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Chapter Text

She smiled, shook hands with strangers, greeted old colleagues and introduced herself to people she'd never met. She laughed at bad jokes and tried not to think of mass homicide. The level of bubbles in her glass remained constant as others rose and fell, leaving her head clear and her tongue sharp wrapped in silk. She was eight years sober and wasn't going to change that now, no matter the emotional turmoil she was masking behind a forced laugh and a red lipped smile.

She was also watching, her eyes flickering quickly over guests, wary as she dummed down fission and fusion and experimental space engineering for a slew of financiers who imagined themselves experts but couldn't see beyond the price tag and the stock market opportunities. It wouldn't do to call them out though, her research was in a precarious place and if laughing and the terrible flirting kept her funding intact she would smile and flirt back, hiding her insults in honeyed words.

All the while she was watching, waiting. It was ridiculous really, she shouldn't be nervous. She had every right to be at the party and if she saw him, well, they would just have to be adults and preferably not hurt each other too much. He was probably steadfastly avoiding her as expertly as she was watching out for him.

A child ran past, knocking into legs and calling a hurried apology over her shoulder as she carried on. The little blonde and pink blur hurtled straight into the arms of her father, the chief administrator of Torchwood Tech. Little Rose Tyler hadn't even been a whisper in her parents eyes when she'd left the company. A pretty pink blanket had been commissioned from America to the UK when Rose had been born, she'd always thought of the Tyler family as amusing colleagues after all.

Tens year ago she'd left. Ten years she had been working for the competition at Trenzalore Space in America. She'd built herself a formidable reputation, cold, classy and slightly unhinged. It served her well when keeping people away. Of course there were some who'd never left, despite her best efforts. Baby Stewart was the reason she was standing back on English soil, in a purple dress and pretending to sip champagne from a tall glass.

She heard another child laugh, turning automatically, ignoring the echo in her heart at another laugh, another child crying out 'mama' and giggling furiously. Everyone else thought her heart was cold, made of stone. It was just extremely protected.

And there he was, throwing little Rose Tyler in the air to her delight, depositing her carefully on the ground, reaching over to shake Pete's hand and pressing a careful kiss to Jackie's cheek (he was still scared of her, bless). He smiled, made a joke, laughed. He positively beamed at the woman made of curves and curls who appeared beside him, handing him a flute of orange juice and joking with the Tyler patriarch. Baby Stewart had told her about his marriage some five or six years past to an archaeologist. Grave robber with a fancier title. He tucked an arm around her waist, eyes she knew would be soft, eyes she could picture. She watched from the shadows eyes tracing the silver threading through his temples, smiling at the bushy eyebrows threatening to overtake his face. She watched him smile, laugh, love. He was happy.

He was happy.

His face lit up as he heard something behind him, dropping down with arms outstretched, falling back slightly as a little blue and brown blur appeared in his arms. He hoisted her up, spinning her round, holding her steady for the wife to greet.

His child.

She couldn't keep watching. It hurt her in places she didn't know could still hurt, places she thought she'd cut off entirely years before.

Instead she smiled, flirted, mingled. All the while she wondered why she hadn't stayed away, why she'd agreed to Baby Stewart's pleading to return for a stay. She'd came because she promised Baby Stewart. She never promised she'd talk to him.

She saw Baby Stewart holding court in the centre of the room, her newly minted finance right next to her looking a little shellshocked (she'd never met him before tonight but she already knew her clever little Katie deserved more than him. One of the few things she and Man-Stewart agreed upon).

She checked her watch, having staid an hour longer than the agreed amount of time promised to Baby Stewart, pushing through the crowd for a final round of congratulations, hugs and reiterating promises for dinner then next evening before leaving. It was time to sneak out and away from the falseness and back into the safety of numbers and theories and explosives.

She was just squeezing between two groups of people, teeth gritted to avoid digging red talons into suited flesh, so focused on not causing a scene for Katie, when she looked up. She looked up into incredibly familiar startled eyes.

"Missy," he breathed. It took energy to focus on breathing normally.

"John," she greeted softly, squeezing a half smile from blood red lips.

They stood watching each other for a long moment of audible seconds.

"What are you doing here?" He asked evenutally, eyes wide, eyebrows pulled together. He looked unsettled.

"Baby Stewart asked me to," Missy shrugged nonchalantly, feeling anything but nonchalant. It was a finely worn armour. "She asked me to come. .. here..."

She faded off, her world rapidly narrowing to his burning eyes, brimming withe hurt and barely restrained anger. He hadn't known she would be here.

"She didn't tell you," Missy realised aloud. He jerked his head in acknowledgement. "I came because our goddaughter asked me to be at her engagement party. I'm not here to cause a scene or even to talk to you. In fact, I was hoping to duck out before you ever saw me."

John glanced over his shoulder. Missy followed his gaze, her eyes finding John's brilliant wife stood not too far away, watching them carefully.

"I'm not here to cause a scene," Missy reminded him. He turned back, not quite bringing himself to look at her. That hurt more. He couldn't even look at her. Whoever said time healed all wounds had clearly never been hurt or betrayed. "Your family is beautiful John, truly." She cursed at how her voice almost broke, knowing that the only person who could have possibly heard the crack was standing right in front of her.

He raised his eyes to her face, eyes searching, probing for any sense of a lie.

"I'm so glad you're happy John," Missy said quietly, earnestly, "I'm so glad. You deserve to be happy."

Before he could formulate a response, Missy employed one of his more irritating traits, and escaped the situation. She'd find Kate, and then she'd go.

She may be glad that John found happiness, that one of them at least had some semblance of a life. But just because she was happy for him didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell to see.

\\\\\\\\ten years later -UNIT/////////

Missy finished the equation on her whiteboard with a flourish, observing the accumulation of days worth of work trying to establish where her dwarf star inspired energy source prototype had failed. Not only had she found and solved the problem, she was fairly certain she had improved the efficency of the reactor core by 8%. Overall success. And that was why she was chief of engineering at UNIT. She was the Queen of all, the queen of Evil some called her. She liked that one, it kept the idiots at bay.

A soft cough interrupted Missy's silent celebration of a job very well done. She turned around, head first body following. Baby Stewart she expected. The wide-eyed doll like teenager hiding behind a heavy fringe however she did not.

"Baby Stewart! " Missy greeted, throwing down her pens. "Have you bought me a pretty snack?"

Kate rolled her eyes.

"You'll scare the work experience Doctor Saxon, " Kate chided half heartedly. "This is Miss Oswald. "

"Impossible," Missy declared, "I've not got any snacks in till Friday. It's not Friday."

"It is Friday Missy," Kate replied with an amused smile, taking in the ordered chaos of the windowless office that suggested Missy had been down there for days rather than the hours she imagined. "You only have her to terrorise for one day, it's the last day of her placement. Don't scare her off too badly."

"I'm insulted," Missy muttered, pushing some books from the desk to the floor with a clatter. "Come on in then you with the big eyes."

Miss Oswald glanced up at Kate before creeping into the room properly. Honestly she wasn't that bad was she?

"Missy I need her back in the lobby by 1645 so I can get all her school paperwork signed before she leaves, you'll have to bring her," Kate instructed raising her eyebrow at Missy.

"Alright," Missy said in her best approximation of Kate's preteen son. Kate glared at her.

"Enjoy your day Miss Oswald. Remember Doctor Saxon's bark is far worse than her bite," Kate smirked, and left.

"There's a biting innuendo in there that I can't use on her," Missy huffed, "what a wasted opportunity. So, you, girl, Ozzie. First name or I'll keep calling you Ozzie."

"It's Oswin," the bite size said, "why do you call Doctor Stewart baby?"

"I knew her when she was a baby and I can't ever let her forget that," Missy pushed herself up suddenly. "So, physics or engineering? I get bitesized for both if I'm honest. Also poetry but really that's practically the same thing."

"I hate physics," Oswin shrugged, "but I like puzzles so I guess engineering?"

"You guess?" Who was this kid and why we're they in her office.

"Dad's an engineer and he pulled some strings so I could see the different departments that practically use science. I guess he hasn't quite admitted to himself yet that I'm more like my grandmother. I like books. But I promised I'd give this a try. So, um, yeah."

"Tell you a secret, " Missy stage whispered, gesturing to the mess of a room. " I like books too, when I can find the damn things. Come on, I'll do a tour and then we can do some puzzles. I've spent the last week in numberland so i can do with a break."

Oswin smiled. Missy gestured wildly to her office.

"This is the Vault," she declared dramatically, "this is where all the fun happens. They hide me down here to hide the total raging genius so everyone else feels better about their mediocre intelligence. Do you want to see some of my projects?"

Oswin grinned, and Missy was hit by a sense that she knew that smile, that she'd seen it before . She dismissed it. It was probably he fourth coffee taking. Missy observed the girl, she was tiny with big eyes and apparently a truckload of confidence that would take her far.

"Well then," Missy gestured dramatically, " let's go!"

Later, after trying and failing to explain the prototype she was working on, Oswin was leafing though some books and reorganising them on one of Missy's desk. She was struck again with the thought that she knew this little girl.

"You look awfully familiar," Missy said suddenly, startling Oswin. "Have we met before?"

"No," Oswin said quickly, too quickly. Smart the girl may be, a liar she was not. "Trust me, we haven't met." That was the truth at least. Missy nodded slowly, deciding it was of less importance and deciding instead to move on.

"Alright then, you may not like physics but how do you feel about puzzles?"

At the end of the day, Missy escorted Oswin up to the lobby rather than getting her scatter brained assistant to do it for her. She was hoping to talk to Kate after the girl had left and honestly the kid wasn't that bad, even if she was a bit too goody goody for Missy's taste.

"My mum died," the girl said suddenly, hovering outside the door to the lobby, her eyes bigger than they had been all day. "It's just been me and dad for years now."

Missy paused, her key card hovering next to the swipe.
"What's that got to days have your work experience or me?" She asked quite frankly. She was tired now, and wanted a bath and bed. "I mean, sorry to hear that and all that but really..."

"Kate's been great," Oswin continued, wringing her hands now. "But it's not the same. She's like a big sister to me and like and cousin or some thing to dad and it's just... hard for him..."

"Again, failing to see the relevance," Missy swiped her card, pushing against the door.

"Please don't think too badly of me," Oswin pleaded, before she scurried through the door ahead of missy.
Missy shook her head in bewilderment before following. She had barely entered the room when she heard a painfully familiar voice.

"Clara! Where the hell have you been?!"

Clara. Clara Oswin. Oh, that's why she looked familiar. Missy turned, seeing Clara swallow in the face of a formidable pair of eyebrows wearing a man in a red velvet jacket, Kate a few anxious steps behind.

He hadn't seen her yet.

"You skip school, turn off your phone, disappear and then I get a call from Kate at lunch telling me you're here and I should probably pick you up at 5. What the hell Clara?"

Ah, baby Stewart was in on this too? What a surprise.

"Calm down Doctor Dramatic, let the girl explain, because I am curious as well," Missy interjected, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows at the teenager. John saw her for the first time, his eyebrows escaping into his mad scientist hairstyle.

"Was this your idea?" He exploded in her direction. Missy rolled her eyes.

"Oh yes, it's all some dastardly plan," she said deadpan. "I didn't know she was your brat. She told me her daddy organised it and she didn't want to break his heart by telling him she wanted to do something with books not numbers."

Clara went red.

"Oh that last bit was true apparently," Missy added, catching the flush. "Honestly I'm as eagar to hear the truth as you are dear."

She stared him down until he nodded and they turned back to Clara expectantly.

"I wanted to meet her," Clara confesses. "God dad you've been so lonely since mum died and Kate told me about how close you two were once, and I just... dad you need friends!"

"This is a set up," Missy clarified for the doctor. "Apparently Kate is in on it too."

"Yes I got that thanks," he replied shortly, glowering. He looked like he was trying to be a volcano. It was adorable.

"Dad has a drawer full of pictures I'm not allowed to see," Clara said quietly. "So I broke into it and took a photo and asked Kate who it was. You're both crazy, both scientists and once upon a time you were crazy close. I just wanted to try and help."

"Nice sentiment, way off base though," Missy snorted, turning to leave. Clara caught her arm.

"Why can't you be friends? " She pleaded.

"Did you never think to ask why your father and I aren't friends anymore? " Missy asked.

"Missy," John warned.

"Your father and I weren't just friends, we were everything except married which was highly scandalous back in those older days," Missy said a bite to her words. "We had a little girl. She died. He ran. I left. We haven't spoken since so it's a little bigger than just a tiff between friends dear. You should have done your homework. You both should have done your homework. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to leave. Now."

She left. Left Clara's big startled eyes. Left Kate's look of shock, left John pressing his eyes together and pain in the lines of his mouth. She left before someone could see her cry.

Chapter Text

She slammed her hand down hard against the errant piece that didn't fit into her latest prototype, cursing loudly when the action did nothing but make her hand hurt. Well, might as well add it to the list, she thought wryly, giving the poor machinery a break and standing up. She'd arrived home on Friday night and locked herself in her sparse, impersonal room until Saturday. She hadn't left her flat, knowing that there was no alcohol or anything she could use to numb the pain. She wasn't going back there, wasn't going to let one incident send her spiralling. Eighteen years sober and what she wouldn't give for a drink right about now.

Her flat was overly clean, having spent the day scrubbing and clearing and mopping and moving. Her flat hadn't been this clean since it was built. She'd migrated from cleaning to building when it became evident her hands couldn't keep still, but even that was too delicate for her tastes. She wanted to destroy something, hear the shatter of something other than her carefully constructed life. She scuffed her foot against the laminate floor, enjoying the sound.

Suddenly, an idea sprang into her mind, fully formed and ready to be implemented. Missy scooped her frizzy mess of hair up onto the top of her head, rolled up her sleeves and began to move all her furniture to the sides of the room, out of the way. Then she dug around, found her marker pens and drew a large target on the far wall, colouring it in rapidly with imperfect strokes. She had just piled up her crockery when the doorbell rang, shattering her concentration. She frowned at the door, wondering if it was Kate, come to apologise. Maybe even Alistair or Sarah, come to see how she was holding up, pretending not to be relieved when they found her upright and coherent. The doorbell rang again.

"Alright, I'm coming," Missy muttered, unlocking the door and flinging it open, "What?" she demanded, the rest of whatever insult had flashed across her mind disappearing as she saw who it was on her doorstep. "Oh."

"Hi," John said, shuffling his feet, hair looking crazier than it had on Friday as if he'd run his hands through it a million times. Knowing John as she did, he probably had spent an hour doing just that. He wasn't looking at her directly, glancing back down the evenly spaced row of doors. Probably planning an exit route.

"I wasn't expecting you," Missy admitted, leaning against the door, feeling self-conscious even though he couldn't even bring himself to look at her. He hadn't looked at her since the accident. Not properly. "Who..."

"Alistair," He replied quickly, "I told him about what happened on Friday and he um...gave me your address. I wasn't sure if it was a good idea."

"Nor me," Missy said quietly. "How's Clara doing?"

He shuffled again, one hand rising to run through his hair. "She's worried you'll hate her for dragging up the past," he confessed, lips quirking into a strange half-smile. "Kate is far more worried. You might want to give her a call, let her know you're um... not dead."

Missy nodded, looking away. "Maybe in a few days," she muttered, "I'm angry at her right now."

"She didn't know," John reminded her, "She was so young when ..."

"Yeah..." Missy finished for him, neither of them would be able to say the name. "Why are you here John?"

He shuffled, smiled, looked down like a teenager, before revealing the Tesco carrier back he held behind his back. "Thought we should probably talk," he said. "Properly talk, especially now."

Missy eyed the bag warily, "John, I'm..."

"T-Total," he supplied, fishing into the bag and drawing out a bag of jelly babies. "Me too."

Her eyes flickered up of their own accord and found that he was looking at her, actually looking at her. It felt strange and familiar all at once and she wanted nothing more than to slam the door on him and leave it at that.

"Is this a good idea?" She whispered. He shrugged.

"We haven't spoken in twenty years," He said frankly, "We honestly can't do worse."

Missy considered this for a moment, thinking of all she had lost the last time, of days missing and finding solace in the bottom of a glass of gin. Perhaps the next step was moving forward, rather than sideways. Missy nodded slowly, moving aside. John waited until she jerked her head. She wasn't sure she trusted herself to speak right now. He entered her flat and she realised how cold and impersonal it must seem to a man who values having tangible reminders of him memories close to hand and all over the bloody place. He was frowning at her far wall.

"Anger management," Missy offered in explanation, shutting the door behind him and moving towards her poky open kitchen for a bowl. "Give me the damned sweets then."

"Please," he muttered automatically, before wincing, handing the bag over. "Sorry, habit from having a ...er..."

"Teenage daughter?" Missy supplied, "It's ok you know, you can say those words. Child. Daughter. Clara. I won't break."

"I might," he muttered, examining the piles of crockery lined up on the island. "So, you were going to throw these against the wall?"

"Preferable to breaking someone's neck, yes," Missy replied absently, pouring them both a glass of orange juice. He picked up a side plate, turning it over in his hands. "Go on," Missy prompted, indicating the wall, "It's surprisingly therapeutic actually."

He glanced at her, standing a foot shorter than him with the island between them and an even bigger gulf he didn't know how to breach.

"Proposition," he declared, glancing at the piles. "We break one of these as we talk about personal things. Try and ease the tension."

Missy snorted. "You honestly think that'll work?"

"Well it'll stop you from breaking my neck," He countered, a smile twisting his face and looking strange with the severity of his eyebrows. "I'll start. Her name was Susan. She was three. She had her mothers eyes and she was so, so, bright."

Missy swallowed heavily, putting her glass down and leaning against the counter. She knew that they would talk about it when she'd let him in, but Suzie had been her weight, her secret, her everything for so long it felt horrible feeling her name said by another person. John watched her carefully, swallowing himself.

"She died in an accident, a car accident. It broke my heart," He continued, "But I hadn't lost the woman I loved, and I couldn't help but be grateful I hadn't lost them both. Until I realised that my Missy never came out of the hospital, never left the grave."

He looked down at the plate in his hand, raised it in a salute and turned to the wall, throwing it hard against the paint. Missy flinched at the sound. He turned to her expectantly.

"Her favourite food was pears and you hated them so much," Missy said quietly, voice broken in ways she didn't know it could break. "And she loved to sing the alphabet in the wrong order, just so she could put it back together at the end." Missy picked up a side plate, fingers tracing the print. "We were singing it in the car, I was driving. I couldn't save her."

Missy hurled the plate across the room, eyes leaking. "I couldn't save her. It's my fault she died. And you knew it too."

"What?" John moved forward, into Missy's personal space, stopping short of gripping her shoulders. "Why would you ever say that? Why would you ever think that?"

"I was driving," Missy spat, "And you couldn't even look at me when I came round. You just stood at the end of my bed, told me she hadn't made it and you couldn't even look at me."

He gaped at her. "What?" He forced out, "That's what you thought that was? Missy I didn't want you to see me crying. I was trying to be supportive."

"You didn't stay for the Doctor, John," Missy took a deep breath, stepping back. "You just left after telling me and..."

"I thought you wanted me to leave," He said softly, eyebrows pulled together. "I thought you couldn't bear to see me. You're always so strong Missy and I didn't know how to help. How to help either of us."

"I was pregnant," She stated frankly, a sneer twisting her lips, "I didn't even know until the Doctor came to talk to me. You should have been there for that but you weren't and I didn't want you to think I killed two children."

"You didn't kill Susan," John insisted, ignoring Missy's flinch. "Susan, her name was Susan Saxon-Smith. Alliteration you called her sometimes, when you were laughing at her. Most kids, their parents called them sweetie, or pet, or baby, you called ours alliteration. You did not kill her Missy. The driver who ran a red light into a sedan with a woman and her child, he killed her. Nearly killed you too."

"I think maybe he did," Missy admitted, "And all you could see when you looked at me was her."

John turned, picked up a plate and threw it full force against the wall. Missy tilted her chin up.

"All I could see when I looked at you," he thundered, eyes blazing, "Was that the woman I loved had closed herself off and I couldn't help her because she wouldn't let me."

"We'd sit in silence, such a silence, John, and you'd play your guitar and offer me work like it was supposed to fix everything," she shot back, picking up a mug and hurling it.

"As opposed to the bottom of a bottle of wine?" He snapped at her, remorse filling his eyes instantly. "I'm sorry that was-"

"The truth?" Missy filled in bitterly. "Your common law wife turned into an alcoholic."

"I thought there was hope, after how drunk you got on her fourth birthday," he admitted quietly, turning away and sinking down onto the arm of the sofa, examining his long fingers. "You got so drunk then a few days later you started flushing everything down the sink and I guess I thought you'd decided to come back to me..."

"Alistair came round with Katie," Missy supplied for him, "And I was dead drunk and Katie asked me when I sobered up why I didn't love her anymore. I may not have had my baby, but I Katie made me realise I needed to change, quickly."

He nodded thoughtfully, glancing up at her to see her shoulders slumped, gently tracing the pattern on the mug under her hands. She set it against the counter gently.

"I was so relieved. I thought you were coming back," He chuckled softly to himself, at the naivety of his past self. "But you were so distant and I didn't know how to get you to see me."

"You didn't see me," Missy shrugged. "I had changed John. I wasn't the fresh faced excitable scientist at Torchwood who argued with you. And you... you looked at me with those big sad eyes and I just... I couldn't be her anymore. And the more I realised that, the more I realised you'd been pulling away too. You kept your distance, always booked trips you didn't need to go on. You'd disappeared for a whole week once I was attending AA and... I guessed you didn't want to have to kick me out, to tell me it was over."

"So you jumped first?" He finished sardonically. "You want to know our biggest problem Missy?"

"Psychopathic tendencies?" She replied deadpan. He smiled, shook his head.

"Miscommunication," he announced, "And an unhealthy amount of pride. We should have talked. Maybe then we'd have been able to support each other, rather than bottling her up and hiding her away..."

Missy snorted, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Did River know?" She asked suddenly, "About Susan..."

John sighed, examining his hands once more. "Yes," he admitted, "When she came to me and told me she was pregnant with Clara I...didn't react well.... I loved her and once I came back off the bender I knew that Suze would have loved being a big sister. I had to explain to River about Susan so she'd forgive me for running away. She understood, said that if I never wanted to talk about Susan again, then she wouldn't make me. Clara didn't find out until Friday though. That's why I didn't come Friday night. I was explaining everything to Clara."

Missy nodded, still looking at the mug.

"So," she half-drawled, lacking her usual punch. "We've talked, it's still awkward, it still hurts. What next?"

"It's always going to hurt," John shrugged, "We just have to learn to talk about her, maybe then it'll get easier. And, in case you hadn't worked it out and I need to state it again, I do not, have never, thought you killed our daughter, and I have always, always, just been waiting for you to come back to me..."

Missy looked up, to him, to his eyes, earnest eyes.

"You're my best friend Missy," he shrugged an admittance. "You understand me on a level no-ne else ever has. And it hurt when you came in and announced you'd accepted a job on the other side of the world. I thought, how much she must hate me, to put so much distance between us. Then you left."

"And you never came after me," Missy added.

"Didn't think you wanted me to," He admitted.

"Nor did I," Missy whispered.

They sat in a tense silence for a few seconds, both trying to work out what they could possibly say.

"I missed you," John finally confessed. "I still miss you. I think... maybe that's where Kate and Clara got it into their heads. I've always kept a track of you, Alistair didn't approve but he always told me how you were. And of course, your career, I followed that very closely. Good job with the thermo-heating solution by the way, I know that was a few years ago but, you did a great job on that. River knew too."

Missy crossed her arms across her chest, leaning back against the counter.

"I missed you too," She whispered. "It was... harder... than I thought it would be, seeing you at Katie's engagement do."

He nodded, "Hey did you know then what a colossal twat her husband was going to be? Because I didn't much like him but I thought it was just because I didn't want someone marrying my goddaughter..."

"Oh, no, I hated I'm from the get-go and told Katie that," Missy snorted, "Slimy git. Katie is far too clever for an idiot like him, but then, we're all fools in love."

He nodded sagely.

"Do you think we can be friends again?" he asked suddenly. Missy looked at him, a little startled.

"You want to be friends again?" She asked incredulously. "After everything we've been through... can we be friends?"

"We could draw a line, never forget it, but also promise to talk," He suggested. "It's been twenty years."

"I'd like that," She admitted, "But I'm not sure it'll be that easy."

"Since when have we ever taken the easy path?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow and a lip. "Everyone told us we had to get married before having a baby. They said that you should stop work. They said Susan wouldn't be a happy baby if she didn't have a parent with her. We proved all of them wrong. So, Missy, I think we can prove them wrong again, when they say that losing a child and effectively a divorce have to stop you being friends. What do you say?"

He stood up, stepped forward, and held his arms out slightly like he couldn't decide if he was offering a handshake or a hug. Missy thought of all the projects she'd had to scrap because she only had half the expertise needed. Of all the stupid people she surrounded herself with and how hard it was to feel truly accepted.

"I built weapons for the American government," she blurted out, "After ... after her death. I wanted to cause other people pain so I built weapons that were used in wars and I don't feel guilty for doing so."

"Okay," he said, shrugging, "If you want me to say I accept that about you then fine, I accept it. I don't care."

Was it worth it? Could they do it? Missy wasn't sure.

"How about this," He offered, catching her hesitation, "We get one of these anger management things set up, and we try to talk about our problems before they end up with you flying to another country to build weapons and space stations for the bloody Americans."

She chuckled, admitting to herself that she had missed him, she had missed his quirks and his temper and how they were evenly matched in a world that barely even came up to standard.

"Lets see what trouble we can get into," She grinned, stepping forward and offering him her hand. Within seconds, she had her arms tightly around his chest, his around her shoulders, hugging the life out of each other.

It wasn't all going to be ok, it wasn't all going to be plain sailing. God knew they'd been through hell and back. They were different people now, they'd been changed by love and loss and anger and pain. They'd had twenty years of being angry with each other and it wasn't going to be fine in a heartbeat. It would take work, but perhaps this was where they would always end up. In each others arms.

"I wasn't joking when I said Clara wants to work with books by the way," Missy mumbled into his sweater. "Am I allowed to get involved in that? Because I've got a friend at the British Library who's looking for a summer intern in their exhibition and I think she'd much prefer that to whatever engineering summer plans you have."