A: Hello, guys! This is my version of what might happen between this two when the Doctor was blind. Is this story Twissy? Yep, you can say so, but I tried to hold onto the original spirit of these two, so... Yep, basically, Twissy. Not a big fan of it, I have a crazy friend who is mostly like Missy and... well, let's just say, poor Doctor and poor me. Enjoy the story!

P.S. Yep, still having an exam period right now.

WARNING: the first chapter contains angst-ish!


The Doctor is going downstairs to the base of the university where he works. His steps are slow and thoughtful, his hands clench to the railings in case he'll fall down. Damn the man who invented spiral staircases and thought they are easy to use! The Doctor has a bag under his armpit, its edges are hanging down clumsily and rather dangerously, almost dropping the bag content. He isn't aware of it, though. His thoughts are occupied with another thing to worry about.

The Doctor isn't sure whether he should or should not do the thing he's going to do in his state. Actually, he isn't sure about anything that much nowadays. If Nardole knew what he was going to do, he wouldn't approve it even slightly. And still the Doctor thinks he owes her this.

Not like the vault will produce its own food in the near future.

The lock isn't easy to open, he misses some levers and buttons hence he has to repeat the combination again. Then he feels the bag sliding down, but he loses the moment and the bag is on the floor; great, now the food must be all over the floor.

'What takes you so long there, old man?' the Doctor hears irritated sounds from inside the vault.

'Nothing!' he roars immediately in response. He's on his knees, picking up sandwiches and packages of crisps and other fast food. He doesn't like her choice of food but he's not the prisoner here. She is. Meaning she's the one who chooses it.

All things are in the bag, he can proceed. The door is nearly open, but he feels a nervous cold inside his chest. He hesitates before pushing one last button.

The thing is she doesn't know everything yet. He's been delaying with giving her another visit after what happened with his eyes about three weeks ago. Why so? After all, she's his friend and the closest being in the Universe, he can share these things with her. He shared many intimate things with her in the past, not like she used them against him. Why not? Frankly, he was afraid. It's not like losing your right hand, or your left toe; it's an eyesight. If you don't have one hand, you always have the other; if you don't have a toe, you always have two whole legs. Being blind, you have no alternatives. Being blind makes you more vulnerable and more naked than you've ever been in your life.

'Are you going to stand there all night, Doctor?' she asks him, gently rolling the 'r' in his name.

He shakes his head. He has no way back now, she expects him to enter. What would she think if he simply left?

'The door was jammed. I'm coming in!' he answers her, opening the doors.

As the Doctor's entering, he hears Missy playing the piano. And as the Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star goes by, he's getting an increasing feeling of a cold invisible arm gently stroking his spine. Sonic shades only dimly show him her sitting posture next to the musical instrument. Maybe she's looking at him all the time and he doesn't know it. Maybe she's not looking at him. Maybe she can feel his vulnerability. Maybe she already knows.

'Where's your guitar?!' she asks him, not stopping playing the melody.

'S–sorry?' he puts the bag near an armchair.

'Last time, I told you to bring it. You were more than happy then, remember?' she tsks when he doesn't give her a hint of recognition and maybe, just maybe, she rolls her eyes. 'Said you'll bring on cool shades and a T-shirt. Promised me a musician fight. And then you disappeared for three weeks! Three weeks! I've been drinking only tea and I can't say for sure if it didn't damage my brains. So-o-o. Shades and T-shirt – checked! Where is my promised fight and where the hell have you been?'

He feels awkward under her possible stare. There's something in her voice, something hidden in her words that could be just her concern for him.

'Ah, don't sound like that!' Doctor pushes himself into the armchair.

Missy stops playing. 'Like what?'

'Like you care!'

'But I do care,' she sniffs offensively. And adds: 'For myself. I guess you brought the food, right? Your good girl is quite peckish today.'

The Doctor takes the bag and holds it to her. He can hear her moving to him and in mere seconds she takes the bag with a swooshing sound. But instead of taking a peek at what's inside of it, she stands in front of him for no reason. He tries not to give out himself, holding every muscle on his face.

She sighs heavily and puts her arm on his shoulder. 'Okay, okay, I care for you. Don't give me a pout. It was only a joke! Ha-ha-ha. I'm still learning how to be good, alright?' she sits in a chair next to him taking out the bag content. She hums in approving way. 'You haven't told me where you've been.' Missy takes out a bag of crisps and opens it.

Doctor gulps silently, scratching his unshaven cheek. 'Nowhere.'

'What?!' she yelps. 'You've been here all the time, upstairs, teaching your little monkeys how to be good? And didn't pay me a visit? That's really cruel of you, Doctor. You deserve to be punished.'

'I needed some time to be alone, okay?' he doesn't lie to her. 'It could have taken longer.'

'Thanks for not forgetting me?' she mocks him. Something hits his head and falls on his knees. A crisp.

'Sorry.'

'Well, you should be. Here I thought you've finally died and I can break free shamelessly at last. But no! You're alive, you just needed time to be alone. You're Mister No Fun. And talking about fun, I'm bored! Let's play the piano together!'

'Maybe you want to eat first? You said you were drinking nothing but a tea…'

'It's good to know that you've actually been listening to me, Doctor, but I'm really bored! C'mon, chop, chop!' she takes his hand and leads him to the instrument. 'There is a thing I've wanted to play but it's for four hands. And I'm not a mutant as far as you can see.'

Doctor exhales. He doesn't have a chance to just sit and talk to her now, does he? It's always been otherwise in the walls of the vault: he is the one who leads and teaches, and she is the one who listens to his gibberish and tries to learn something. Not today, apparently.

But the feeling of deep anxious increases within him. As he's led by her hand in the utmost darkness, he realises that the secret won't be a secret anymore if he intends to continue playing her games. She may not know about his blindness now, but she will in a near future when he'll stumble on something or look at her in the wrong direction.

'I don't know how to play the piano,' he comes up with an excuse and spreads it out.

'Don't worry, I'll fix it.' Missy's pulling him down, presumably on the bucket. The Doctor has nothing to do but obey. 'You're far better apprentice than I am.'

He feels her sitting next to him, and she just sits there, doing nothing. Is she looking at him, observing every inch of his face? Or what? What's she doing right at this moment? Does she know already? Did she guess?

The Doctor feels his shades pulled off of his nose, and now he can't even say where are the piano keys; he tries to catch his glasses in the air, but they're gone. The panic increases, he's lost, he's naked, and she's beside him, and she will know very soon what happened, and he just realises that he's not ready to expose this vulnerability of him, not yet, not ever.

'Give them back!' he commands, a note of panic escapes his control.

'They will only distract you. Remember you took away my quantum shredder once? You told me the same words of wisdom. Don't worry, I leave them here,' Missy says, and he hears a clatter somewhere on his right, where she's sitting. 'Happy?' she doesn't wait for his answer. 'Good. Now, see this thing?' She is pointing at something, she has to, but where? 'This thing is called "sheets". Not like you, guitarists, know about it much. Sheets. Understood? Perfect! We're ready for the difficult part.'

Her hands cover his, and he knows he's lost. Not because her grip is gentle and her nails scratching his fingers lightly, but because he has no way back. He looks down, presumably where the piano keys are, and keeps his head that way.

Missy leads him to the keys and starts gently pushing fingers to get the sound out. The melody is easy and he thinks he can repeat it in case she'll ask him to do so. She doesn't, and the sounds he makes are magical despite his lack of awareness of what he's doing. The piano was never his instrument, it required too much attention and time, and he's not the man who has them. But now it doesn't look like a big problem to play it, even though he's blind.

'Repeat,' he hears her order, and she leaves his hands.

Missy starts to play her part of the melody, and it beautifully merges with his. Their link is powerful, his part is somewhat deep, grave and slow, her part is quick and mild like it's not she who plays the piano but a cat. The music they make is sad but brings determination and hope. It's kind, and the Doctor can't believe his ears that Missy would like to play something like this with him. It means something.

But then he feels that something's happened wrong with their melody. To be precisely, with his part. It's become much darker and even graver. He tries to fix this, but it only worsens and now it's tuneless. Missy stops playing. He too.

He doesn't look at her. How can he? Looking at her was always not the easiest task, and now, in his state!... He can't take it any longer, he just can't, but he's not sure she has to know this, he's not sure of many things these times.

'I'm blind,' Doctor murmurs, only trying on his tongue how it sounds. And it sounds awful, his mouth is dry and the back of his neck is colder than ever.

'Yes, you are!' Missy exclaims and pats his head. 'But don't criticise yourself too much, that part was really well-done, we're nothing without our mistakes…'

'I'm serious!' he sparks, hiding his face in his hands. His elbows lie on the keys, making the piano bass angrily. He's hyperventilating. Why can't she just see it? Why can't she notice it? 'I'm blind,' he breathes heavily. 'I've been blind for three weeks and it's hell, Missy. I always have to rely on Nardole's guide. He's insufferable! "No planets, sir!" "Look what happened to you last time, sir!" "No, just think what would happen if she knew, sir!" And he's right! He's always right! I'm blind, and I can do nothing about it! And it makes me crazy.'

She's silent for good minute, and he's aware she's observing him from a new point of view. He feels a wave of her hand before his nose, she's checking if what he told her is true. He wishes it wasn't.

'Tell me how it happened,' she asks him.

And so he tells.


A: Flames, criticisms, thoughts, emotions, swearings are all welcomed. Just because I might not like it, doesn't mean you are not allowed to share it.