The TARDIS was quieter than usual, Missy noted, save for occasional hum of hostility the TARDIS that invaded her mind. The Doctor stood by the console, his lanky body blocking the key controls, eyes warily watching her every move. She didn't blame either of them, to be frank. She did kidnap his TARDIS for a joyride more than once throughout their shared past.
She leaned casually against a railing and smiled as she tapped out a very familiar four-beat rhythm.
ba dum dum dum ba dum dum dum ba dum dum dum ba dum dum dum ...
"Let's talk about old times, eh, best bud?"
"You're not my 'best bud'." He spits out.
"After all we've been through?" She says, feigning mock hurt.
"Just tell me what happened after Rassilon's return," He grits out, "Naismith Mansion. You were there, weren't you? We've got as long as you need. All the time you need to tell me the whole truth." He turns towards the console and pulls a lever. The TARDIS lurches into life as it entered the vortex.
She looks around for the first time, with a strange mix of wonder and restrained fascination. "Oh, you redecorated? I don't like it" she grimaced.
"That's not the point." he clipped, almost impatiently.
"Then what is, dearest Doctor?" she countered, "The fact that you left Clara all alone, fleshy, mortal, and oh-so vulnerable?"
"The story you promised?"
"Ah yes, how about the story of how you left me to rot in hell while you pranced around time and space! You do love playing with Earth girls!" She sneered. Quickly thinking, she decided to tell him the truth. Or the partial truth. What she refused to admit, however, was that she missed his more talkative past-selves. After all, tormenting Seb for several years could only amuse you for so long.
"Naismith Mansion. Start there."
"Oh, you're telling me what to do now?" she scoffed, quite unlady-like. "Typical Doctor."
With a resounding sigh, she started to relive the past few years.
The last thing Missy remembered before being dragged back into the time lock was the the look of pure anger on the Doctor's 10th self. She remembered him standing a service gun in one hand and eyes ablaze with anger, between Rassilon and the Time Council and her past self. She vaguely remembered her old self silently remarking how hard his 10th self had clenched the revolver, knuckles white and lips in a tight angry line.
She remembered that her past self was dying, her life force slowly being drained with each bated breath she took. She - or was it he? - was so close, close to creating the Master Race. But Rassilon and the Time Lords just had to interfere. Rassilon just had to use his metal gauntlet.
He heard herself scream in anger, in futility, in another indescribable emotion. " No, no, don't. No, no, stop it! No, no, no, don't!"
His Master race was gone with a snap of his fingers. Just. Like. That.
And as soon as his Master race was gone, the Master's anger dissipated. His trump card may be gone, but it did not mean that he will lose. Not this time.
" No, that's fine, that's good, because you said salvation. I still saved you. Don't forget that."
He doesn't remember much of what happened next, but she remembered that Gallifrey was pulled through the time lock, the all-too-familiar view of a fiery orange planet burning the sky, the colour juxtaposed against the light blue. The President Rassilon, standing in his red ceremonial robes and behind him, the Council.
He was barely listening, the thrum of the drum beats getting louder and louder with each passing moment. In his mind, he heard voices that transcended time and space.
"A drumbeat, a warrior's march." He heard above the noise of the drum beats.
Then another clear voice above the chant. "A symptom of insanity, my Lord."
Then the first. "The rhythm of four! The heartbeat of a Time Lord!"
In that moment, he knew those voices. The damned Rassilon and his Council. He laughed insanely. Of course, of course, he still had the upperhand, he thought, as he looked upon the Doctor with barrel of the revolver pointed towards him. He spread open his palms and kneeled down, a gesture of goodwill.
"Then take me with you, Lord President. Let me ascend into glory."
"You are diseased, albeit a disease of our own making. No more."
The next few moments were a bit of a blur, but he remembered that in a fit of fury - or was it desperation and futility? - he had shot four bolts of energy to the beat of the madness within his head, all the while screaming, "You did this to me! All of my life! You made me!" With each bolt, he stepped closer to Rassilon. "One! Two! Three! FOUR!"
Perhaps he was too close to the gravitational pull of the link. Perhaps he should have fought the tug of the link as Gallifrey burned and flickered back into the Time War. But he was exhausted and dying. And so, he didn't fight it. Then the last thing that Missy remembered of Naismith Mansion and Gallifrey was darkness. The emptiness, the inkiness like the jaws of the Nightmare Child in the final days of the War
"Then what happened," the Doctor said quietly. "What happened to Rassilon, to the Council? After Naismith Mansion?"
Missy shrugged nonchalantly, "Who knows? I barely remember a thing about the War."
"How could you forget?" the Doctor asked, slightly curious. "Even after all this time, I see it in my dreams. I can't ever forget the chaos, the bloodshed, the fear."
"You wouldn't forget. Because you're just too sentimental, Doctor. After all, I thrive on chaos." she purred. "It was beautiful, the fall of Arcadia. If I were as sentimental as you, Doctor, I would almost call it poetic."
She took a bold step towards the Doctor and to the console. His wiry frame tensed and his stance became more defensive. As if sensing the Doctor's sudden wariness, the TARDIS hum became more angry and irritated.
"Oh Doctor, don't you want to know where your Impossible Girl is?"
"What have you done with her." His voice was deadly calm, but promised a world of pain.
"Oh please. Don't be obtuse. You were always so obtuse, even in the Academy. I'm going to show you where I kept your pet for, shall we say, safe-keeping."