Next chapter on the 23rd of February.
The vault doors open again and the Mistress stares at them, watching the man she used to know so well step through and into the light of her rooms.
There's something passionless about him like this, something hollowed out and empty.
He stands taller, sure, but he doesn't have the same irreverence he did before- that 'the universe is against me? Yeah- well the universe can shove it's problems right up its arse because I'm the Doctor and I will make things right!' attitude that he'd held before, always there from the first day he'd met him.
The Doctor had always been awkward- an obtrusive nail which people kept trying to hammer in and make fit. An oddball, bizarre.
But now it's taken from him.
He steps up to her room, types in the code, opens the door, steps inside.
She doesn't look away.
He stares back at her, eyes uncaring, and puts the plastic bag on the table before heading off to wherever is more important than her, the Mistress feels rage settle over her.
He closes the glass door behind him.
She will get him back.
How dare they take him from her?
The vault doors close.
She can't help but feel alone, with him being like this.
The Time Lady takes the paper box from inside the bag and flips it open, feeling the damp through the cardboard before the steam warms her face.
Battered fish and chips.
She's seen better.
It's not like she has a choice.
When she fixes everything she'll complain.
When he'll listen again.
She'll tell him how it feels.
Bill puts a plain paper cup down on the table, lid hiding the contents. The smell and steam coming from the small opening reveal it though.
The human shrugs, the movement seeming less awkward than it did last week even.
"Figured that he's probably not thinking beyond food and water. Used to barely manage to do that for himself- was always finding half-finished cups of a mixture of tea, coffee and hot chocolate everywhere." She pauses in her rambling as she sits down on the other seat, "Anyway. Don't know if you like coffee and it's probably not very good but it's something else, isn't it?" She asks.
The Mistress can't help the strange smile that forms on her face.
The new her feels warmth towards the human, it's a pull to intense gratitude and surprise. She still isn't used to being treated like this.
If she's honest with herself she hasn't been treated like this, even when she was taking over planets and blowing up stars.
Bill really cares.
Her hearts beat faster than they should and her smile grows.
She picks up the coffee cup to hide it. It's warm.
The coffee is terrible.
Missy doesn't care.
The Mistress wakes hyperventilating.
She knows this and yet the panic of the dream still clings.
She wraps her arms around herself, shedding the blankets, and tries to calm her breathing. She's okay. She's awake. She's here. She's alone so she's safe.
She's safe.
Her fingers feel desperate against her skin, clammy.
She shakes and forces her focus back to her breathing again.
In, two, three, four.
Out, two, three, four.
Her throat trembles but she manages to keep herself under control.
In, two, three, four.
Out, two, three, four.
She remembers a quiet night.
In, two, three, four.
Out, two, three, four.
Besides a stream.
In, two, four.
Out, two, four.
In the dark.
In, two, four.
The night.
Out, two, four.
There was a tree behind her.
In.
And she was sitting on grass, long grass.
Out.
And the moon had come out, like an oil slick under the right lighting, in greens and yellows and pinks.
In.
And it was only her, sitting alone in the quiet. There were people a short walk away, outside of her quiet, playing stringed instruments, drinking, laughing. She could join them- if she wanted to.
But she doesn't.
The Mistress slips back into sleep.
They sit on a set of chairs near one of the false windows, pushed close so that the Mistress' knee is touching Bill's leg at all times. The human's hand rests on her knee, still, warm.
The Time Lady appreciates the comfort which comes from it and the grounding presence.
"I've been trying to get my hands on a laptop or something to co-ordinate everyone with." Bill says, bringing the Mistress' focus back to her face. She grimaces, sighing in frustration.
"Trouble is that everything so much harder to come by now. It's like half of the world's culture just disappeared overnight." The human throws up her hands.
"It did, in a way." Missy says, quiet.
Bill's hand returns to the Time Lady's knee as she slumps forwards.
"Yeah. Sorry." She apologises again.
There's quiet for a while.
Then Bill sighs, shuffling closer still, taking the Mistress' hand like she derives some kind of comfort for the contact.
"I just. The world used to be so much more." She says, voice soft.
The Time Lady watches their hands too, feels the gentleness with which the human holds it and runs her thumb across the back of it.
It's warm.
"There used to be colour and spice and millions of different books in the library even though I never read them. You used to be able to just- hop on a plane to another country, well, basically, and it would feel so different. There were animals just, walking about, and the grass wasn't all the same length. Plants grew in the pavement and from rooftops and it was just. Chaos." Bill says, eyes shining and voice wobbling as she looks up at the Mistress.
"It was beautiful, beautiful chaos. Earth was this beautiful chaotic mess and I just- destroyed it for him." She says, breath trembling as she tries to wipe away her tears with one hand, the other gripping the Mistress' tightly now.
The Time Lady stares at the crying human, caught by her hand and breath stilled by her tears.
She doesn't know what to do with humans at all but this- crying- she's never tried to stop it before, never really wanted to stop it out of anything other than annoyance.
She slowly extends her other her and places it against Bill's shoulder. The Mistress licks her lips.
"It's not your fault. I would have done the same." She says after a moment.
The Time Lady isn't quite sure how it happens but she ends up wrapped around a bawling human and feels anything but disgust.
"We'll fix it, your Earth." The Mistress says.
She isn't sure why they are but she knows that the words are a promise.
The Mistress eats impatiently, mentally cursing the Doctor for choosing today of all days to watch her more closely than usual.
Her nerves are spiking, not helped by the anxiety that comes with her new memories telling her that she must have done something wrong, must have done something wrong, must have done something wrong.
The Time Lady clamps down on the panic, schooling her expression into something quieter, more neutral.
After what feels like hours- and it could be in this place where she can't feel time's ebb and flow, whispers a little piece of her mind- she finally finishes the probably microwaved porridge and hands back the spoon and pot to the Doctor, not meeting his gaze.
"Thank you." She offers awkwardly.
"That's okay." He replies, as if by rote.
There's something behind it she could swear- the way he looks at her when he says it.
She thinks about that for a long while.
The Mistress turns the page of her notebook, flicking back to a previous one and frowning.
No. She hadn't remembered that quite right.
She goes to tear it out but doesn't, instead turning to the next blank page and redrawing the diagram, remaking the notes, correcting and adding the details which might be important.
She'd fought the monks before but it had been through a haze of gore and bloodlust.
She isn't doing that this time.
She can't do that this time.
That's why it's important that she remembers exactly how their hierarchy works, who is connected to who and how that's signified.
Every culture has ways of displaying their ranks and every culture has a weakness in their ranks.
Where had the monks' been?
Their subjects aren't important enough to be their weak spots even if transmitting through only one living person is a stupid idea and she would take over a lot better than they could if she decided to do it their way- anyway.
What was it? Which part of their system is most able to fail?
How can she ensure it fails?
She's exhausted, she decides, lifting her head from the nest of blankets on the floor to see who is coming to visit today.
It's just Bill.
The Time Lady lets her head drop, sighing as the doors close.
"Hey- are you alright?" The human asks.
The Time Lady can't see her face. She forces herself to sit up.
"I'm just. Tired." The Mistress answers, feeling out of sorts to even admit it. Time Lords weren't supposed to get tired and she'd been getting so much sleep for the last fifty years that it shouldn't be an issue.
She can hear Bill whisper the code to herself as she opens the Mistress' cage.
Bill comes and crouches near her, smiling a little.
"Wow. Didn't think you guys did that." She says.
The Time Lady looks at her sharply but the human's expression is soft, amused, and she realises it's a joke.
"Unfortunately it happens sometimes." Missy complains, feeling a little more awake already.
"Now. The monks power system has several different levels…" She begins, ignoring the smile which slowly blooms on her face.