A/N: Sorry, certain things about this bothered me, so I rewrote parts :D I've only seen series 1 and most of series 2, so it's not canon xD

"Where am I?" She asked, her blue eyes scanning wildly around the inside of the ship. The Doctor closed the door behind her.

"Inside my box. Or the Tardis as it's called," he informed her cheerily, walking over to the controls and leaning up against them proudly. "I'm not so crazy now, am I?"

Everything was so different, so unlike anything she'd ever seen. Even for someone who'd never known an education, she knew it wasn't human. "Instinct tells me you're crazy, so yeah, that hasn't changed," she retorted, walking carefully around the inside of the wall. "It's bigger in here? Or have we shrunk?"

"The first, it's bigger, though nice to see that you're a thinker," he grinned. "I've even got other rooms. It's fantastic."

"Right," she felt sick, but strangely, the sights before her didn't bother her. "I believe the Mars comment now. You're not human, are you?" The messy haired young woman was already sure of this fact, but she wanted to hear the words come from his lips. Something about his voice was enticing. This was odd. She had never found men enticing, just obligations.

"Ni I'm not, and thank you," he beamed. "I'm the Doctor by the way. Just the Doctor. No other names, but you can call me just Doctor if you like."

"Sure."

This startled him and he stood up. "No questions, no demanding another name?"

Missy raised her eyebrow. "I live on the streets. Do you honestly think 'The Doctor' is the weirdest I've heard?"

"So why were you out there anyways?" the Doctor asked, turning and tinkering with a random switch on the controls. It didn't need to be played with or fixed, but he needed something to do with his hands.

She sat on the rail, looking down through the grated floors. "Sometimes there's no options."

He looked up at her. "There's always an option."

Missy scoffed. "You have no idea. Have you ever lived on the streets?" Before he could answer, she shook her head. "Believe me, Doctor, there was no way out. No options. I don't want to talk about it."

"But I clearly do want to talk about it, and yet you're still sitting here," he pointed out, looking back to her.

She shrugged.

"We haven't left. All I'd have to do is open the door and I could take you home," he added.

"But you wouldn't," she crossed her arms. At the moment, he was easy to read, yet difficult at the same time. No one had ever taken an interest in her. Why would they start now? Why an alien of all things? "Besides, I don't have a home. A home is a place you're supposed to feel welcome, and safe. I certainly don't feel welcome or safe on the streets. Not a box in an alley when you're younger, or a park bench now." Her eyes lowered back to the floor while she cursed herself. She had never felt ashamed or pitied herself before, and she wasn't going to start now. A girl had to do what a girl had to do to survive.

"Welcome to my life," he nodded sympathetically. "I'm usually neither welcomed or safe."

Looking up at him sharply, she glared. "You have no idea. Don't even try to think that you know what my life is like. You don't. You never will. And you have a home."

The Doctor lowered his eyes to the control panel as he ran his hand over the random swithes and buttons longingly. "My home was destroyed along with my people. I'm the last of Gallifrey."

That was an answer she hadn't been expecting. She made a note to herself to ask what Gallifrey was like at a better time. If there was a better time. "But you still have this… thing," she looked around the ship. "You still have your box."

"We're not so different then, are we?" He asked, looking up at her with a weak smile.

"We are so. You talk funny."

Rolling his eyes, the Doctor shook his head. "I don't have an accent. You have an accent. American…"

"Canadian," she corrected, stopping him abruptly. The Doctor noted to himself that he had found a sore spot. Right, never mix up the two nationalities. "For a being who knows oh so much, you should know enough to not get them mixed up. They are two separate countries, two separate cultures, though very similar."

"For a girl of the streets, you certainly know enough as well," The Doctor pointed out, noting her pride of her country and the level at which she spoke. There was no answer, only silence. "So what about your mum or dad?"

"I said I didn't want to talk about it."

"And I said I did. Leave if you don't. Explore the Tardis. Just don't touch anything!" He ordered sternly, but she remained on her perch on the railing. "Interesting. You still stay here."

"So sue me. I've been alone too long," she shot back.

He grinned. "I don't think I could sue you. The Earth courts wouldn't even begin to understand what we were talking about." He widened his eyes in mock surprise. "Tardis? What's a Tardis?"

"What is a Tardis?" She asked, finally giving into her curiosity and looking around once more.

"My box." He did his best not to laugh at the look she shot at him. "It stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. Tardis."

"Tardis," the brown haired girl echoed, nodding to herself. "So it can go anywhere then? Any time?"

"Yes," he grinned proudly, of both the Tardis and this girl. She caught on fast, and she wasn't afraid.

"Good. Make it so I wasn't born."

His smile fell, dropped like a scalding object to the floor, instantly. "No. I can't."

"Why not?" She asked angrily, her grip on the rail tightening. "This thing can go anywhere!"

"I can't change time like that," he told her coldly. "You were born. You have a purpose."

She glared once more but seemed to be mulling something over. Sliding off the rail, she walked slowly over to the Doctor with a small smirk upon her face. "You want to know what my purpose was?" She asked coolly, allowing her voice to become silky. "My purpose, Doctor," she stood as close to him as she could get, yet still advancing as she leaned forward, making him have to bend backwards, "was to seduce men. All men, any men, give them the night of their lives and collect a pay check in the morning. Or right after. Sometimes before."

He gulped, and she smirked more.

"See?" She asked breathily. "I was taught to do only one thing." Advancing her head even further, she kept her mouth right by his ear. "This is why I don't want to live. What good can a girl like me bring the world?" She pulled back, yet keeping their faces close.

He started to speak, but instead their mouths collided in a kiss.

"I'm sorry," he apologised as they broke away, both panting. "I didn't mean to… kiss you like that. At all. I didn'tmean to kiss you at all," he stamered, bewildered by what had happened.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Neither did I. I had no intention of kissing you like that, accent box boy. You're not my type. My type had a check or cash alreaqdy in their hands. Preferrably cash."

"You're the one with the accent, and I like my box," the Doctor insisted again, looking away , obviously thinking about something. "I'm also 900 years your senior, so don't call me boy…" He murmured, his mind racing.

"What's going on?" Missy asked, quickly sensing that something wasn't right.

Gently pushing her aside, he looked around the controls of the Tardis, walking slowly and examining everything. "Something's here. It just took control of both of us."

"Was kissing me really that bad?" She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Ye… no," He stuttered. "No, I… well yes…no! Um, I just didn't intend on kissing you. I'm not a love or family kind of guy, that's all." While digging himself in a deeper hole, he looked up to the roof. "I'm not lying, if that's what you're implying. There was something here and it took control of us both. It could do it again."

"Ew, so I'd end up kissing your funny mouth again?"

"Or mor… Funny mouth?" He whipped around to look at her.

"It must be. Listen to how you talk!"

"Have you never heard a British person before? I do not talk funny!" He defended himself. "You, little Canadian girl, are the funny one. Listen to yourself speak sometime."

She laughed, and he couldn't help but want her laugh to continue. It was so sweet. "Yeah, listen to yourself…" She stopped and lurched back. "Are we flirting? We're flirting. I don't want to flirt. I don't do flirting!"

The Doctor's trance seemed to have broken as well. "Something is controlling our minds, putting thoughts there and using us like puppets."

"I don't suppose it'll get easier to fight off, will it?" Missy asked, rubbing the nape of her neck and contemplating bolting out the door.

"No," the Doctor answered grimly. "If we can't stop it, it'll only become harder, until we don't know when we're being controlled and when we're not."

Missy pursed her thin lips together. "Awesome."