Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Revenge is not an idea we promote on my planet. But we're not on my planet...are we?" - Toy Story

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“Yes, I know that you’re a Dalek.  Where is Clara Oswald?”  At the moment, the Doctor only cared about two things – finding Clara and getting off of the planet with his TARDIS.  Being able to grab Missy, if only to keep an eye on her, would have been nice if there was time, but she probably already had an escape plan; she always did.  Besides, in the end, she was still Missy and he was the Doctor and their paths had diverged so long ago.  He’d always prioritize his companions’ safety over hers if it came down to being forced to choose.

Whether it was time, fate, their connection, or something else, Missy happened to round the corner in the next moment.  She was running with a bit of a limp, the Doctor noted with concern, but then he saw the heel of one of her boots was also missing. That must’ve been why.  Daleks didn’t wound their enemies; they…well, exterminated.  She was calling for him, pointing the extermination gun at the Dalek, then making some crack about all Daleks looking alike.  “But…it is you, isn’t it?” she asked again finally, a funny look on her face.

“Correct,” the Dalek confirmed.  “I am a Dalek.”

Missy rolled her eyes.  “For a race that’s mastered the concept of ‘I,’ they still don’t have a great sense of individuality, do they?”  She handed the gun to the Doctor, slowly but deliberately.  “Be careful.  That one’s been…well, is injured the right word?  Motor’s damaged, half power or so.  That’s why it’s being cagey.  But easier to kill, so yay!”

The Doctor tried to shove the gun back at Missy, fixing her with a glare.  She didn’t take it – odd, for her to ever refuse a weapon – but something in her expression suggested she had her reasons.  “Where’s Clara?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”  Her expression softened, and was she wincing?  She was holding back, hiding something – not unusual – but this was something she wasn’t gloating about.  “She’s gone.  I’m so sorry.  That’s the one that killed her.”

“What?”  The Doctor felt something harden inside him, something that always did whenever someone he loved was in danger.  If Clara was really dead, it might never soften again.  But Missy could be cruel, and it was hardly beneath her to lie to him about such a thing to get her to join him.  If anyone knew the darkness he was capable of if he let himself give in, it was Missy.  She’d never seen his companions as anything more than a pet he’d had a few days, anyhow. 

“We were cornered.  It was damaged, but for a human, that kind of blast is still fatal.  I tried to distract the others so she could run, but that one got her.”  Missy was surprising sober about it, and that worried the Doctor even more that the story might be true.  “Barely escaped, myself.”  She nodded at the gun in his hands.  “I figured the honor of revenge belonged to you.”

He was about to protest that revenge wasn’t his style, but that would have been a lie.  He usually refused to give in, that was all.  The regeneration energy drain was tiring him, which made him all the more desperate to know what was real.  Missy could still be lying, but if she wasn’t…  “Is it true?” he demanded, pointing the gun at the Dalek.  “Did you kill Clara?”

“Confirmed.”  The Dalek’s electronic tones were beginning to slow down and distort, which more or less verified Missy’s claims about it being damaged.  If it were damaged, the Doctor wouldn’t have felt so bad about killing it under normal circumstances, and with the building rage inside him, these circumstances were anything but normal.  “Doctor…Mercy.”

The Doctor and Missy both blinked in surprise, and that was the only thing that kept the Doctor from firing right away.  “What?  You…how do you know that word?”

“From you, Doctor,” the Dalek replied, its voice continuing to twist and distort.  “Mercy.”

The Doctor’s jaw set firmly.  “Did. You. Kill. Clara. Oswald?”

“Confirmed,” the Dalek replied.

The Doctor fired.

“I always knew you had it in you,” Missy murmured, her expression appreciative.

The Doctor glared at her.  He was angry, unspeakably so, and it was all that holding the grief he knew would crush him at bay.  “This is no time to gloat.”

“Not gloating, just proud.”  Missy leaned against the wall.  “S’pose now we can drop the act.”  She was acting strangely, even for her, and the Doctor stepped closer.

As he focused on her, he could sense it, and the Doctor’s lip curled.  He should have noticed sooner, but he’d been distracted.  “Drop the perception filter, Missy,” he snapped.  She was hiding something, and depending on what it was, that might have been the difference between leaving her behind to get herself off this forsaken planet or taking her with him as he returned to the TARDIS to mourn.

“Still giving orders, Mr. President?”  Missy sighed, lowering her head.  “Fine.”  When the Doctor could see her clearly, as she really was, he gasped in horror.  She hadn’t been limping because of a lost heel – her boots were fine.  What wasn’t fine, however, was the scorch mark along her right side – the one she’d been favoring, now that he realized.  It burned its way through her jacket and blouse, melting flesh and cloth together in a horrid mess.  She tried to step away from the wall, her head held high, but she collapsed as soon as she gave up its support.  The most telling part of how badly she was injured was that she hadn’t aimed for his arms or even called for him to catch her.  He did anyway, though, and lowered her to the floor as gently as he could.  “Might have been guilty of one teensy-weensy lil’ lie, though…”  Her head fell against his arm, and with the perception filter abandoned, she was ghastly pale.  “Wasn’t Clara that got hit…”

A blast like that would have been instantly fatal for a human, but that didn’t mean a Time Lord could survive it, either.  They just suffered longer, maybe got a few more moments to enact some clever plan.  “Then where’s Clara?  And why would the Dalek lie about killing her?”  If Clara was alive, he had to find her, rescue her…surely, Missy would regenerate and they’d go on with this twisted game they were always playing, some other place and time.

“It’s not a lie if you believe it.”  Missy was struggling to get the words out, and her chest would have probably been heaving with the effort if she weren’t already using respiratory bypass.  Both heartbeats were slowing, and one was beating an erratic pattern.  She reached for her brooch, her hand falling to her side from even that effort.  “Take it…”

The Doctor’s eyes widened as he examined the brooch.  He’d never paid much attention to it before, thought it was just an accessory.  But as he looked, really looked, he knew it instantly.  It was the same one he’d gifted her with so many years ago, a promise for the future of a new life.  “That’s…”

“Yes, idiot.”  Even dying, Missy managed to keep the annoyance in her tone.  “Tap it.  Guess modifying it for…non-Gallifreyan bodies…wasn’t a waste of time…”

The brooch’s obvious purpose was a weapon – for puncturing Daleks, a defense against the world their children had been born into, on the eve of a war.  But it, like so many other Time Lord marvels, only looked so simple.  It held a pattern buffer, like the ones that hosted data ghosts (a subject the Doctor generally tried to avoid thinking about), except it was designed to protect a living soul...DNA pattern, chemical makeup, and all.  Tuned to the right frequency, like the tricks that had allowed previous – even recent escapes – a vaporization and a transport could look the same.  He’d hoped to give his dear friend’s daughter the chance to save herself…and it had, in the end, saved his Clara.  He tapped it twice, directly in the center, and a light shot from the brooch, coalescing into the form of Clara Oswald.  She tumbled gracelessly to the floor, having been caught mid-run, and the Doctor would normally have hurried to assist her, but he was still cradling Missy.  She was fading fast and the Doctor frowned.  The regeneration process should have started by now…  “Clara!” 

“Doctor?”  Clara’s eyes widened as she stumbled to her feet, moving to kneel beside him and the fallen Time Lady.  “Is she…?”

“It’ll be all right.”  The Doctor was beginning to suspect he was lying, but that had been Rule One, right?  “She’ll regenerate.  Who knows what face she’ll have next?”

“If only,” Missy wheezed.  She had that same tired, resigned look as when she’d refused to regenerate before – though clearly that hadn’t lasted.  “Can’t…energy blast disabled it…”

“No.”  That hadn’t occurred to him in the panic of the moment, that she might not be regenerating because she couldn’t, not that she wouldn’t.  He certainly remembered what that was like.  “Take some of mine, then…clearly, I’ve been generous lately…”  He flexed his hand, calling it forth, and she batted him away, weak as a kitten.

“Moron.  It’d…take all of them and then this one.”  She managed a glare, pitiful though it was.  “’Specially after that stunt…you just pulled…”

“Maybe not.”  Facing the loss – the very real loss, this time – of his oldest friend, the Doctor wasn’t inclined to think logically.  “Don’t have to fix it all, patch you up and let the TARDIS do her thing…”

The planet shook again, reminding them all that they were running out of time.  Wasn’t that always the way?  He either ran from time or out of it.  Clara intervened, grabbing the Doctor’s shoulder.  “Doctor!  You’re no good to me dead!”

“She’s right, y’know…”  Missy gasped the last few words out before losing consciousness entirely.

As much as his emotions were flooding his mind and body, the Doctor knew in his hearts they were both right.  If he risked it and died, Missy might die anyway and leave Clara stranded here.  And if Missy survived and he didn’t…well, he still loved her dearly, despite everything, but he certainly didn’t trust her enough to watch over Clara.  He steeled himself, scooping Missy up as he stood and nodding for Clara to grab the Dalek gun.  With proper medical care, Missy might survive, even if the recovery would be long and painful without the aid of regeneration.  It was a race against time for her, too.  “We need to get to the TARDIS.”

“But…it was destroyed?”  Despite her words, there was a definite question in Clara’s tone as she followed him, soon falling into step beside him with practiced ease, even at a run.

“Not exactly,” the Doctor replied.  “The old girl still has a few tricks up her own sleeve…console?  Oh, whatever, just run!”

It wasn’t the first time, or probably the last, the Doctor would overestimate his own abilities.  He’d gotten them off Skaro and made sure Missy was stabilized in a medical pod in the TARDIS’ infirmary…and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in a bed nearby.  Clara was at his side, though she didn’t looked too alarmed; that had to be a good sign.  She put down the tablet she was reading, smiling brilliantly as she noticed him looking at her.  “Oh, thank goodness.  You’re awake!”

“What happened?” As cliché as the question was, the Doctor supposed it had to be asked.  Humans expected those little social prompts in conversation. 

“You passed out.”  Clara frowned, taking his hand, but it quickly turned back into a smile.  “Scared the hell out of me, until the TARDIS told me it was just exhaustion.  You’ve been asleep for about…”  She consulted her tablet for the time.  “Sixteen hours.”

Given how little sleep he typically needed, that was a long time.  “Well, I’m much better now, thank you.”  He sat up, though didn’t hop up immediately in the hopes of reassuring her.  He glanced across the room at Missy, still healing in her pod.  Her pulse rates were far higher than he’d have liked, and not in sync, and her blood pressure was low.  Circulatory and likely neurologic shock.  She was still critical, but she wasn’t actively dying, and the Doctor could accept that for now.  “How’s our guest?”  Again, an unnecessary question – he’d just determined that for himself – but Clara would no doubt be expecting it.

“All right for now…I guess.”  Clara frowned, her gaze following his to Missy.  “This is beyond my skillset with humans, never mind Time Lords.  I’m glad the TARDIS knows what she’s doing.”

“That she does,” the Doctor agreed.  Clara’s expression was mysterious, but decidedly thinky.  Her experiences with Missy were a mixed bag, for sure, and she hadn’t even had the luxury of knowing Missy when she was just a child on Gallifrey, before the Untempered Schism had begun to warp that brilliant mind.  “Penny for your thoughts?”

Clara sighed, moving to sit beside him on the bed.  As she leaned against him, he shifted to put an arm around her shoulders.  Though she’d fared the best of them all physically, this adventure had no doubt taken a mental toll on her.  Too many of them did, and that was another thing the Doctor felt guilty for, but he was happy to help share her burden.  “It’s just…she’s still, her.  Nothing she did before was undone.  She thinks of murder as a game.  She threatened to kill me half a dozen times and I’m pretty sure a few of those were serious.  But in the end, she saved my life.  And I’m pretty sure she did that for you, not me, but still…”

The Doctor nodded, sighing as well.  “She’s a complicated soul.”

Clara looked up at him, her smile returning.  “So are you.  Is that why you two became friends?”

“Suppose so.”  The Doctor was glad for an excuse to remember fonder times.  “We were children…classmates, then friends.  We just…understood each other, in the ways many of the others didn’t.  I suppose we always knew we were meant for something other than what our society wanted us to be.”

“Is that why you ran away?” Clara asked.

“I told you, I was bored.”  The Doctor chuckled, before growing quiet again as he watched Missy, her animated face so eerily still.  “Granted, stealing the TARDIS…that might have been a touch extra, but others left, too.  Just not as grandly.”

“So what made her…well, snap?”  Clara was watching Missy as well, and the Doctor knew she was no stranger to shades of grey.  But she was longing to understand what let Missy to the extremes she’d displayed.

While the Doctor couldn’t (and didn’t want to) explain everything, he wanted to help.  And perhaps let her understand why he still cared so much, even after all Missy had put him through in all of the various forms they’d encountered each other.  “Can’t say for sure.  Time Lord initiation…well, everyone has a different response.  She wasn’t the first to have a rough go of it, though Missy’s never done anything in half measures.  It wasn’t like a light switch, from my old pal to raising armies of Cybermen in one go.  And I think – no, I know – that’s she’s always resented my leaving.  Things build over time, especially when one has a very long time for them to build.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”  Clara’s expression grew contemplative.  “When she lies like she breathes, how do you tell the truth?”

The Doctor’s laugh came out like more of a snort.  “You should know by now, Clara, that I’m the wrong person to ask about that.  Speaking of which, have I made that last time up to you?”

Clara grinned.  “Yeah, I guess.  Considering we’re alive and all.”  She reached into her pocket, pulling Missy’s brooch out and holding it in the palm of her hand before passing it to him.  He tucked it into his own pocket for safekeeping, until it could be returned to its owner.  “She said you gave her that when her daughter…well, she never did say what, but I assumed was born?  Does she really have a daughter?”

The Doctor nodded.  “Yes, when her daughter was born…and, yes, she did.  Perished in the war, despite all our best efforts.”  Like his own family, save Susan, but that was the last thing he wanted to talk about.  Clara knew enough for now; the Doctor intended to keep the focus on Missy to avoid her thinking this might be a good time to learn more.  “For all her faults, she was a very loving parent.”  Once he’d recognized the piece of jewelry for what it was, it didn’t surprise him at all to learn Missy had kept it – and in this form, found a way to have it close to her hearts.  She had a sentimental streak a mile wide.

Clara nodded, clearly taking that in, then looked up at him again, a bit of mischief in her eyes.  “Did you really grow babies in looms or were you just pulling my leg?”

The Doctor couldn’t help a small laugh.  “Yes…we did.  I could show you a graphic and everything.  Gallifreyans never became sterile as an entire species; infertility did happen, but we still had the ability to reproduce the traditional way.  It was looked down upon by most of the society, to be fair – a bit messy.  Some even said barbaric.  But some still chose to have their children that way.  Missy did – granted, she didn’t have to carry the child at the time, but her wife did agree.  Some people wanted the full experience.”

“And you?”  Clara frowned, seeming to think better of her question once it had been asked.  “Sorry.  I mean, I know it’s a bit personal, but…”

“Bit of both – and then some.”  He should have known she’d asked; she knew he’d had children, if not much about them.  The Doctor wanted to give Clara a little information, to keep her from feeling like he was shutting her out again, but he wasn’t anywhere near ready to discuss that subject further.  “That’s another story for another time.”  Someday, he might feel emotionally stable enough to tell her about all of them, the ones he’d cradled in his arms and later lost – plus Jenny.  Quirk of fate that she might have been, he’d come to love her as quickly as he’d lost her and still thought of her as his. 

Clara nodded.  “I’ll look forward to it, then.”  She hopped up from the bed, patting his shoulder.  “You should get some more rest.”

“I’m fine,” he protested.  “Sixteen hours – that’s practically enough sleep for weeks!”

Clara fixed him with a very maternal look and the Doctor found the role reversal made him feel awkward.  “You look tired.”

“That’s just my face!”  He swatted her away playfully. 

“Rest,” Clara repeated, easing him back down.  “I’ll keep an eye on Scary Poppins.  She did save my life.”

“If anyone should be resting, it’s you,” the Doctor insisted, sitting back up.  He’d have stood, but Clara was blocking his way.  “You’re human; it’s been a long day.  You need more sleep than I do at baseline!”

Clara rolled her eyes.  “You’re impossible.”  She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her chair up closer to the head of the bed.  “Okay, compromise?  We’ll both rest.”  She propped her feet on a nearby box, grabbing her tablet.  “Fair enough?”

“Fair enough,” the Doctor allowed.  It was the only way he figured he’d win this round.  Surely, she’d fall asleep soon and then he could go about his business.  “Wait – what are you doing with that tablet?  I thought you said resting.”

“I am resting.”  She turned the screen so he could see the book page on display.  “I’ve always liked to read before bed when I get the chance.”

The Doctor nodded.  “All right, then.  What are you reading?  Anything good?”

She snorted.  “No, I only read books that are absolute rubbish.”  After flashing him a teasing grin, she returned her attention to the screen.  “It’s by Neil Gaiman.  Actually, the trickster god character reminds me a bit of you sometimes.”

The Doctor smiled.  He’d certainly been compared to worse.  “Ah, enjoy then.  Neil…met him once.  Lovely bloke…though he got a bit close to the TARDIS for my comfort.”

That got Clara to look back up on him.  “Are you telling me Neil Gaiman had a crush on the TARDIS?”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far, but he did seem to be getting attached.”  The Doctor shrugged.  “Not that I can blame him.  She’s rather alluring.”

Clara chuckled, shaking her head as she resumed reading.  “You’re so jealous sometimes.”

The Doctor merely shook his head, choosing to let Clara think she’d won that round.  He shifted on the bed, getting comfortable as he watched her read, as he watched Missy fight to survive.  The two people in the universe left alive that he was closest to were both right here, even if the situation was far from ideal.  His thoughts wandered, as they were prone to, and he was just beginning to contemplate where a pure Dalek had ever learned the word “mercy” when he dozed off despite that being the last thing he’d intended to do.

The Doctor was jolted awake by the sound of alarms, and he was instantly alert as he raced to Missy’s bedside, assessing the monitor readings.  Her left heart had failed and was fibrillating in a fatal rhythm and the readings from her right suggested it might soon do the same.  Clara had hurried over as well, but she didn’t know how this equipment worked – and even if she did, as she’d said earlier, this was beyond her skillset.  Still, she stood ready and looked at the Doctor, waiting for instructions.  Truthfully, this level of care was a bit beyond him as well, but he could hardly ring up a Gallifreyan intensivist for advice.  He switched the pod into automatic resuscitation mode, which was far more efficient than he’d be able to manage manually, even working in tandem with Clara.  Two hearts did make effective CPR more complicated.  The system delivered a dose of epinephrine into Missy’s veins and he waited breathlessly, watching the monitors to see if it helped.  The right heart continued to skip beats at random as the left fluttered uselessly.  “Come on, Koschei, don’t do this to me!  Where’s that fighting spirit now?”  Her body twitched with the energy of a jolt specifically designed to kick her left heart back into beating properly without stopping the right.  The console beeped as a cocktail of medications flowed into her veins, along with plasma and fluids designed to support her struggling circulatory system.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but was only three minutes and fifty-one seconds according to the pod’s timer, both hearts were beating effectively, if not ideally, and she was beginning to breathe again on her own.  The resuscitation equipment withdrew and the Doctor finally relaxed his grip on the outer edge of the pod.  “Atta girl.”  The current readings were far more compatible with life, and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

Clara slowly moved to sit down again; the adrenaline in her own system was no doubt surging.  It certainly was for the Doctor.  “So…she’s all right now?”

The Doctor sat down on the bed beside her, as it was closest, his eyes still on Missy.  “As all right as she can be for the moment.”

Clara shook her head, a breathy cross between a sigh and a chuckle escaping her throat.  “I…look at me.  At first, I’m wondering how I feel about you trying to save her at all and now I’m hoping she’ll pull through.  And you say she’s complicated.”

Oh, boy, did the Doctor understand that feeling.  “Missy tends to have that effect on people.  Sometimes, she can be so charming and I begin to see the friend I knew underneath all the rage and pain…and then other times, she’s just so…”

“Murdery?” Clara suggested.

“Essentially, yes,” the Doctor agreed. 

Clara glanced at him with that look she got when she wasn’t sure she should ask him something but was probably going to do it anyway – and she did.  “What was that you called her?  Koschei?”  Her pronunciation was ever-so-slightly off, but no non-Gallifreyan was ever going to say it perfectly, despite the Earth folklore Missy had managed to lend her name to.  Koschei the Deathless, indeed.  Hopefully the “deathless” part would stick for now.

“It’s her name – her actual name.”  As much as the Doctor felt like Missy should have had the right to reveal that herself, she’d never guarded her name as closely as he had.  Of course, she’d never had the same reasons to.  Earth wasn’t the only planet with a myth named for her – and Missy had taken a bit of pride in that.  “It’s not quite like mine, not as complicated.  And that’s actually a shortening of it – rather like ‘Missy,’ actually.”

“Oh.”  Clara nodded.  “Well, I guess I never thought her name was actually ‘Mistress.’  Or ‘Master,’ even.  Do all your people pick aliases and save your names for special occasions?”

The Doctor shook his head.  “Many do, especially prominent Time Lords who have a lot following them around.”  His was the only one whose could never be spoken, except in the most extreme circumstances or intimate moments, but that wasn’t exactly a cultural thing.  Even “Theta,” which was still reserved for the few that even knew it and fewer that would dare use it, had been an Academy nickname.  “But not all, certainly.  I knew many who used their names freely.”

Clara nodded, glancing at the spot on the bed beside him as if asking permission to join him again.  He nodded – he was certainly in the mood to indulge her, given recent events and those terrifying moments he’d thought he lost her – and she cuddled up to him readily.  “Does all that have anything to do with why you give people so many nicknames?”

He laughed.  “Not really.”  Some of them were given out of circumstance or affection, like any other nickname, but that was only for those he was closest to.  For all the others, the explanation was far simpler.  “There are billions of humans on this planet and billions upon billions of more individuals I’ve encountered on my travels.  You really think I have the energy or desire to keep all those names straight?”

Clara giggled.  “I’d thought of that, but it really seemed too obvious.  Occam’s Razor, I suppose.”

The Doctor nodded in agreement.  “The simplest hypothesis is usually the correct one.”

Slowly but surely, Missy’s condition began to improve.  She was still unconscious but stable and the Dalek wound appeared to be healing.  Neither the Doctor nor Clara was entirely comfortable leaving her alone in the TARDIS should she awaken suddenly, both for different and yet similar reasons.  They’d started taking shifts, at least until Missy was awake.  And someone was most definitely going to be keeping an eye on her when she was awake, but the Doctor figured that would probably be him.  Clara had certainly done enough to repay Missy’s saving her life.  The Doctor wasn’t sure if Clara’s shooing him out of the infirmary, suggesting they switch out, had been for his benefit or so she could get some things off her chest without the concern of Missy threatening her life for it, but she seemed content with the extra reading time, so he’d stopped arguing. 

The Doctor was lounging in the TARDIS control room, idly adjusting his sonic sunglasses, when Clara popped up on the communication screen.  “Doctor?”

The sunglasses clattered against the console, instantly forgotten.  “Yes?  Are you all right?  Is she awake?"

Clara smiled, clearly touched by his concern.  “Yes and no…not exactly.  She’s still out of it, at least I think so, but she’s started calling for someone.  It’s hard to make out, but I think it’s…Sarah?  Didn’t you have a friend by that name?”

The Doctor tried not to wince.  “Sarah Jane, yes, but I doubt that’s who she means.  I think it’s more likely ‘Sarai.’”

“Sarai,” Clara repeated, nodding.  “Yes, that does sound closer.  Who’s that?”

This wouldn’t be easy, not at all, if Missy was still calling for Sarai when she was awake.  Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.  He’d decide on the way down to the infirmary how he was going to handle it now, a kind lie or gentle reorientation.  Which would he have wanted in the same situation?  “Sarai was her daughter’s name.  I’m on my way there.”

Chapter Text

Missy was still mostly unconscious, as Clara had indicated, but she was restless and indeed murmuring Sarai’s name at random intervals.  Clara was holding her hand but put it down at the Doctor’s arrival; he opted to pretend he hadn’t noticed.  Certainly, if anyone deserved for him to spare her dignity, it was Clara. 

“Missy…”  The Doctor took Missy’s hand in both of his, hoping to soothe her with a familiar presence.  From the rapid eye movement beneath her eyelids, she was going to be awake soon, and if she felt threatened, she was likely to attack.  Besides, he knew exactly what it was like to wake up and have that moment of hope dashed, where he’d thought perhaps one of his children was nearby and then found himself alone.  Missy only ever had Sarai, but losing one instead of fourteen (including Jenny) didn’t lessen the pain at all.  And, despite his struggles, Koschei had loved that girl with the power of a thousand worlds – and no doubt would have sacrificed every one of those worlds to let her live.  That, the Doctor could relate to.  To have his loved ones back and safe, he could learn to live with letting worlds burn.

Missy’s hand tightened around his, but she didn’t respond otherwise.  She groaned, struggling against an invisible bond – something she was dreaming of, or was it her own body?  She murmured a phrase in old Gallifreyan and the Doctor took in a deep breath.  He hadn’t heard those words aloud in a very long time – and even though they weren’t directed at him, they touched him deeply.

“That’s new,” Clara observed, moving to stand beside the Doctor.  “She wasn’t saying that before.”

“Old Gallifreyan,” the Doctor explained.  “There’s no proper English translation, but it’s a term of endearment.”  Whether Missy meant her wife or her daughter, it was hard to tell – the term was flexible enough in its connotations to apply to both.  He’d once whispered it to his infant children and also to his wives.  Well, not all of them – that was something only Patience and River understood.  Loss came with being a Time Lord, sadly, at least since the war.  It wasn’t as bad as it had once been, knowing Gallifrey was out there somewhere, but it still hurt and always would.  It was part of why he was quicker to forgive his old friend when others wouldn’t have.  There but for the grace, as the old saying went…it could just as easily have been him sometimes.  He shifted his grip on her hand and reached out to stroke Missy’s hair, humming an ancient lullaby.  If she could hear him, perhaps that would calm her.

It had the intended effect and she stopped struggling, even pressing her cheek into his palm.  He wouldn’t mention that later; it would either embarrass her or she’d make a big fuss about it.  Given the overly enthusiastic kiss she’d taunted him with at their reunion, he couldn’t be sure.  “Yes…there you go.  Relax, you’re safe.”  That, he could at least be truthful with her about for now.  As she relaxed, he could see a faint golden glow beginning to form beneath her skin, and he smiled.  “Yes, good – there you go!”  This wasn’t a full regeneration starting; she’d healed enough that her wounds were no longer in danger of being fatal.  Her body was beginning to take over healing itself, and without her conscious guidance.  She was going to be fine, and it was a relief.  Her outfit would never be the same, which she’d no doubt be peeved about, but if that was the only casualty, they were doing just fine.  And she could always get another one.  She probably had one stashed somewhere; he always had spares of his favorite looks.

Clara looked at him as he stepped away from Missy’s side.  “She’s…glowing.  But it’s not big and --” She mimed an explosion with her hands.

The Doctor nodded.  “She’s just healing internally, not regenerating.  Like it or not, we’re stuck with this version for a bit.  Which is probably fortunate, since the next one might be even more unhinged.  It’s always a lottery.”  Though, to be fair, some Time Lords had learned to have a bit more precision with the process.  He wasn’t particularly bothered that he didn’t; as fond as he had become of some forms and as much as others had taken some getting used to, it all worked out in the end.  “She’ll probably be awake within the hour…you can go do something else if you like.  I’ll stay.”  He was best equipped to handle Missy if she happened to be agitated when she awoke.

“It’s all right.”  Clara shrugged, returning to her chair.  “I don’t mind keeping you company.” 

The Doctor wasn’t sure if her offer to stay was truly moral support for him or her attempt to save face about being concerned for Missy in any way – perhaps some combination of the two.  Either way, he hardly minded having her near.  They soon fell into a comfortable silence as she continued to read her book and he watched Missy heal and sleep.  The glow began to fade from her as her vital signs normalized, and the Doctor didn’t take his eyes off of her for longer than the moment to glance at the monitors.  It was probably a little creepy, once he thought about it, but he wanted to know the moment she began to stir. 

As he’d predicted, after about a half hour, Missy started to stretch and blink.  The Doctor moved to her side.  He didn’t take her hand this time, not yet; she’d let him know if she needed the comfort.  “Missy?  That’s it; come on back to us now.”

Missy groaned, her eyes finally opening and beginning to look around.  The first thing she focused on was his face.  “Doctor?”

The Doctor smiled.  “Right here.  You’re in the TARDIS…you’re safe.”

“As safe as I can be in enemy territory,” Missy murmured wryly, but she didn’t look as if she felt particularly threatened.  She giggled.  “I do love a good regeneration energy high.”  Noticing Clara as she glanced around, her smile widened.  “Oh, hello.  Be a dear and get Mummy a drink, hmm?”

Clara only shook her head, rolling her eyes as she raised her tablet to hide her face.

The Doctor wagged his finger at Missy playfully.  “Now, remember.  She’s my friend, not your servant.  And you don’t need a drink; you need to rest.  You gave us a nasty scare.”

“Gave you a scare, maybe.”  Missy snorted.  “That one over there was probably planning one corker of a wake.  Not that I blame her.  I’d have done the same.”  She sat up, swinging her legs out over the edge of the pod and ducking to avoid the ceiling as she hopped to her feet.  “Stop your fretting; I’m fine.  You’re the one who stumbles about like a newborn fawn after regenerating, and I didn’t even fully regenerate.  When was the last time a Dalek took me down?”  She put a finger to her chin.  “Well, aside from the Battle of Keloria.  All right, and Genia Seven.  Okay, maybe I don’t have a great history with Daleks.  The point is, I’m quite all right now.”  She did a little dance as if to prove her point, holding her hands out to her side.  She didn’t quite manage to hide a wince before she rubbed at her side.  “So the new flesh is a little tender.  That’s normal; it’ll fade.”

“Maybe skip the cartwheels for now,” the Doctor advised, shaking his head slowly.  Short of tying her down, as tempting as that might be sometimes, there really wasn’t anything he could do to stop her from getting up and moving around.  If he went along with it, she might be less inclined to push herself too hard by trying to show off.  “I’ll show you to a guest room but be thinking of where you might like to go.  First thing in the morning, or what passes for it in the Vortex, off you go.  I’ll drop you wherever you like – within reason.”

Missy shot him an exaggerated expression of astonishment.  “You’re just going to let me run free?  I’m impressed!”

It probably wasn’t the best option, overall, but it was the best one he had for the time being.  Better to let her go and have a chance at tracking her whereabouts than have her escape because she felt imprisoned.  There was a part of them both, down deep, that wanted to be close again, but they weren’t there yet and they certainly didn’t trust each other enough to travel together for more than a short period of time.  “Yes, it’s part of our new catch and release program.  We don’t usually have a detour through the infirmary, but as you keep reminding me, you’re special.” 

“Oh, you have no idea how special.”  Missy curtsied dramatically.  “But thank you.”  Despite her glib tone, the look in her eyes said the thanks was genuine and the Doctor acknowledged it with a small nod.  “Now, where can a girl get a decent cup of tea in these parts?  And it had better not be any of that dreck you’ve had stashed away since the Stone Ages.  I have standards.”

Fortunately, the Doctor did keep a supply of Yorkshire tea on hand, which happened to be Missy’s favorite.  He rather liked it, too, though he’d started keeping it around for Clara.  He felt it best not to mention that; Missy needed no opening to crack jokes about his companions.  Alone in the guest room, she had let her guard down somewhat.  The barriers between them were still there, but she didn’t seem to feel the need to be as showy.  Or perhaps she was just tired, despite her protests.  The Doctor wasn’t sure which one he wanted it to be.  Hope was a dangerous thing and it had bitten him nearly as much as his compassion.  Still, he couldn’t give up either entirely, nor did he want to know what kind of man he’d become if he did. 

Missy sipped at her tea, her legs curled under her in her chair.  “Are you really going to let me go?  Just like that?”

“Just like that,” the Doctor repeated, his hands curling around his own cup.  “You did save Clara, so we’re good for now.”

Missy nodded.  “I suppose if I need your attention again, I’ll just take over another planet.”

The Doctor groaned, knowing she was probably only half-joking.  “Please don’t.” 

“Oh, could be fun,” Missy teased.

He could play along for now, especially if it kept her happy and therefore out of trouble.  “I’m getting to be an old man!  Have mercy on me.”  That word stopped him, though, and he frowned, considering the question he’d been forced to abandon earlier in light of the more pressing crisis.  “Mercy.  How did the Dalek even manage to think about mercy, much less speak of it?”

Missy shrugged.  “Surprised me, too, but it wouldn’t have been the first time.  Strange, for a pure Dalek, but a different one once asked your Dr. Song for mercy.”  She laughed and it sounded genuine.  Unfortunately, these days, she tended to be thrilled by things she absolutely should not have been.  “Granted, she didn’t show it any, but I don’t think anyone’s surprised by that.”

The Doctor didn’t know which incident Missy was referring to, but there were a lot of adventures River had never told him about – and even more details she tended to leave out of the stories he knew.  “You know River?”

“Who doesn’t?”  Missy took an extended sip of her tea, smiling coyly at him.  “I did hear a rumor about you two…many rumors, actually.”

“What, that we’re married?”  He held up his hand so that she could see his wedding ring more clearly.  “That one’s true.”  Though he hadn’t seen her in ages, he’d managed to dodge the trip to Darillium she’d mentioned at the Library, many times over.  The memories of her death were still painfully etched into his mind, but until they went to the Towers, there was hope for another encounter.  He knew she’d die, someday; he’d seen it for himself.  But until then, he couldn’t entirely consider himself a widower from that marriage, much as he felt like it some lonely nights. 

Missy rolled her eyes.  “No, you dolt; she was pretty clear about that one.  She gets possessive, you know!  All this ‘you might be his friend, but I’m his wife’ nonsense.  Honestly.”

“So what’s the rumor?” the Doctor asked.  If that wasn’t it, he was curious.

“That your latest little puppy-eyed friend might be the little Time Tot you’ve had with River.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “Never believed it for a moment, especially once I met her.  She’s painfully human, which I suppose might be a possibility with all those genetics floating around, but…honestly.  No.”

The Doctor would have choked on his tea if he hadn’t finished it already.  He would have been proud to have Clara as a daughter, but she absolutely wasn’t.  River had told him long ago that the Silence had rendered her infertile so that they wouldn’t risk having her slowed down by a pregnancy or distracted by motherhood.  It had infuriated him, not because he’d hoped to have children with her – it wasn’t something he was ready to think about yet, honestly, especially knowing that child would lose their mother so soon.  But it was yet another way River’s body had been manipulated and her agency stolen from her.  Despite those heavy feelings, the Doctor couldn’t help but share Missy’s sense of amusement at the idea that Clara was his daughter, even if it wasn’t for the same reasons.  “Oh, she’s special, but that’s not why.  Honestly, I’m still figuring out why.  But she’s not mine, though, or River’s.  Certainly not ours together.”  His thoughts kept wandering back to the Dalek, however.  “Still…how does a Dalek get the concept of ‘mercy’ into its code?”

“Ugh.”  Missy rolled her eyes.  “Changing the subject again?  And just when I was about to cheerfully pry into your personal life.  Okay, Mr. Obsessed With Daleks.  Clearly, Davros isn’t big on the idea, so how does it come up?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been asking!”  He knew she was only humoring him, if not mocking him outright, but he was still happy to use her as a sounding board.  Almost like in the old days…  “It’s not like he…wait.”  Suddenly, he knew what he had to do as soon as he dropped Missy off and returned Clara to her life on Earth.  That little boy on the battlefield didn’t understand mercy because he’d never been shown any.  And Davros was still going to grow into a power-hungry warlord, because some things were fixed in time and space and some trauma couldn’t be erased.  But, perhaps, if he’d been given a little grace, even once…his creations would have some concept of it, themselves, even if they were programmed not to show it.  And even though he hadn’t done it yet, he now knew it must have happened so long ago, which eased the shame he felt about that day somewhat.  Not entirely – he should never have run the first time.  But, sometimes, running away didn’t preclude coming back.

The Doctor knew better than to tell Missy his plan; she’d either try to stop him, mock him endlessly (as if she weren’t going to do that already over other topics), or go back and exterminate Davros herself and plunge all of time and space into endless chaos.  He’d hidden the Dalek gun away carefully, but Missy would find it, somehow.  She was both clever and determined, a dangerous combination.  He became aware that Missy was staring at him.  “What?”

She sneered at him, though there was little heat in it.  “You’ve got that obnoxious do-gooder look on your face again.  Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t want to hear about it; I might vomit.”

“Good, because I don’t want to tell you about it.”  He smirked at her, happy for the opportunity to one-up her briefly.  After refilling both their teacups, however, he settled back into his chair, watching as she did the same.  Was she mirroring him intentionally, trying to manipulate him somehow, or just getting comfortable?  It was hard to tell.  “Seriously, though, are you feeling all right?”

“Fine…right as rain.”  Missy laughed.  “What, afraid you’ll have to break in a new oldest friend?  It’s not like the ones you keep these days have terribly long lifespans.”  She eyed him for a long moment, though whether she was looking for a reaction or simply thinking, he wasn’t sure.  “I didn’t say anything embarrassing while I was out, did I?  Oh, that would be terrible if I started claiming I wanted to be good.  You know that was just fever talk if I did, right?”

She was playing with him, and he knew it, but the Doctor felt he owed it to her to be honest.  It might sting, but he knew that the core of who she was – who she’d once been – was intact and he wanted her to know.  No condescension, no mocking, just a moment between two friends who had too much shared pain in their very long lives.  “No, nothing like that.”

Missy’s mood shifted to match his almost instantly.  “But there was something.”

The Doctor nodded.  “Before the regeneration energy took over, when you were out of the woods but still quite seriously injured…you were calling for Sarai.”

“Oh.”  She swallowed hard, lifting her cup of tea to cover it.  “Well.  Mother’s prerogative, I suppose.”

“Of course.”  He wouldn’t dare taunt her about that, and he moved closer to put a hand on her arm.  “You did everything you could to protect her.”

She looked away from him and he could tell she was trying very hard not to cry.  “Wasn’t enough.”

“I know.”  He sighed heavily, blinking back tears of his own.  “Believe me, I know.”

Missy nodded silently, continuing to look off into the distance before setting her cup down with a fake cheerful smile.  “Well!  We simply must discuss where you’ll be taking me tomorrow.  Someplace with a beach, of course…but not too hot…”

The Doctor sighed; he recognized the technique and he’d certainly used it himself a time or two.  He wanted to reassure her that she didn’t need to deflect her pain, that he was willing to share it – but he also knew that, sometimes, the pain just felt too overwhelming.  Sometimes it had to be deflected to spare one’s sanity…especially for Missy, who had precious little sanity left.  So he rolled with it.  “No need for games.  I know damn well you’re going to have me leave you wherever your TARDIS is.  If that place happens to have a lovely beach and a temperate climate, so much the better, I suppose.”

Missy smiled approvingly into her teacup.  “Sometimes, you’re not as daft as you look.”

The next morning, after leaving Missy on the lovely resort planet of Hedone – hardly a subtle name – and Clara at home, the Doctor returned to help that little boy he’d once abandoned.  It wouldn’t change much, but the most important change had already been made and he could live with that.  The best days were indeed the ones where everybody lived.