Title: How Lucy Saxon Saved the Day (much to Martha Jones' disgust)
Story Summary: Lucy Saxon saves the world on a shopping trip to Harrods, in sexy red heels. Harry would be proud. Takes place at some point after series 3.
How Lucy Saxon Saved the Day (much to Martha Jones' disgust)
It all started, really, after Lucy had convinced the psychiatric nurse to let her go shopping.
Anyone else, after helping a psychopathic genius alien assassinate the American president and conquer the world from the sky, would have been locked away in a high-security prison, or at the very least in a padded cell on a lot of soothing medication. Lucy, though, was the daughter (and these days, the sister) of a viscount, and so even though the world was supposed to be all about equality and things now (honestly, who were they kidding? Everyone else only looked the same when you were looking from the top) Lucy had ended up under house arrest, with a psychiatric nurse who bothered her a bit and tried to convince her to take pills every night, which Lucy spat down the sink or hid in the pot plants.
(She was going to have to take them outside 'for a bit of sun' soon, or the woman was going to notice the collection of white circles stuffed into the soil. For pills that were supposed to keep you feeling calm and happy, her plants looked rather sick. But then, the plants weren't human.)
Lucy got bored of house arrest after a while. Harry might have been happy to sit around watching Cbeebies all day, but Lucy had never understood why he found British children's television programmes so enthralling. Still, Harry was never bored for very long, so Lucy asked herself a question.
What Would Harry Do?
Well, watch bad television for a start, so that was out. What else? Torment people, Lucy decided, Harry would definitely torment people. If he were under house arrest he'd be creeping around setting traps for the nurse or doing things to make her life miserable, with that malicious childish glee that came so easily to him.
Lucy didn't really enjoy things like that, though. Not silly childish pranks. She thought it was adorable when Harry did it, of course, but it wasn't her.
Harry, she decided, would have found a way to get out of the house for any reason, and once he was out there concocted a plan to make it permanent.
That might work.
So Lucy thought about what might be a reasonable excuse to get out of the house for a while, and how to convince the nurse to let her.
What Would Harry Do?
"It's awfully boring, in here, every day," Lucy said in distant tones one day. "There's only so much one can do before everything seems stale. I almost wonder what the point is, sometimes."
She tilted her head and extended one ankle, looking at the slightly shabby heels she was wearing. Red ones today, in honour of Harry. Harry always liked it when she wore red, and he had always had a thing about high-heeled shoes. He'd once said something about women voluntarily wearing torture devices on their feet in order to increase their attractiveness. She hadn't really paid much attention.
A side glance from under her lashes showed that the nurse was frowning.
"I used to be known for wearing the best clothes every season," Lucy said pensively. "The best-dressed woman in our circles. Now all I have is a collection of well-worn, slightly-shabby outfits that aren't quite in anymore. All my old acquaintances would pity me. Well, pretend to. But really they'd feel smug about me being insane and in last-season clothes."
Lucy gave a sigh, and didn't look up.
"Things aren't that bad," the nurse said kindly. Lucy looked up at her, blue eyes meeting the grey ones guilelessly.
Lucy blinked, and tried to remember what Harry had taught her on the Valiant about hypnotising people. She'd asked him about it once, and he'd smirked and told her that humans were naturally weak-minded, and as long as you were sufficiently strong-willed about it you could get most humans to do almost anything. He'd taught her how to do it and had her practice on the guards, but Lucy had never been entirely sure whether she had actually managed it or whether the guards were just going along with it to avoid arousing Harry's temper.
"Do let me go shopping," she said softly, but staring with as much focus and will as she could muster.
The nurse hesitated, and went to move away, but Lucy's eyes opened slightly wider and the nurse stopped.
"Let me go out," Lucy said, not as softly this time, and the nurse nodded slowly.
"I'm sure it wouldn't do any harm to let you do a little shopping," she agreed unsurely.
Lucy gave a placid smile.
"It would cheer me up a little," she agreed.
Ten minutes later she left the house, a happy, serene smile on her face.
Lucy went to Harrods. She'd work on a plan as she went, of course, but in the meantime, she would go shopping. She hadn't really been lying to the nurse. Her motives just hadn't matched up with her words. The best lies were the ones that were true.
Ages ago Harry had fixed her up a bank account with a program attached to it that periodically skimmed tiny amounts of money off several hundred other accounts, and dumped it all in Lucy's. She hadn't really needed the money, of course, but Harry held to the principle that you might as well take corruption to the limits. It was useful now, because she could afford decadently expensive clothing and still have lots of money left to spend.
Lucy bought several bags worth of delicate designer clothing that would show off her graceful features and figure. She bought some attractive lingerie as well, because if you were going to go to the trouble of dressing well you shouldn't stop at the last minute, metaphorically speaking.
She was trying on a pair of wickedly sexy red heels with straps cut into a lace-like pattern, classy but that bit naughty, when there was a scream.
As people fled in fear Lucy turned around in curiosity to see what had them all upset. She had to skip back in dancing, tiny mincing steps as the creature rampaged through the department store.
It was kind of like a cross between a tiger and a rhinoceros, if such a thing could exist. There was blood dripping from its jaws, which Lucy took as evidence enough that it wasn't friendly.
Lucy ducked behind a shoe display, and peered cautiously around it.
The alien was standing there, sniffing angrily. As Lucy watched, its head turned towards her.
Its eyes were intelligent, and Lucy knew that staying very still wasn't going to work.
Lucy dashed forward, hearing the thud of its feet behind her. She'd never really considered the dynamics of running in heels before, but when you had a large angry alien behind you it was surprisingly easy to run, if painful for your feet. The trick was to run fast so that you didn't falter.
In Lucy's ballet classes they'd always said she had excellent balance. She'd only ever used it for dancing before.
Think, she told herself. What Would Harry Do?
There was some kind of futuristic bottle opener nearby. Lucy changed the direction of her run a little, so that she could snatch it off the shelf as she went past.
She ran in an arc until she was in a more open area, then turned quickly to face the approaching thing.
She stood ready, eyes trained on it, bottle-opener in one hand. Her hair had become slightly dishevelled, and one piece had come loose and hung down in front of her face.
As the alien roared close, Lucy ran forwards, and swung her hand in a vicious underarm motion. It was fast and straight and unavoidable, and the wicked corkscrew-point plunged through the creature's eye and beyond.
There was a disgusting spurt of blood, and Lucy leapt out of the way as the creature went down.
She stood there, watching it, letting her heart rate slow down to normal. So this was why Harry did it, she thought. This was why he killed people. He was right. It could be fun, if it was exciting enough.
After no more than a couple of minutes there was the sound of booted even footsteps, and a group of soldiers turned up. They wore red berets. Lucy knew who they were.
They stopped at the sight of Lucy, in her elegant bloodstained clothes and hair falling out of its twist, standing gazing calmly at them in the sexy red heels.
A moment later a familiar black woman with excellent facial structure strode forward.
Lucy looked at her limpidly.
Martha Jones gave her a disgusted glance. There was a tiny bit of respect in it though.
"It would be you," she said. "We turn up to check reports of a homicidal alien in Harrods, and who do we find? Lucy Saxon."
"I asked myself, what would Harry do?" Lucy asked absently.
Ah, and there was the total disgust again.
"What, and you think he'd've stabbed it through the eye? Bit low-tech for him, isn't it?"
"I didn't have anything else," Lucy explained, unruffled, "And Harry liked sharp pointy things, especially if they were stabbing people."
She surveyed the dead alien.
"Do you like my shoes?" Lucy asked Martha vaguely.
Martha glanced down.
"I think they're feminine torture devices for feet," she said bluntly.
"Thank you," Lucy said softly, pleased.
Martha raised one shapely eyebrow at that.
"You're seriously disturbed, you know that?"
Lucy nodded seriously.
"If you don't mind, I'm going to collect my shopping, and get these shoes," she told Martha. "Well, maybe not these shoes. There's blood on them."
Martha just watched as Lucy wandered back to the shoe department, totally unfazed by the day's events.
"Bloody hell, that woman is mental."
Lucy just smiled to herself as she collected her things.
She thought that Harry would have been proud.