A/N: I'm massive Twissy trash and couldn't resist this. I've really enjoyed trying to explore different aspects of the characters and relationship dynamics. Can't promise it's any good, but I've enjoyed writing it.

Chapter One

There was never a doubt in his mind that she had survived the incident in the graveyard. That was a given. The illusion of her death, however, gave Clara some comfort and made the atmosphere between the two of them a little less stifling. It wasn't that he wanted an easy life- if that was the case he wouldn't have done half of the things he'd done in his very long life. The fact was that while he loved both Clara and Missy deeply it was in very different ways. But the two women couldn't stand the sight of each other. Of course, they hadn't particularly met in the best of circumstances and Missy had made no effort to repair Clara's first impression of her as a mad, psychopath. And while that was the case, it was ignoring all her other sides. What was funny, the Doctor thought to himself, was that as different as they were, their black and white view of each other was identical. Missy saw Clara as another of his little human pets in a long line of pretty human girls that travelled with him. She was leading a mundane human existence that was soon to expire. In this character assessment, Missy had failed to see Clara's caring side, the impact she has on the kids she teaches and how brave she can be. Clara, for her part, thought Missy was absolutely bonkers and she would have found her behaviour amusing if she didn't know how dangerous it was. What Clara failed to see, however, was what had made Missy that way. She had also never seen all the years of friendship he had shared with Missy- the years running through fields in Gallifrey, the years at the Academy and the many times she'd been in his thoughts over the last few years.

Clara never would be able to fully comprehend the relationship that he and Missy shared. It was not her fault, of course, she was only human. The Doctor inwardly cringed. Only human. If Clara had heard it, she would have immediately snapped at him for such a generalisation, perhaps she would have labelled him a 'speciesist' if there was such a thing. In this case, though, the 'only-human' label was not meant as an insult, not in the way that it would have been had the words fallen from Missy's mouth where each syllable would drip with condescension. No, whenever he thought of Clara as only-human it was a way of explaining the sometimes insurmountable differences between their lives. Saying Clara was 'only human ' could mean a lot of things, but it was never meant as an insult. Maybe one day soon he'd try and explain his and Missy's relationship to Clara, but it would have to be when her heart was less heavy with a longing for P.E. and she was less likely to start a fight- a fight that she would never win. As much as he loved Clara, she would be annihilated by Missy if she ever tried to take her on. Given the state of Clara and Missy's current relationship, the Doctor had chosen to keep any contact he'd had with Missy following her apparent death discreet.

Discreet it had been. So discreet, in fact, that the Doctor wasn't sure if it had ever actually happened. There had been the occasional, fleeting conversation on some planet somewhere or another. Later on, conversation seemed to stop all together and a wave or knowing glance was their only form of contact. Then it all went quiet, radio silence descending. Discreetness never was her forte, and silence, for this length of time at least, was definitely not like her. So his concern had steadily started to grow. When he saw her goading a crowd, winding Clara up and killing Daleks, though he had been reassured, somewhat. Her recent discreetness probably meant that she had been conspiring some sort of universe-wide domination rather than falling into self-destruct mode. Of course, a universal domination plot was concerning but nothing compared to Missy in self-destruct mode. The Doctor remembered those periods of her life far too well.

The Doctor had been hoping to see her and have a chance to talk to her properly after leaving Skaro. When they had been in the graveyard, she had seemed so genuine when she begged for her friend back. In that moment all the chaos she'd brought about and hurt she had caused fell away, he wanted to embrace her and reassure her that all he wanted was his friend back too. Of course, with her, there was always the high possibility that it was a trick, a mere step in another one of her elaborate plans. But this time something had felt different and he'd been determined to broach the subject with her. He'd had it all planned out, after dropping Clara off home, where she would have marking or planning or both to be distracted by, he would set off with the sole purpose of finding Missy. The Doctor was loathed to say that he wanted them to have a hearts to hearts, but they were in dire need of something. However, as always with her, she ruined it at the last minute. Trying to trick him into killing Clara was a new low for even her and he had been so angry with her. So. Angry. He cursed his own naivety, she didn't want her friend back and she was just as evil as she always had been. Now weeks had passed, or was it months? He wasn't sure, but he did know that his anger was now subsiding and his concern was once again growing. She had to be okay, she always landed on her feet. Being sure of her unrivaled survival abilities, however, didn't stop him worrying and every time anyone had tried to contact him he'd hoped it was her. It never was, though.

That was until 2am this morning, when she had rocked up at the Tardis door looking more than a little disheveled, her eyes revealing that she was even more unhinged than she had been when they last met. The Doctor looked her up and down and, judging by her appearance, guessed she had been using some more of her 'cheap and nasty' time travel. He sighed. Where was her Tardis? Well, that was just one of many questions he had for her. She looked like she'd been in the wars, nothing new there then. She probably started the war. But this time she looked tired, hurt almost. There was something different going on here. He didn't know what to do first: hug her, kiss her or kill her. Any remaining anger he felt towards her had left him when she stepped before him in this state. What was he going to say, to do? It didn't matter, in the end she spoke before he was even able to formulate a sentence in his head.

"Oh do close your mouth, dear" he'd obviously been staring more than he thought. "You've seen me look worse than this. Now, what does a girl have to do to get a cup of tea?" she asked it so casually, as though she didn't look like she'd just lost a war with all the evils of the universe and hadn't caused him months of emotional turmoil. "Where have you... what happ... What do you want?" He struggled to formulate the correct question and wasn't completely happy with the one he had settled on. It had sounded too harsh, too accusing. He wanted to open up a conversation not accuse her of the inevitable trouble she had gotten into this time. "Oh don't act like you're not a teensy weensy bit pleased to see me!" She gestured her hands in her usual exaggerated manner but looked faint and lost her footing from her sudden exertion of energy. In an attempt to regain her superiority she tapped her head, eyes maddening by the second, and waggled her finger at him exclaiming "because I know you have been thinking about me. That whole telepathic thing, Doctor, you can't hide from me!" She was right, he couldn't. But she couldn't hide from him and right now he knew that this wasn't going the way she had planned. She was acting like a cornered wild animal and if he didn't diffuse this situation soon, she was going to snap. So after a little thought he carefully approached her and said softly "I'm more than a bit pleased to see you. I think me and you need to have a little chat. Come and sit down, I'll get you a cup of tea." Her face softened and for the first time he saw just how tired she really was. However, that didn't stop her having a sarcastic snipe at him "are you going to try your righter than right martyr act with me? Because I'm not one of your pretty little Damsels in Distress." The Doctor chuckled and rolled his eyes, she never could accept help or let anyone else have the last word. "Yes, yes. I know, you're The Mistress. You don't need any help from anyone in the entire universe, so you're not about to accept it from me. But you will accept a cup of tea. Milk and three sugars, isn't it?" The Doctor queried, raising his eyebrows and watching as she laid her head back, stretching her feet out onto the book-laden coffee table and giving him a thumbs up before closing her eyes. He sighed and rolled his eyes, at this rate she wouldn't be awake long enough to have her tea- let alone tell him what the bloody hell was going on.