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Missy really had thought she was going to die. She had never intended to die being shot by a laser screwdriver, or whatever it was, by her former self on a fake planet and lie on some fake ground and die. Well – obviously she had intended it when she was younger and more stupid. Even so, in the moment, she had thought that was it. She would die alone, for The Doctor, and he would never know. It wasn’t exactly the predicament she had wanted to be in. This is what you get for trying. This is what happens when you try to be good, you get shot. Her brain seemed to have a point.
She really had wanted to be good. Well – not good. She’d truly intended to try, for The Doctor and herself. So much of what she had done, horrified her now. Sitting back and watching cities burn. Just because a thing was horrifying however, didn’t mean it wasn’t also beautiful. Being good was boring. It involved too much sitting around and not shooting people. She needed to be moving, living, causing chaos. That was her thing. As well as shooting people. Being good felt too restrictive. What even was good? How do you define it? What words can you find to determine whether a person fits the ultimate criteria? She didn’t think there were any.
It wasn’t like the doctor was good anyway. He’d done many terrible things. She knew too many atrocities on his part to count. He’d left her on a ship headed to a black hole for starters. Not that he knew she hadn’t run away. With that other version of her. She really couldn’t believe she’d been him. Oh she appreciated the general idea of him, the brilliance that she’d had when she was him, but it was safe to say the whole shooting her in the fucking back thing was a little deterring.
The point, the original point before I got all side-tracked, was Missy had really thought that was how she would die. But here she was. Not dead. Not on that ship. She didn’t actually know where she was at all. She wasn’t completely sure her eyes were working, because all she could see was darkness. She had a horrifying moment in which she thought she might have regenerated, she certainly would be soon if she survived at all, which was quickly ruled out by the whole general feeling of still being her.
Out of nowhere, the lights blinked on, causing Missy to give a somewhat undignified yelp. A cold pain was pulsing through her, not to the extent she knew it later would, but enough to feel uncomfortable. Well that settled it she supposed, soon she was going to become the next version of herself. Ignoring the pain, she forced herself to look around. She was lying down on the floor, that much she could tell. It looked a little like a grid, more like a grid than a carpet anyway. There were small puncture holes in the metallic surface. It looked sort of familiar to her… like a distant memory that really shouldn’t be distant. With a jolt she realised, and sat up, narrowly avoiding hitting her head on the console above her. This was a Tardis.
She stood up and dusted herself off almost out of habit. Still wearing the same dress, inhabiting the same body. That was a relief. She took a breath, still trying to get her head around the whole – I’m alive part of the ordeal. She spun around quickly, surveying the Tardis her mysterious savour – she was assuming she didn’t get her by herself – had supplied her with. It reminded her uncomfortably of the Doctor’s Tardis – not something she really wanted to think about at the moment. It had somewhat of a golden glow around the edge of its console room and purple and silver colour to most things inside it. It was very fitting. She stumbled forwards to the controls, trying find something to tell her where she was.
Finally managing the pull the screen up, she noticed a golden glow not coming from the Tardis. She was regenerating. Well – that was a usual side effect of dying. It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before. Oh she really hoped she wouldn’t come back as a man. Now that would just be embarrassing. She found she didn’t really want to come back at all. Maybe this was it, she’d reached the peak version of herself here. She couldn’t turn into another version because they wouldn’t be quite as good. This was of course not true, but it did help to tell herself this in the midst of her attachment issues. Clenching her fist, she watched the glow disappear and turned her attention back to the screen.
Nowhere, it gladly informed her, was her current location. The middle of absolutely nowhere. 10-0-11-0-0 by 02, to be exact. Which also seemed distinctly familiar. In the confusion of her nearly dying, her brain seemed to have decided not practice its memory recall properly. She probably had barely an hour, what did it matter. Where she was. She stared angrily at the console. Why couldn’t she just remember? She slammed her fist down on the screen in anger. It achieved nothing, other than making her fist hurt.
She was angry – really, she was. She had tried. Maybe she had walked away. Maybe she hadn’t stood there and died with him right off the bat. It was a big thing! And the important thing was intent. Had past her really hated the Doctor so much the thought of standing with him was that mortifying. Or was it just the thought of dying for his cause that she had hated. That was the problem – she couldn’t remember. She knew she had been different to the doctor, they’d both chosen different paths. He fought the evil she embodied. But all they’d wanted – all both of them had wanted was to stand together. Hadn’t that been what they’d said?
Then again, the doctor was unbearable sometimes. And restricting. And moral code obsessed. And horribly against shooting people. Or throwing them out of aeroplanes. Or blowing up an aeroplane, that would be fun. She should really try that again, now there wasn’t the doctor to worry about, she supposed. Maybe he really had died, properly, on that ship; She hated that the thought was crushing. She wasn’t sure she wanted a universe without him. I wonder what I’d be without you. That’s what he’d said, all that time ago. She wondered what she’d be without him. Not enough, probably. She could have drowned herself in her anger and confusion toward him for the rest of her life, but she was stopped by a voice. A voice she’d never heard before.
“You really don’t know, do you?” It came from behind her, causing her to spin around and stare desperately into the eyes of a blonde woman who was stood at the Tardis entrance.
“Did you just come in?” Missy said stupidly.
The woman rolled her eyes and didn’t answer. She her hair was cut short just above her shoulders and she was very a very Doctoresque long coat. She was smiling a little, and Missy couldn’t help but be captivated.
“Know what?” Missy said, a little more sensibly.
“Why I brought the Tardis here?”
“No,” Missy admitted after a moment. Who the hell was this woman – unless – “Who are you?”
“Can’t you tell? I aged down a bit, but, well the coat is my thing don’t you think? I’m following your example aren’t I?” She smiled. “Had a bit of an upgrade.”
“You survived,” Missy said slowly, and for some reason the words took a weight off her shoulders.
“So did you,” The doctor’s smile faded. “I really am sorry y’know.”
Missy wanted to say something like ‘you bloody well should be’ but instead what came out was “What for?”
“Leaving you there.”
“You didn’t leave me. You came here didn’t you?”
“What happened then – with you, both yous, and Bill, the cybermen – that was a long time ago for me. I thought you’d left – never knew…” She trailed off. She wasn’t talking like it was a long time ago, missy thought stubbornly.
“Well why come now?” She said sharply. “I expect you quickly got distracted. Found some new petty humans to cry over.”
The Doctor didn’t answer. Usually when someone doesn’t answer a question like that, it’s because the person who asks already knows and doesn’t want to admit the answer. The issue with this was, Missy didn’t have a fucking clue why the Doctor would finally rock up after however long ‘a long time’ was.
“What harm is it going to do to say it now? After everything.” Missy said, scowling. She didn’t like not knowing things. Bad for the general wellbeing and scheming potential.
“You told me too,” The Doctor said bluntly. “Future you, when you finally remembered that we had this conversation.”
“Well that’s a bit of a paradox.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean ‘when you finally remembered we’d had this conversation’?”
“I mean you forget it, for some reason. Your brain is all messed up. It’s a side effect of dying,” Her eyes closed as she said the words. “Trust me, I’d much rather you remembered it. D’you know how many times you’ve tried to kill me since? I really thought we got over that.”
“That sounds like me,” Missy sighed, now really struggling to repress the regeneration. It really was very inconvenient. As angry was she was – and she really was angry – she still wanted to have this conversation. She needed to have this conversation. And she really liked this life, well not so much its contents but mainly its mindset. Going back to murder, well that did sound like her. More like her. But actual murder of the doctor? Directly? No planetary take over? Well to be fair that could also happen but – she really didn’t want to kill the Doctor.
“I like the regeneration,” Missy noted after a moments silence.
“So do I!” The Doctor said, looking happy for a moment. “Can’t believe I spent the thirteen before this as a man.”
“It’s a little embarrassing.” Missy agreed, nodding.
“Bit inconvenient on earth though.”
“Well it’s your fault you’re so fond of the place.” She winced as she said it, still forcing back the on coming regeneration.
“It’s certainly not my fault they insist upon being sexist though!”
“That doesn’t even remotely resemble what I said,” She raised an eyebrow.
“I know,” The Doctor looked down again. “You could come back a man. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”
“Yeah,” Missy begrudgingly admitted. “I suppose you know, don’t you?”
The Doctor smiled. “Spoilers.”
“Who’s Tardis is this?” Missy asked, glancing over her shoulder at the controls.
“Not mine.” The Doctor shrugged. “Maybe it’s yours. You’ll have to wait. Will you change it back? If you do become a man?”
“What?”
“Your name? Will you keep Missy?”
“Well, it seems a little inappropriate.”
“Sounds like you’re upholding human gender standards to me,” The Doctor smiled wryly. “Don’t go back to ‘the master’. It’s a stupid name.”
“So is Doctor.”
“Now that’s just plain rude.”
“Where are we, really?” Missy couldn’t help but ask as the thought re-entered her mind. She knew she should know.
“Gallifrey,” The Doctor said softly.
“But there’s nothing – oh.”
“Where it used to be. Where you told me it was.”
“I remember.” Another flash of memory of the people she’d killed. “Why?”
The Doctor didn’t answer. This time Missy knew exactly the answer already. It made a point. It said remember when you lied, and you hurt these people. Well – that’s what it felt like it was saying to Missy. She resented the fact.
“I thought it might stop you, but there’s no use in that. Its already happened.”
“You could have stopped it. Left me there. Would have been nice and easy for you to do,” Missy said pointedly, her voice far more nonchalant than she felt.
“Easy? What part of this is easy?” The Doctor looked genuinely surprised at Missy’s reaction. “You think after all this time I care for you so little?”
“You just pointed out the next time we meet I’m already back to murder,” Missy said shortly, trying to ignore her conflicting feelings. This, you should know, does not usually help sort them out. “And also that future me told you to.” She then began to consider the possibility that meant they were friends again. At some point.
“I thought you’d run off with the other you, if you don’t mind recalling!” The Doctor snapped defensively. If Missy was the kind of person to deterred by upset and conflict she might have apologised.
“Well what are you going to do now? Pick me up and then what? Keep me here? Stop me causing trouble?” She didn’t want to say she’d stay willingly. But she had barely anytime left now. Who knew what would happen once every cell in her body and been changed into someone new.
“I can’t.”
“Oh?”
“Everything that happens next for you has already happened for me. It’s not wise to rewrite time. You should know that, Timelady.”
“And you’re okay with that? No grand plan to pull it up at its roots. Kill me now and you can undo it all. Timelord.” Missy replied coldly.
“I would have thought its Timelady now,” The Doctor said, matching her tone, but she didn’t seem irritated. She had a better temperament that her previous incarnation. Missy liked this version of her – Missy liked all versions of the Doctor of course, but she did really like this version. “I don’t play with the laws of time,” Missy thought she could hear a muttered ‘anymore’ after that. “And I’m hardly going to bother saving you just to kill you.”
“Murder was always my thing anyway,” Missy muttered.
“I’ll drop you off where you told me you woke up. That should set things on the right course.” The Doctor said solemnly. Missy thought she probably would have preferred annoyance.
“I don’t understand why you keep coming back for me. To what? Save my soul? Can’t you see its already lost. You brought me here in a final attempt to change time, even though you profess that it must occur. What is your goal? You save me just so that I can hurt and kill some more? I’d hardly have put the oh so good Doctor down as someone who wants that on her conscience,” Missy snapped. The words seemed to tumble out before she could stop them, but she barely regretted it. Maybe that was how you got through to this new version of her.
“Maybe I don’t want to save your soul. Maybe I just want to save you!” the Doctor snapped in the return, Missy noticed one of her fists clenched at her side. The Doctor had been rocking on her feet the whole time, always moving. They traditionally were always moving, that was something the two of them had in common. But now she was stock still. That was how Missy knew she’d hit a nerve. Usually, this would have been a good thing. Seeing the expressions, of fury and sadness, when you figured out exactly what it was that would upset a person the most, it was brilliant. But she didn’t want to upset the doctor, heaven knew why.
“I really did want to be better, you know,” Missy looked away, not wanting to see the anger in her friend’s face.
“I know. You were coming back. I think that says enough doesn’t it. You still can be. I’m not trying to change the future, it’ll take you countless time to even remember we had this conversation. But you can change. We’re all capable of it, you’re not ruled out of this. When you remember this I want you to remember what you did. And I want you to remember who you wanted to be,” The Doctor said, her voice sounding ridiculously earnest. How sentimental. But some part of her, some part that harboured her positive feelings – love if you will – towards the Doctor was demanding she be happy about this remarkable continuation of faith.
“Oh god—” Missy cried suddenly, her thoughts broken off by a stabbing pain in her back – that’d be the shooting thing– and a swirl of gold around her left arm. The Doctor was at her side in a moment, seemingly having run forwards without thinking.
“I’m so sorry,” She said softly as Missy caught on a metal pillar beside her for support.
“It’s my fault,” Missy said, with a dry laugh, “Oh it really, really is my fault. I’m the one who went a bloody shot myself. In the back. Can you believe—”
“I could have stayed with you. We could have travelled the stars. I could have been so much more – like you said. We could have been so much more—” She couldn’t believe she was gushing her stupid thoughts now. What had happened to the disapproving cold side of her that wanted to reprimand the Doctors sense of superiority and lack of allowing murder. Maybe it was the dying thing. There was a lot of things that had happened in the last hour she wanted to blame on the dying thing.
“I would have liked that,” The Doctor said slowly, looking directly into Missy’s eyes with her hazel brown ones that always seemed to be smiling.
“All I’ve ever wanted was to be on the same side as you.”
“Keep that in mind when you next try to kill me will you.” Missy couldn’t help it. She smiled. Not that the moment could last long at all. Her hearts gave a leap in her chest as she looked down at the shining swirling light.
“I don’t want to change. I’m not ready for this—” the golden glow was pulsing in her hand. It was physically painful to repress now. Any moment now, she was would regenerate. Never look out of these eyes again. Never be the same as she was. Is. Is for a few more precious moments. Trust her to now get like this – all attached. To this version of herself, and to the Doctor. But then again, she’d always been attached to the Doctor hadn’t she. Always loved them in her own way.
“I’m so, so sorry.” The Doctor breathed, a sad smile on her face.
“I suppose, when it comes down it, you are my best friend. If I had to choose someone to see out of these eyes for the last time it would be you.” Something like recognition at her words seemed to flicker in the Doctor’s eyes, and then she nodded. She grasped Missy’s hand, helping her not to fall any further down.
“I wish—” But it seemed Missy would never find out what the Doctor wished. They were thrown apart with an incredible force, and Missy’s world went dark. The cold white pain that she’d been repressing shot through her, burning up everything. Rewriting her as someone new. What lasted merely seconds felt like an eternity. It stopped, a new pair of eyes looked out. She put a hand to her face and sighed. The Doctor was gone, that was the first thing she noticed. Then, glancing into the reflective metal surface opposite her, she noticed that she was most unfortunately a man again.
“Well this is embarrassing,” She – well he now I suppose – muttered, moments before he collapsed again. “I really hope I do remember.”
He did not. Perhaps that accounted for everything that happened next.