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The Doctor awoke with a jolt, startled by a loud groan made by the TARDIS. That can't be good, he thought. Immediately, he sprang out of bed and rushed to Missy's room, and, upon finding it empty, cursed himself under his breath for ever trusting that woman in the first place.
Thinking logically, he decided that the best thing to do now would be to check the console room to see if it had sustained any damage. However, once he got there, he found that it looked exactly the same as he'd left it the night before. So what had caused the TARDIS to complain?
Slowly, he became aware of a noise coming from one of the corridors. It was a low rustling, as if someone was rifling through a cabinet or closet, trying to find something. He wasn't sure what that something was, but he was quite certain that any number of objects he had hidden away could potentially be very dangerous. So, wasting no time, he ran toward the source of the noise.
What he found was… unexpected. The noise was not coming from any hidden closet or long-forgotten armory, but from the kitchen. He now knew that there was probably nothing to be afraid of, yet he still peered in cautiously before entering.
Inside, Missy was searching through one of the many cabinets, obviously looking for something to eat. "What are you doing?" the Doctor asked. It was a rather redundant question, but he really just wanted to get her attention.
Much to the Doctor's dismay, she did not jump at the sound of his voice; obviously, he hadn't been as discreet as he'd thought. "I was hungry," she answered, without looking up from her occupation. "I was just trying to find something to eat, but your box doesn't seem to like me very much."
"That's because she remembers the Paradox Machine," he muttered under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," he answered quickly. "Why don't you just tell me what you want? Then I can get it for you."
"That would be fantastic –" At this point, she turned to look at him.
The Doctor, in his haste to find the problem, hadn't paid any attention to what he was wearing. But now, he looked down at his TARDIS blue boxers and white t-shirt, his cheeks getting redder by the second.
"I-I'll go change first," he sputtered out, turning to leave.
"No, no, it's fine!" Missy called, waving her hand dismissively. "I think you look lovely."
This little comment didn't help the Doctor's complexion. However, he reluctantly walked back into the kitchen. "Okay, what do you want?" His voice wasn't exactly cold, but it certainly wasn't friendly either. He still didn't know how much he could trust her.
"Surprise me," she answered, taking a seat at the table.
The Doctor pulled out eggs, bacon, and a frying pan. For several minutes, the only sound in the room was the sizzle of grease as he cooked. Then, he served up two plates, handing one to Missy and taking a seat across from her.
He tried not to look at her as they ate, yet her eyes seemed to be constantly glued to him. She watched his every move with the fascination of a young child. The Doctor had known her long enough not to be completely uncomfortable with this, but he still couldn't shake the sensation that he was merely prey being stalked by a fearsome predator.
"What are we doing today?" Missy finally asked, breaking the silence.
"Well, I am going to change, and then we are going to have a nice long chat in the library."
"About what?"
"You'll see." He tried to keep this as cryptic as possible. His plan was to probe her mind—both literally and metaphorically—in order to see whether or not she was telling the truth about this whole amnesia ordeal.
As he walked to his room, he found that she followed him like a lost puppy, keeping no more than two meters between them at all times. In fact, he even had to close the door in her face to keep her from following him while he changed. It might have actually been cute if the lost puppy hadn't been guilty of genocide.
Finally, they entered the library. The Doctor sat on one end of his favorite reading couch and motioned for her to sit at the other end. Of course, she decided that she'd rather sit as close to him as possible instead. He shifted uncomfortably, but nevertheless began his interrogation.
"So, you said that your first memory is waking up in your TARDIS." She nodded. "How did you know to pull the lever?"
Her eyes became unfocused now, as if she was trying to recall the exact moment. "I don't know. It just sort of felt… natural, like that's what I was supposed to do."
He couldn't deny that. After all, she'd probably pulled that lever so many times that it was instinct to her now. "And then you knocked on my door." Another nod. "Why four knocks?" At this, she just tilted her head slightly, looking at him in confusion. "When you knocked on my door, it was four quick knocks. Why that particular pattern?"
"I-I don't know," she stammered. "Is that important?"
"Do you hear the drums?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"The drums, do you still hear them beating in your head?"
She looked almost startled at this. "What drums?" This question was all the answer he required. Surely, even if this was a trick, she would have mentioned the drums if they were still there, still constantly beating out their signal.
"Never mind," he sighed. "It's not important." He decided to take a new approach. "Does the name 'Koschei' mean anything to you?"
He checked for any change in her expression, but there was none. "No. Should it?"
He thought about lying to her, about telling her that the name meant nothing, just an empty word. But he couldn't bring himself to do that. "Yes." His tone was soft and low.
For a long time after that, they just sat in silence, each watching the other for their reaction. The Doctor searched Missy's eyes for any sign of his friend, the one whose lifeless body he'd once held in his arms. He looked for traces of that person who would rather die than travel the universe with him. Because even if she was evil, she was still the closest thing he had to family.
As he examined her closely, he took this opportunity to simultaneously reach out to her telepathically. If she really had amnesia, perhaps it would hinder her telepathic abilities. The Master had always been very gifted in this regard, but maybe now her mental walls would relent.
The Doctor, far less skilled than his colleague, allowed the tendrils of his mind to seep out, only to be denied entrance to her thoughts and memories. Evidently, her affliction, whether real or feigned, did not hinder her telepathic performance in any way. Still, he knew enough about telepathy to know that, even if he couldn't access her mind, she should be able to feel his attempts to gain entry.
He also knew that physical contact enhanced his ability to reach out telepathically. So, he gently cupped her head in his hands, resting his forehead against hers as he tried again. However, he met with the same outcome. Her mental barriers were just too strong.
Only now did he happen to glance up. Missy's eyes had never left his, even at this short distance. Her cold blue eyes cut through him like a knife, not accusatory, but rather, inquisitive and somehow seductive. He gulped. Her lips were now dangerously close to his. It would have been so easy just to close the gap. Luckily, though, he didn't have to; for in the same instant that he had thought about it, she pressed her lips to his, a soft, chaste offering that he gratefully accepted.
When they broke apart, the Doctor lingered for a moment, unsure of what to do next. However, at that moment, he happened to glance up at the library clock, which gave the relative internal time aboard the TARDIS. What had seemed like mere minutes had actually been hours. He did have a tendency to lose track of time when using telepathy.
"Alright," he said more gently than he had addressed her in the past, "you probably need to get your rest now. You know where your room is, and you can help yourself to anything in the kitchen, just don't make a mess."
His tone may have been soft, but he certainly was not going to coddle her. He knew Missy could take care of herself, even if she only had her instincts to rely on. It wasn't his job to hold her hand through every step of her life.
With that, he retreated to his own room. He knew full well that Time Lords needed much less sleep than humans, but he'd picked up a few habits over the years, including sleeping nearly every night, if only for an hour or two. He closed the door and fell into his bed, trying to make sense of everything he'd discovered that day.
Missy pressed her ear to the Doctor's bedroom door. There was no movement, no sound other than his slow, even breathing. Perfect, she thought. In a manner that can only be described as gleeful, she skipped to the console room, quietly humming to herself.
First things first. She entered the TARDIS's destination programming, redirecting the randomizer to instead send them to a destination of her choosing, if ever the Doctor decided to use that setting. She typed in the desired coordinates, which, upon pressing the "random destination" button, would send them to a small planet in the Sixth Galaxy.
Now for the fun part. She twirled over to the door, opening it to find that her TARDIS was still there, awaiting her return. Just as she'd suspected, the Doctor had parked in the same spot as the night before, again making this all too easy for her.
This little plan of hers would undoubtedly take a bit of preparation, but to her, it would be worth it just to see the Doctor squirm. She couldn't help but laugh at how perfectly her scheme was falling into place. Without further ado, she stepped into her own ship, certain that she could be gone hours, yet return only five minutes after she had left. And the best part was that the Doctor would never know.
