Special thanks to my SingoftheLionandLamb for the story idea.
Disclaimer: I only own my writing.
The Doctor poked his head through the TARDIS doors to check the environment in which he'd landed. A quick glance told him that this was definitely not the tiny, practically uninhabited moon that he'd been planning to visit. With a quizzical look, he popped back inside to read the scanner. Just as he'd suspected, it read "EARTH. PARIS, FRANCE. JULY 2015."
"No, no, no!" The Doctor whirled around the console, speaking to himself as he'd become accustomed to doing when Clara was away. "This is not my destination. Why are you telling me it's my destination? Quit saying it's my destination!"
However, his insistence on this fact did not make the word "DESTINATION" disappear from the screen. The Doctor knocked the monitor a few times, causing the TARDIS to make a low grumbling sound in protest.
"Fine!" he sighed, exasperated. "You want me to go, I'll go! What exactly is so life-threatening about twenty-first century Paris, anyway?"
By now, the Doctor should have known to avoid saying such things, because no sooner had he stepped out of his machine than he came face to face with the last person he'd expected to see, arguably the most dangerous person he had ever known. He now understood why the TARDIS had taken him here, and he was all at once terrified and exhilarated. Because even though he understood that death and destruction inevitably followed in her wake, he couldn't stop himself from being happy to see her, and he despised himself for this fact.
"Well, well, well," Missy cooed, beginning to circle him like a vulture eyeing its prey. "It took you long enough to show up. I thought the threat of alien invasion would be enough to catch your attention, but when you didn't come running, I'd just about decided to keep my promise."
"Is that why I was brought here?" the Doctor asked, annoyed. "You wanted to get my attention, so you threatened to invade?"
"Well how else was I supposed to get ahold of you?"
"You do happen to be one of the few people in the universe who knows the TARDIS's phone number."
"Bo-ring," Missy sang, taking a big step that brought her a little bit too close to the TARDIS for the Doctor's comfort. He leaned against the side to block the possibility of her intrusion.
"Okay, fine. You've got my attention. Now what exactly do you want?"
She made a face of mock innocence. "Does there have to be an occasion? Can't I just enjoy a nice evening in Paris with my husband?"
The Doctor couldn't help but blush at this expression, but there was no way he'd let Missy see its effect on him. "I am not your husband!" he said, perhaps a bit too defensively. "And I am NOT playing a part in whatever little plan you're trying to lure me into. This is an extremely important, highly-populated city, and I won't let you destroy it."
"Well then, if I'm such a dangerous 'psychopath,'"—here, she made air quotes around the word—"it wouldn't be the best idea to just leave me here alone, now would it? But if you really want to leave, fine. There are plenty of people here for me to play with." She looked around to demonstrate her point. "Like him." She pressed a button on her handheld device, and the man she had indicated was disintegrated into a puff of smoke.
"No!" the Doctor shouted, rushing forward in a vain attempt to fix the situation. But of course, there was nothing to be done.
"Or her," Missy said, pointing at a nearby woman who was now watching their every move with petrified horror.
However, before Missy could kill the innocent passerby, the Doctor snatched the device from her hand. "No more!" he yelled.
But then he stopped. Just a moment before, he had been seething with anger and disgust and desperation, but now, looking at Missy's face, all those pointless emotions seemed to melt away. There was no trace of malice on her features, no hint of the usual arrogance that usually radiated from every aspect of her being. For one fleeting second, her true intents were exposed, betrayed by her countenance. In that instant, she wasn't the murderous villain who had slain numerous races with the wave of her hand; she wasn't the monster who had destroyed whole planets for fun. She was Missy, the Mistress, the Master; she was his best friend back home on Gallifrey, and she was the person who had kissed him not long ago in the 3W mausoleum. She was Missy, and he was the Doctor. And while it was always probable that she had hatched some crazy scheme to destroy the City of Love, it was also possible that she was really, truly lonely, wanting nothing more than to wander Paris with her best and only friend. He could never condemn her for that.
All this passed through the Doctor's mind in a fraction of a second. After taking a deep breath and pocketing her controller, he agreed to her terms. "Fine," he said, gentler now. "You're right. This city would be safer with someone to monitor you."
It was the best he could do, the best attempt at an apology and the most painless way he could think of to agree to her terms. He hated the fact that she knew that she could manipulate him into doing anything simply by killing a few people she deemed to be unimportant. Because even if he was just playing into her hand, he would never stop trying to save the people she endangered.
"Excellent," Missy smiled deviously.
Oh no, the Doctor immediately thought. That's never good. He gulped, but it was too late to back out now. Missy grabbed his hand and pulled him alongside her.
Already, the sun had set below the horizon, leaving the city in a twilit haze of glowing street lights and warm, inviting buildings. The summer breeze drifted through the air, brushing past them as they hurried on their way to an unknown destination. Smells wafted from every quaint little roadside café, but Missy passed each one as if it was insignificant. She obviously had something specific in mind.
Finally, after several blocks of patient silence while being dragged along by a mass-murderer, the Doctor decided to ask, "Where exactly are we going?"
"It's a surprise!"
The excitement in her voice was even less reassuring than he'd expected it to be. After all, the only things that tended to excite her involved some imminent danger to him. He quickly assessed her attire for any trace of a weapon.
She was wearing a Victorian style dress, same as always. It didn't appear to have any secret compartments or pockets, but he couldn't be too sure about that. Still, he'd already confiscated her controller. Around her wrist, she wore a vortex manipulator. He wasn't entirely sure how she'd gotten that, but he couldn't justify taking it away from her; it was just transportation, after all. He gave her figure another, closer glance, scrutinizing every feature. Her hair was piled atop her head in an admittedly beautiful arrangement. It was elaborate, but not quite elaborate enough to hold a gun or anything of the like. And the way it framed her face seemed to give off a sort of glow when contrasted with the shine of the street lamps.
"Eh-hem." Missy cleared her throat, shaking the Doctor from his analysis. "Get a good look?" she asked.
"I wasn't—that's not what I—I mean—Shut up." It was the best he could do under the circumstances. As he stammered on, Missy's devious—and a bit flirtatious, he couldn't help but note—smirk grew wider and wider.
However, in all of his embarrassment, the Doctor just now noticed that they had stopped walking. Before them stood a fairly old-looking building that overlooked the water passage behind them. If this place had looked beautiful in the daytime, then it was absolutely breathtaking at night. The way the light caught the water made the reflections dance with activity, a sharp contrast to the calm little structure that the Doctor gathered to be an old house.
"Is this where you were taking me?" he asked, gazing up at the dark windows that looked rather cold compared to the soft glow of the other houses on the block. "This is the surprise?"
Missy put her hands on her hips sarcastically, as if she couldn't believe that the Doctor would assume such a thing. "Well of course this isn't the surprise. The surprise is inside. Although, you'll have to go in to find out what it is."
She motioned toward the door, gesturing for him to enter. However, he didn't move. "How long have you known me?"
"Oh, a little while."
"Then you should know that I don't enter mysterious houses at the request of murderers."
She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh Doctor, believe me, if I really wanted to kill you, I would have done it already."
She had a point there. Generally, she was pretty upfront about wanting him dead. "I thought you said you wanted an evening out in the city." He was running out of excuses. Now was the time to start grasping at straws.
"Yes, we are in fact out and in the city. Just go into the house."
"You first."
"Fine!" It was amazing that after so many years, the Doctor still managed to sound like a stubborn child half of the time.
As per his request, Missy walked up to the door and pushed it open. She turned back to look at him with her signature "I-told-you-so" face. To further press her point, she stepped into the house, once again turning back to look at him.
The Doctor sighed in resignation. If there was any danger here, it at least didn't appear to be immediate, so he followed her into the house.
As soon as he was inside, Missy turned on the lights, revealing one of the most ornate interiors he had ever seen. Practically everything was lined in gold or silver or some precious stone or another, and paintings hung from every exposed surface of the wall. Some of them he even recognized as famous works of art that had been missing for some time.
"What is this place?" the Doctor asked, awestruck.
"Do you like it?" she asked. "It's just something I threw together."
The Doctor's mouth hung open as he stared around at the beauty of it all. Missy reached up a hand to close it for him, and he shook his head in annoyance. "Would you like full the tour?" she asked. "I'll warn you, it does take quite a bit of time."
"It looks so small," he noted.
"Oh, it is." His confused look was all the encouragement she needed to continue. "In fact, I could show you every room in this house in just a couple of minutes, but we might take a bit longer at one room in particular."
The Doctor, ever the cosmic child, did not catch on. "Why, is there something in the kitchen? Is it going to try to kill me? I should've known."
"Not quite," she smiled with that same evil smile that he had learned to fear. Now, she began to walk slowly toward him in a way that was almost menacing. The Doctor instinctively backed up until he was pressed against the wall. She had him pinned, and there was nowhere for him to go. "You see, the kitchen's on your right, the living room on your left, but the bedroom," she began, grabbing onto his lapels, "is just down this hallway."
Even he couldn't miss a point made this obviously. He understood exactly what she was implying, and he was surprised to find himself actually considering it for a moment, even though he'd just seen her kill a man not one hour earlier. Eventually, though, he came to his senses.
"Wait, wait, wait," he said, breaking free of her grasp. "So this is all you wanted? You called me to Paris for… this?" He waved his hand around in an attempt to illustrate his point, but it just served to show how uneasy he truly was.
"I'm not always trying to kill you, you know," she stated, somewhat offended by his rejection. "Sometimes I take the day off."
"Yes, and what happens tomorrow, then? You'll go right back to killing people, committing genocide."
He realized a fraction of a second too late that he may have struck a nerve there. "Oh, you're a fine one to talk about genocide, aren't you? Tell me, have you actually found Gallifrey yet, or are they still recovering from the last time you were there?"
"You tell me! You're living proof that they're still out there somewhere. They're still alive because of me." He had to keep telling himself this. He didn't know if it was a lie or not, but even if it was, it was easier to believe than the truth.
"Yes! I'm alive!" She grabbed his hand and, in the same way she had done in the 3W mausoleum, placed it over her hearts. "Flesh and blood. A Time Lady. From Gallifrey. One of your own kind. I'm here and alive, and you're here and alive, and for the first time in too long, we are both here and alive at the same time. You don't know if there are others out there anymore, but you know me. Tomorrow we can go back to playing the good ol' cat-and-mouse, but tonight, why not take a break with me?" When he didn't answer for a moment, she added, "What do you say?"
He looked into her eyes, but there was something skeptical in his features. He was searching for any hint that might betray her true intentions, anything that could incriminate her. However, he was met with nothing but honesty. That was probably the most stunning thing of all. It was a rare occasion when the Mistress decided to offer the gift of truth.
As if to solidify her point, Missy allowed the tendrils of her mind to seep into his, reaching out to him in a telepathic fog of emotion. In it, he saw frustration, loneliness, desperation, and… homesickness? No, it wasn't her home on Gallifrey that she missed. He saw his face. Not his face now, but his face as a child. He saw the days they had spent together, getting into trouble at the Academy and exploring the fields as children. She was homesick for the days they used to share.
This was all the Doctor needed to see. He himself knew what it was like to be lonely, probably better than anyone else in the universe. And one point that he was forced to concede was that Missy seemed to be the only person who could possibly understand what he was going through. She was a villain, true; but she was also his best friend, the one person he would always love, through and through. The one person who could never truly desert him. If trying to kill each other was the only way they knew how to flirt, then so be it. But for now, they were static. For now, they could enjoy this little break.
The Doctor couldn't help but give in to her. He pressed his lips to hers, and suddenly his back was against the wall again, as her hands desperately pulled at his lapels with a sort of manic hunger.
When the Doctor was finally able to come up for air, he sputtered out, "Where did you say the bedroom was, again?"
"Right this way," she gasped, pulling him roughly along with her.
The next morning, the Doctor awoke to see the sunlight shining in through the bedroom window. With a contented sigh, he rolled over to wrap his arm around… empty space?
Now, he sat up, alert. He looked around, but just as he had feared, Missy was already gone. Further inspection told him that all his clothes were gone too, save a single pair of TARDIS blue boxers. As he slowly began to realize that the TARDIS key was in the pocket of his trousers, he couldn't help but make a frustrated noise that was halfway between a groan and a growl. On the bedside table was a single note:
Game on.
-Missy
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