AN – This is meant to be a bit scatter-brained. I imagine this is what Missy is a little like.
She just wanted her old friend back.
She always wondered, after her newest regeneration into this…haggard woman at best, as she tells herself and no one else, if this body was just reaching. Reaching to be held up to the standards of all the Doctor's companions. There was that Martha girl. Young, with chocolate skin that was radiant with rich oils and youth – she had energy.
She looked…desirable.
The girl the Doctor dragged around now was stunning. Naturally. Only the best for her Doctor. Clara was just what he needed, perhaps too good of a match. And her body. Short hair riddled in highlights, big doe eyes and a figure of a petite princess. Sometimes the Mast- Missy wondered why she had to go and choose an attractive human companion for him. Why not a ragged old thing like the disgrace of a body she had now.
Even the low self – esteem four eyed scientist girl looked better than she did. Low ponytail be damned, the skin was fresh and taunt. No wrinkles around the eyes and neck, like Missy felt every day. And the lab rat was probably hiding a decent figure underneath that plain white lab coat. Missy had watched her as she concentrated on her computer toys. Hair a mess, not much make up on. It was a shame.
Humans that have beauty wasted it. Or worse, used it.
Missy wondered. She wondered if she had a young face if the Doctor would like her more. It seemed more likely. Even with the aged face the Doctor had now, he surrounded himself with beautiful people and faces. And before then, the Doctor himself was young and attractive. With styled hair and fitted suits. Mr. Pinstripes had been perfect, with his sharp cheekbones and wiggling hair. The Master hadn't looked too bad himself at the time. He hadn't been dashing either.
But now, with a sex change and some half decent hair, Missy tried. She got a lovely dress and coat tailored to her every feminine curve. Foundation that filled in every pore, penciled in eyebrows, come-hither red lips and extremely contoured cheeks. She did it all for the Doctor.
After that steamy kiss, she thought he would understand. She thought for a split second, when he laid his hand on her chest, he knew and saw her for who she was. That he appreciated the lengths she went to for him. She changed for him. She changed bodies. She changed goals. She made him an army. She made him a Missy for a companion.
But always, always.
Clara, Clara, Clara.
Young, young, young.
Not the Master, Not the Master.
So she killed the young lab rat woman for that and killed the tall blonde agent as well. Kill them all. That will do it.
But not Clara.
No, the Doctor wouldn't even let Clara kill Missy. Wouldn't want to stain that soul.
It made Missy sick. Sad mainly – but sick as well.
So there they stood, the Doctor and the Master, just like old times. Only with the Doctor aiming to kill the Master, not the other way around. The irony.
Why couldn't the Doctor just see Missy as someone worth of his friendship once more? The last two Timelords in the universe – they were friends once, a sweet, sweet time ago. Centuries ago, they ran and giggled around the fields of Gallifrey. They whispered secrets and crushes to each other. They cried and laughed together. They reassured each other in times of doubt, especially in the Academy. One time, the Doctor even pushed the Master into a little creek a little ways from his home in a fight. But the Doctor immediately sobbed his apologies and they went right back to their playful ways. Why not now? Was it because they were old now? Why? Just once more, she just wanted him to –
"Say something nice."
AN – In no way do I think Michelle Gomez is aged or anything, I think she's beautiful. I just liked the idea of writing Missy to have some body dysmorphia.