
Once she'd taken a few moments to get over the initial shock she saw something that she quickly registered to be significant. The arm was lying in a small pool of blue liquid.
Everything suddenly made sense to her. The Master's servants had taken Harry's bio-metric imprint from her lips and used it in the potions, but they couldn't have taken it without taking some of Lucy along as well. During the explosion her severed arm must have collided with the potion and on contact started to ressurrect her a split second after she'd died. The Master hadn't managed to drain all of the life force from his servants before the explosion, and whatever was left had been fed into Lucy, bringing her back to life and restoring her body...
... but wait... How had she worked that out? Lucy was the first to admit that she'd never been intelligent, not in that way. She wasn't the airhead she'd led people to believe, and as far as manipulating others went she was a genius, but academically she was quite useless. So how on earth had she managed to come to such a logical conclusion so quickly?
"Our life forces combined in the potion," she realised aloud. Her ressurrection had been contaminated with a little piece of her husband, and presumably he'd been contaminated with
Lucy found a concrete shed in what remained of the grounds of Broadfell and slipped inside to keep warm whilst she tried to decide what to do next. Inside she found some boiler suits belonging to the grounds keepers and gratefully put one on, it was too large for her by far, but she found some rope to tie it at the waist and rolled the sleeves up so she could use her hands freely. She certainly wouldn't be winning any fashion shows any time soon, but it was certainly better than nothing at all.
Lucy sat on an upturned crate and tried to plan what her next move would be. She knew that above all she had to keep her head down and try not to be noticed, if UNIT found out she'd survived they'd haul her straight back into custody and she had no desire to be back in one of thier tiny, bare cells. She'd been held there for a few months before being sent to Broadfell so they could assess how dangerous she was, the experience had caused her to try and attempt suicide on more than one occassion.
Yes. She definitely needed to keep herself hidden.
She'd need money, too - and she'd have to find it herself. Her father had disowned her and would no doubt hand her over to UNIT himself if he saw her. Having a treacherous murderer for a daughter was not good for a man's reputation, apparently.
Lucy didn't even have any ID - her passport and birth certificate had been filed away in the prison and were now no more than ashes.
Her stomach growled noisely, all she could conentrate on was how hungry and tired she was. She decided she should head back into the city and figure out the rest when she was there.
So, bare footed and shivering, the former wife of the Prime Minister of Great Britain trudged across the industrial wasteland, the loneliest person alive in London on that cold Christmas day.
It was hours before Lucy began to be able to make out the bright lights of the city, and the wasteland started to give way to industrial estates.
Things were quiet, unnervingly so, and Lucy was oddly eager to get into the hustle and bustle of central London.
That was when Lucy saw him, he was lurking by the garden gate of a house across the street, the orange lamplight casting an eerie glow around him and illuminating his features. His hair was the wrong colour, platinum blonde, practically white, but there was no mistaking the cruel glint of those eyes, and the set of that mouth upturned into an arrogant smirk.
Lucy froze. Her blood ran cold. Her heart rate sped up.
Her husband, for that's of course who it was, tilted his head curiously to one side as she met his gaze, then a wide grin spread across his features.
That was all the warning Lucy needed, she snapped out of her petrified state and ran.
She pelted down the street as fast as she could, turning into an alleyway joining this road to the next. She tore down the darkened passage like hell itself was at her heels, which in many ways it was.
Lucy noticed the absence of any sound but her own footfalls and hard breaths, and she dared stop and look around at the end of the alleyway to see if she was being followed.
That was when a pair of arms grabbed her tightly and a hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her startled scream.
Lucy screamed and struggled, every instinct in her body telling her she needed to get away, but the arms around her were too strong.
“Well, if it isn’t my little Lucy lost,” the Master’s voice purred in her ear. She could feel his hot, rancid breath on her face and she struggled even harder to get away, but his arms merely encased her more tightly.
“Oh my Lucy, how I’ve missed you,” he sighed, burying his nose in her hair and breathing deeply. She shuddered, feeling her blood run cold. He took away the hand he’d had over her mouth to stroke the back of his forefinger down her neck, his actions almost tender.
“Get off of me!” Lucy spat.
“My companion…”he murmured, ignoring her, lost in some sort of daze as he began to play with a lock of her hair.
“You caught her.”
Lucy twisted in the Master’s grip to see where the second voice had come from, and what she saw caused her to stop struggling.
There were two of him.
Two Master’s, identical in absolutely every detail besides the clothes they were wearing.
“….how…?” she froze in confused horror. “How are there two of you…?”
“Oh Lucy,” the newer of the two smirked, “There are so many more than two of us. Try over six billion of us.”
“What?” she murmured.
“Everyone in the world, the entire human race, now they’re all me,” the second Master said with a grin. The first Master, the one holding Lucy, began to laugh. He kissed her neck and then chuckled in her ear.
“My, my, my, Lucy, you are going to be a busy girl, aren’t you?”
Left Outside Alone
Lucy's death was practically instant.
Her head had cracked open as the impact of the explosion had thrown her to the ground, her eardrums bursting simultaneously, and she'd only been able to scream for a fraction of a second before she'd been ripped apart. She hadn't felt any pain. None that she'd had time to register anyway.
But then she'd woken up.
Afterwards Lucy would wonder at why nobody had thought of a stronger word than 'pain'. What she'd felt was so very far beyond 'pain' she couldn't find a word for it. 'Agony' was nowhere near the mark either…
What she'd felt was so intense, so all consuming, so horrific that she forgot who and where she was. She couldn't remember how to breathe, let alone how to scream, and her body… was that her body?… What was once her body flailed so violently and with such desperation it was like it was trying to throw the overpowering sensation off of itself. Everything was hot and cold and pink and green and bitter and sickly and altogether completely unbearable.
Finally lips opened and a mouth gasped, gulping in air, and what was once Lucy sat up screaming. She looked down as she screamed and saw her body piecing itself together, bit by bit. Bones and tissue and blood and nerves and muscle and skin all knitting together and forming limbs and digits.
The freshly grown arm she used to prop herself up gave way and she collapsed, thankfully falling unconscious.
Lucy stood naked amidst the chaos and destruction for hours, numbly trying to gather her thoughts and make some sort of sense out of what had happened. The dust and smoke had finally cleared, the last of the flames had flickered out of their own accord, and she was left to ask the silence why she was still alive.
Then Lucy saw something poking out from under a cracked piece of concrete, something that chilled her beyond what the winter air could, but something that she somehow knew might answer her question.
She willed herself to go closer, and cautiously she moved the slab aside. Lucy immediately stepped back in horror. She had to struggle to keep herself standing as a severed hand and forearm rolled out from under the slab.
It wasn't just any arm, either... it was her arm.
Once she'd taken a few moments to get over the initial shock she saw something that she quickly registered to be significant. The arm was lying in a small pool of blue liquid.
Everything suddenly made sense to her. The Master's servants had taken Harry's bio-metric imprint from her lips and used it in the potions, but they couldn't have taken it without taking some of Lucy along as well. During the explosion her severed arm must have collided with the potion and on contact started to ressurrect her a split second after she'd died. The Master hadn't managed to drain all of the life force from his servants before the explosion, and whatever was left had been fed into Lucy, bringing her back to life and restoring her body...
... but wait... How had she worked that out? Lucy was the first to admit that she'd never been intelligent, not in that way. She wasn't the airhead she'd led people to believe, and as far as manipulating others went she was a genius, but academically she was quite useless. So how on earth had she managed to come to such a logical conclusion so quickly?
"Our life forces combined in the potion," she realised aloud. Her ressurrection had been contaminated with a little piece of her husband, and presumably he'd been contaminated with
Lucy found a concrete shed in what remained of the grounds of Broadfell and slipped inside to keep warm whilst she tried to decide what to do next. Inside she found some boiler suits belonging to the grounds keepers and gratefully put one on, it was too large for her by far, but she found some rope to tie it at the waist and rolled the sleeves up so she could use her hands freely. She certainly wouldn't be winning any fashion shows any time soon, but it was certainly better than nothing at all.
Lucy sat on an upturned crate and tried to plan what her next move would be. She knew that above all she had to keep her head down and try not to be noticed, if UNIT found out she'd survived they'd haul her straight back into custody and she had no desire to be back in one of thier tiny, bare cells. She'd been held there for a few months before being sent to Broadfell so they could assess how dangerous she was, the experience had caused her to try and attempt suicide on more than one occassion.
Yes. She definitely needed to keep herself hidden.
She'd need money, too - and she'd have to find it herself. Her father had disowned her and would no doubt hand her over to UNIT himself if he saw her. Having a treacherous murderer for a daughter was not good for a man's reputation, apparently.
Lucy didn't even have any ID - her passport and birth certificate had been filed away in the prison and were now no more than ashes.
Her stomach growled noisely, all she could conentrate on was how hungry and tired she was. She decided she should head back into the city and figure out the rest when she was there.
So, bare footed and shivering, the former wife of the Prime Minister of Great Britain trudged across the industrial wasteland, the loneliest person alive in London on that cold Christmas day.
It was hours before Lucy began to be able to make out the bright lights of the city, and the wasteland started to give way to industrial estates.
Things were quiet, unnervingly so, and Lucy was oddly eager to get into the hustle and bustle of central London.
That was when Lucy saw him, he was lurking by the garden gate of a house across the street, the orange lamplight casting an eerie glow around him and illuminating his features. His hair was the wrong colour, platinum blonde, practically white, but there was no mistaking the cruel glint of those eyes, and the set of that mouth upturned into an arrogant smirk.
Lucy froze. Her blood ran cold. Her heart rate sped up.
Her husband, for that's of course who it was, tilted his head curiously to one side as she met his gaze, then a wide grin spread across his features.
That was all the warning Lucy needed, she snapped out of her petrified state and ran.
She pelted down the street as fast as she could, turning into an alleyway joining this road to the next. She tore down the darkened passage like hell itself was at her heels, which in many ways it was.
Lucy noticed the absence of any sound but her own footfalls and hard breaths, and she dared stop and look around at the end of the alleyway to see if she was being followed.
That was when a pair of arms grabbed her tightly and a hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her startled scream.
Lucy screamed and struggled, every instinct in her body telling her she needed to get away, but the arms around her were too strong.
“Well, if it isn’t my little Lucy lost,” the Master’s voice purred in her ear. She could feel his hot, rancid breath on her face and she struggled even harder to get away, but his arms merely encased her more tightly.
“Oh my Lucy, how I’ve missed you,” he sighed, burying his nose in her hair and breathing deeply. She shuddered, feeling her blood run cold. He took away the hand he’d had over her mouth to stroke the back of his forefinger down her neck, his actions almost tender.
“Get off of me!” Lucy spat.
“My companion…”he murmured, ignoring her, lost in some sort of daze as he began to play with a lock of her hair.
“You caught her.”
Lucy twisted in the Master’s grip to see where the second voice had come from, and what she saw caused her to stop struggling.
There were two of him.
Two Master’s, identical in absolutely every detail besides the clothes they were wearing.
“….how…?” she froze in confused horror. “How are there two of you…?”
“Oh Lucy,” the newer of the two smirked, “There are so many more than two of us. Try over six billion of us.”
“What?” she murmured.
“Everyone in the world, the entire human race, now they’re all me,” the second Master said with a grin. The first Master, the one holding Lucy, began to laugh. He kissed her neck and then chuckled in her ear.
“My, my, my, Lucy, you are going to be a busy girl, aren’t you?”