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Season three, episode thirteen:
The Last of the Time Lords - Part one.
- ~ -
It had been like this for months.
For agonising months, they had been doing this.
It was torturous, constantly having to hide, bound to the shadows so often it was almost as if they were fading into them. The Toclafane were like hounds, always searching, always hunting for the next person with fresh hot blood pumping in their veins, all too ready to spill it.
It made Lynnette sick.
For the first few weeks, a month even, the echoes of bodies littered the streets. Swirling whispering of ash that still cried out in fear, the permanence of the death searing death they received burnt into them. One moment the world was screaming, shrieking in its terror. And the next, it might as well have been silence.
Occasionally, they saw someone. Most with gleaming eyes filled with tears, cheeks burnt with them, cuts and bruises and dirt upon their skin and all the fright in the universe. The fear was paralysing, like a poison that seeped into the body, consuming the bones and chaining the heart.
And the grief.
Oh, the grief.
When the night came and the darkness came to shield all of her terrorised children, there was nothing to distract people from the grief tumbling against their shoulders. And in the night, people clutched themselves and the people around them as they cried, hearts wailing for all of the people dead, for the peace that was snatched from them, for the lives that would never be fixed.
Not even Lynnette and Martha were immune.
Under the cover of darkness, Lynnette would hold Martha as her shoulders tremored tears staining her shirt. And Martha would hold her just as tightly because even though her heart was consumed with mourning for her imprisoned family, she was all too aware of the tears falling onto her head.
And when the sun came, burning the skies, they began again.
Trudging through barren streets, darting behind corners to avoid the ravenous Toclafane, one mission firm in their minds and undestroyable in their hearts.
Lynnette had sworn it.
Martha had sworn it.
The Master would pay dearly for his monstrosity.
And the two women would be the hands that brought down the skull-crushing hammer of justice upon his head. Lynnette would make sure it hurt. She would ensure agony coursed through the Master's body and that his wife would watch it all, punishment for her complicity in his crimes.
