Series 9: What We Deserve
Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did…damn you, Moffat!
Summary: Clara and Missy continue their chess match and discuss psychology. Clara hears the voices inside her head again.
A/N: Ok, so this is a more Clara x Missy centric chapter. But Twissy will be back next chapter!
Clara was insane. She knew it, she had to be. There was no other explanation for why she was sitting in the library, opposite the one woman in all of creation she could honestly say she hated with a passion.
On the other side of a chess board. Again.
And that was the problem. For whatever screwed up, FUBAR-ed reason, she wanted Missy. She hated her and she wanted her. Amazingly enough, that little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her former headmaster was silent as the grave. She was passionately in hate with the woman. She wondered if this was how the Doctor felt.
She didn't fully understand what game Missy was playing. But then, how to understand a mind like hers? The brief glimpses she'd been given weren't exactly elucidating.
She understood why Missy had become the person she was. But she didn't understand why she was playing with her. Why not the Doctor?
A mental image of the two of them, entwined on the console, flashed through her mind and she sighed. No need to play when the game was already over.
She wondered, why her? Yeah, Missy might have been fulfilling a self-fulfilling paradox when she spotted her on Gallifrey during the Time War, but that didn't explain why she chose her specifically. She could have gone to Earth and chosen any girl really. It would have still been the same outcome. Or would it?
Clara decided she really hated temporal physics.
It also didn't explain why her now. Missy despised and hated humanity, saw them as little more than apes to be tortured and exterminated at her pleasure, toys in her continuous battles with the Doctor. She would never have lowered herself to touch one of them unless there was some strategic value involved, such as with Lucy Saxon. What strategic value was there in seducing Clara?
The sane thing to do would have been to keep away. Refuse to play. Or better yet, talk to the Doctor about it and find a way to stop it. But Clara had felt nothing but numbness since Danny's death and the brief spats of emotion were usually unpleasantly negative. The only time she felt alive anymore was when she was with the Doctor…or Missy. The woman belittled her, challenged her, exhilarated her even as she continued to hate her with every cell in her body. It's like baiting a snake. Every dodged attack makes you feel more alive than ever, but eventually you'll get bitten. And it'll almost feel good to be bitten.
The thought washed through Clara as she met the devilish gleam in the eyes of the woman opposite her. The sane thing would have been to run away. She had nowhere to run. The sensible thing would have been to shut her down. Clara had decided some time ago she'd never had much sense or sanity. Not anymore, came of being split into a thousand different echoes of herself. No, she would play and she would fight. There was no alternative. Retreat had never been in her nature.
And if not letting Missy win whatever twisted little game she'd concocted, meant winning it instead, well Clara had no problem making that sacrifice. Exactly why she didn't mind, she refused to examine.
"What are you thinking of, my Clara?" Missy's soft question pulled her from her thoughts completely, as she tensed in her chair.
"Can't you tell?" she replied archly, folding her arms as she watched Missy contemplate the board. It appeared she actually managed to pose a challenge to the Time Lady this time, as it had been several minutes since Clara's last move. She didn't want to feel the thrill down her nerves at the thought. "Read my thoughts, I mean?"
"The telepathic bond fades over time if it is not reinforced regularly," Missy explained, finally reaching out a hand and moving her knight. Clara moved her bishop in response, and sighed. Damn.
Missy's grin was wicked as she took Clara's bishop and moved into check. Clara cursed herself and eyed the board, thinking fast. With a grin, she managed to manoeuvre out of danger.
"You're getting better," her opponent sighed.
"Don't compliment me, it makes me queasy," Clara quipped, as Missy rolled her eyes, sitting back in her chair to think about her next move. One red nail tapped against her chin, a four-beat rhythm. "What is that rhythm? I've heard you tapping it out before, almost subconsciously…" she asked, curious despite herself.
"Oh, this?" Missy lowered her hand, and for a moment Clara almost thought she was uncomfortable about her seeing it. "A remnant of the signal embedded into my mind when I was a child. I'm sure the Doctor has explained about that."
Clara nodded. "Did they remove it? The Time Lords?"
"At this point in my timeline, yes. Being stuck in another dimension meant retroactive removal was impossible and they would have refused to do it anyway. Messing too much with the established timeline, apparently. The process was not without its side-effects as you've noticed," Missy nodded, her face pinched and haunted, her eyes avoiding Clara.
She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms as Missy glanced up at her. "What?" she demanded abruptly, her eyes fixed intently on Clara's face. In many ways, she reminded Clara of a needy child, desperate for every scrap of attention, negative or positive.
"I was just trying to work out if you answered my question because you wanted me to know," she replied truthfully. They were far beyond dancing around the bush with one another.
Missy chuckled at that. "I always have an agenda, sweetheart. That's half the fun of it all."
Clara rolled her eyes and snorted derisively. "Must be exhausting, always trying to manipulate everyone and everything around you," she murmured, thoughtfully. "Don't you ever just want to stop and just…be?"
Missy laughed full out at that one, tipping her head back and exposing the long graceful column of her throat. The puncture wound from the dart had long healed and it was once more perfect. Clara tamped down the urge to lean over the chess set and set her lips to it.
"How boring," was all Missy's reply, as she made her next move. Now it was Clara's turn to think. "You never answered my question, you know."
"Yes, I did," Clara muttered, frowning slightly. After a moment, her brow smoothed out and she made her move, taking Missy's knight and a pawn. The group of white pieces on Missy's side was considerably bigger than Clara's black pile, but she was catching up.
"No, before that," Missy purred, with a knowing smirk. Clara eyed her narrowly. She had no intention of voicing her earlier thoughts. Casting around for another topic to divert her, she seized on a thought that suddenly occurred to her as their conversation replayed in her mind.
"I suppose…" she trailed off, noting the expectant glint in Missy's eyes. "I was wondering if the reason why you try to manipulate everyone and everything all the time, was because the same was once done to you. Multiple times."
At that, Missy almost looked shocked, stunned by her audacity. Clara mentally congratulated herself on winning a point, not caring about the darkness brewing in her opponent's eyes. After a moment, a slow, cruel smile appeared on her red lips and she relaxed, her predatory tension gone. For now.
"Oh my Clara," she practically purred, and Clara fought to ignore her shiver. "Now who's trying to manipulate the situation? I asked a discomfiting question and you introduce an…unpleasant topic to evade my question and goad my temper in the hope I'll forget it. Audacious, if foolish."
Clara promptly lost her last knight and bishop. Her king was open to attack and her queen isolated. It took all her logic to see a way out. "Is it an unpleasant topic? I thought you didn't care anymore."
"What do you think?" the Time Lady replied coolly, looking at Clara like she wanted to kill her. Or eat her.
Idiot, idiot, idiot! Clara's mind was chanting warningly, but as always, her newfound recklessness urged her on. "I think you've been punishing us. Humanity. Punishing us because of what Ailla did to you. For not being one of us, for tricking you, for making you believe we were actually of some worth in the universe. For making you believe you could care for a lesser being. And you've been punishing us ever since."
"Well, thank you for that psychoanalysis, Fraulein Freud, but might I suggest you stick to the English literature? Your professional future clearly doesn't lie in the field of psychology," Missy finally said, after a long silence, her voice caustic and angry. Clara just smiled.
"Psychology would tell me that that fact you're so angry, and so vehement, in denying my analysis is that I'm right or close to it," she countered, as Missy leaned forward and finally Clara's instincts took over. Danger.
"And basic psychology would tell me that your attempts at evading my question are hiding thoughts you'd rather I didn't discover," she retorted, slow and enunciating each word with a cruel precision. Clara mentally flinched as the Time Lady's hand hovered over her queen, before it descended and moved the piece. "Checkmate."
Clara recognised her defeat in Missy's eyes as the Time Lady began to stand. Her words from their previous encounter washed over her, making her move. Your move, sweetheart…
Before she had too much time to think, Clara was up and out of her seat. She skirted around the chess board and the table it sat on, and pinned Missy in her chair. Her eyes were wide with a kind of shocked appreciation as Clara knelt astride her, her knees bracketing Missy's thighs. She clasped her face between her hands, wondering if she'd cut herself on the sharp slash of cheekbones under her palms, and kissed her.
Missy's mouth was cool and wet, like kissing a mountain spring, and when the Time Lady's hands shot up to grip her waist, it turned desperate and heated, and everything Clara had denied craving to herself since their last interlude. She slid her hands into Missy's long curls, now regularly worn free down her back, and couldn't resist rocking her hips just a little bit. She felt a nudging sensation in her mind, and without another thought, Clara let her into her mind.
It was insane and dangerous, and a few weeks ago Clara would have laughed at the thought of letting the Mistress into her head. But she was so far gone, drunk on the sensations of Missy's hair between her fingers, Missy's curves pressing against her own and Missy's tongue teasing hers, that the thought never even entered her mind. Minds joined, the pleasure intensified and all thought of game-playing or trying to one-up each other dissipated. Clara could feel everything Missy did, and more, realising just how much more sensitive Gallifreyan bodies were to the senses. Clara was like a burning flame against Missy's skin, her mind like a single discordant note against the melody of the Time Lady's.
She let her hands wander freely now, running them over soft linen, the hard boning of Missy's corset digging into her palms. She struggled to ignore the slender hands roaming her own body, one curving over her bottom to pull her ever tighter against the Time Lady. Clara ran one hand down over her breast, feeling her sharp intake of breath. Missy's legs shifted beneath her impatiently, but Clara held her fast, imprisoned by her knees. With a thrill, Clara realised she had the upper hand now.
She broke the kiss, lungs screaming for air, and ducked her head to Missy's neck. The collar of her shirt was high, but Clara had no intention of letting things get so out of hand that they'd actually get to the taking off clothes part. She settled for tipping her captive's head back by the chin, rasping her tongue and teeth over the sensitive skin just under her jaw.
Missy huffed out a laugh. Well, this is unexpected…
Clara wasn't sure she could reply telepathically, so she just used the good ol' fashioned way. "You did say it wasmy move…"
Missy's hand in her hair turned grasping, and Clara had no choice but to raise her head and bring her lips back to Missy's, the thrill of feeling Missy's double heartbeat pounding because of her intoxicating her beyond reason.
That was when it hit.
The singing that had been dormant for so long exploded in her head, and she scrambled off of Missy with the last ounce of strength she possessed. She clutched her head, panting, as it intensified in all its gentle cruelty, and she felt the gorge rise in her throat. She wanted to be sick.
"Clara…?" Missy was there, hands on her back and arm, trying to turn her around. Panic rushed through her, and she wriggled free, rushing away as fast as she could. She didn't want her to see her like this, she didn't want anyone to see her like this. She just needed to get away.
The last thing Clara was aware of, before her mind finally gave up the fight and collapsed, was the cold metal of the gantry and warm hands gripping her supportively as she was lifted into strong, slender arms.
To be continued…