Master/Lucy Saxon - blah, blah, blah, I don't own Dr. Who etc.

She must have been insane to love him.

Harold Saxon, the Prime Minister of Great Britain – who would have thought Lucy would ever reach such dizzy heights?

He made her feel special. Showered her with gifts and compliments. He kissed her passionately in public, where he beat her violently behind closed doors. The shimmering surface of glamorous parties and events, the intense lovemaking that drove her wild with lust – these things compensated for the pain he put her through.

He could be good, sometimes. Occasionally she would perceive a glimmer of affection or happiness behind the charade of his dark, tortured eyes.

But his voice; his hypnotic, perfect voice, that was what baited her in, when she really thought about it. Lying awake at night hugging herself to him, listening to him saying things no man had ever said to her before; beautiful, helpful, wonderful Lucy, perfectly in time with his binary heartbeat.

He flirted with them; the assistants, the secretaries; she couldn't forget the way he'd looked at that girl, Leticia Jones, like she was a slice of meat, something to be devoured. "Stand there and look gorgeous …" The emphasis and resonance on the final word filled Lucy with invidious rage and envy. Because it was the way he'd started to speak to her. Oh, to begin with she really believed he loved her; not because she was a pretty blonde, but because she cared about him and felt like she was helping him, helping him heal the madness and insanity of his mind. But she ended up becoming more and more like him herself.

The endless interviews; just an hour to myself. That was all she wanted, time to mull over the way things were, the trap she'd found herself in, the way her worst features had been fuelled and emphasised until they'd overpowered the last of her human strength and compassion. The journalist told her she was in great danger. As if Lucy hadn't realised that already.

She saw him be vicious, cruel even, but she still loved him. His faithful companion, she couldn't help it. He mesmerised her as he mesmerised the world. He took her to the end of the universe and showed her the stars, where the whole of creation was falling apart, the last of humanity screaming in the dark and she realised that there was no point to anything anymore, except him.

She would do anything for him. Lure innocent people to their deaths – the journalist who tried so very hard to save her life. She said she was sorry, but she lied. It was worth the sacrifice, to stay closer to him. Listening to her screams, Lucy was scared. Not because the morbidity frightened her but because she might have taken him away from her.

But he made her cold - cold but so dependent. There were some bruises make up could hide, but the irrevocable damage to Lucy's soul was plain for the world to see. What had she come to? Watching the one person she loved beat up an old man, torment a broken family, bring about the end of the world …

She must have been insane to love him. Because that was what he drove her; insane. What a paradox.