Chapter 5
The first few months after the discovery were not easiest for Missy. The whole concept of doing good simply by doing it and being a selfless and better person for the sake of others and herself seemed at the same time clearer and diffuse in her mind.
The idea that she did not deserve that little miracle growing inside her accompanied her for hours on end. Lying at night on her narrow uncomfortable bed, she stared at the shadows of the ceiling trying to imagine what the Doctor would tell her.
'It's a new chance. This baby will bring you the hope you need to keep improving.' She imagined him sitting in his favorite armchairt inside the safe, watching her with attention and affection, saying the words with his strong Scottish accent.
In that swirl of emotions, weeping had become common to her, but something she did in the shadows, hidden from everyone's eyes, especially Nardole's.
She tried not to think about her past, the bad things she had done, or try to continue with the acceptance process to move on. Missy knew that those emotions would directly affect the child and the best would be to wait. She did not know, at that moment, that the period of acceptance had passed. Missy had climbed a new step in recovery.
"Can you promise me something, Egghead?" She asked Nardole.
It was late afternoon and like countless other times, Missy and Nardole ended their work on the ship for the day. They were having tea sitting on chairs at the shed's door, watching the automatic day-to-night transition that the computer simulated every day.
"Sure."
She turned her body in the chair to look at him. With the mug in one hand and the other resting on her protruding belly, moving her unconscious fingers in a gentle caress, Missy looked well, pretty even, Nardole could say, Missy might not have noticed her own gesture, but Nardole soon did. It was a custom she had acquired as soon as her belly began to bulge slightly. Whenever she had an unoccupied hand, no matter what she was doing, Missy stroked it lightly.
"Promise me you'll take care of her if something happens to me."
Nardole rolled his eyes and slumped against the back of the chair. Missy had grown more and more anxious and apprehensive as she walked toward the end of her gestation.
The gestation and all the hormones had awakened in her another psychotic side that, if could say so, could not take any longer. She had all kinds of uncontrollable cravings for impossible foods, constant mood instabilities and growing concern about childbirth, talking about it over and over and over. But, since the Doctor wasn't there to deal with her and their pregnancy problems, he gave her all the support she needed. Suddenly Missy became his friend. What a odd thing to say.
"No, I will sell her to the black Market first thing after I get rid of this dump." He said impatiently. "Oh no, even better, I'll put her inside a cage and send her to Gallifrey with a note saying 'Danger, be aware, this child is the offspring of Mistress and The Doctor.'"
"My poor baby!" Missy laughed out loud, imagining the scene. The President reading the note with concern for his advisers, the Citadel with enhanced security. All for her child.
"Of course I'll take care of her, but nothing is going to happen with you. You're healthy and there's nothing wrong with the baby, it will be a easy delivery."
"Right, easy to say when you not the one about to have your vagina ripped from inside out."
Nardole's impatience made her smile. Missy knew she was getting a bit paranoid, but to give birth there, at that isolated floor of an empty spaceship with little technology and among people without advanced knowledge was something that frightened her. Thinking of Nardole's words being in Gallifrey at this momento would be ideal. There was the knowledge necessary to bring a child from time to life safely and there was medical knowledge in the event of an eventuality with any of them.
Sitting there, observing the day-to-night transition, Missy always remembered her vault. The Doctor had programmed it's windows to do the same so she would be able to follow a normal sequence of routines. She had been doing the same thing there, like a Pavlov's dog.
Every morning she woke up, dressed and went to the shed to work on the electronic parts of their new ship. The only difference was that instead of working on the ship, in the vault Missy worked at the piano. Nardole would come after her shortly bringing her a breakfast that she did not usually eat, something he already did on Earth, but which in her present situation she was obliged to swallow. Later Harzan would bring lunch and she would be forced to stop.
From that point Missy's routine had gained new nuances.
In recent months she had added to her routines short walks inside the shed when her spine could no longer stand the same position and she felt the need to stretch. Her belly was not uncomfortable, after a period of acceptance, she had grown accustomed to the baby's existence and her company had a calming effect on her. Something the girl had certainly drawn from her father.
Another built-in habit was the quiet conversations she kept with her baby before bed. She told her old stories of her own childhood, of her adventures with the Doctor at the academy and the baby relaxed, sending her warm affection that rocked her to a peaceful sleep almost every night. Sometimes she tells her baby about places she had gone and people she had met. Those were very old histories, from previous and better liver.
"If I were you I would worry about how you going to tell the Doctor the big news." Nardole's voice brought her back to the present.
"I already know how I'm going to tell him." Her face lit up in a mischievous smile.
"Why am I having a bad feeling about it?"
"A girl needs fun once in a while." She winked and took another sip of her warm and comforting tea.
"Something tells me you about to have tons of fun when that baby arrives."
"Don't worry, I will let you help me with her diapers."
