The likelihood of X perceiving this as a trap was extremely high. She had done little to dissuade him of the fact, allowing herself to be tracked so easily. However she had done him the courtesy of waiting in neutral territory: a closed outdoor café on a rooftop; a summer midnight of a European-like country on a far-off world.
Months had gone by where Missy had enjoyed the most power she had ever experienced, the combined capabilities of Rassilon’s Gauntlet and the cluster of malevolent voices that made up the Dark Matrix. They gave her an invincibility; a freedom she had long sought. She had it all, and it was so empty. Her mind had been feeling like an hourglass with the sands of her control slowly trickling away. The less resolute she was in her thoughts, the stronger the will of the Dark Matrix became. They were angry with her, hateful that she had stolen them from the mind of the Doctor, that she laughed at their desires and ignored them so readily.
Despite all her games and schemes something underneath had been broken since regeneration. Even before the last. Ironic, really, that the Time War had done something to the Doctor and her both. It almost stopped her from blaming him for what he had done to her family. Maybe it had. Hadn’t she caused the deaths of so many of his favourite little homo sapiens? She had killed him at least twice. Even after the things he had done she wanted the dance back, and he wasn’t using the same steps. Was he even dancing with her anymore at all?
Can’t you just try to stop me like you used to? Fight me, give me an excuse to rain hell upon you for the giggles. Anything but whatever this is.
The latest change had come after further visits off-dimension. He had been so fond of checking in on other Doctors, so why shouldn’t she indulge in a similar courtesy? Missy had found other versions of herself, a series of near-identical realms and followed them to their end. Each and every one had the same result. She had not stopped thinking about it since.
When her invitee arrived on the rooftop, Missy did not turn. Her hands, one gauntleted and one bare, rested on the railing overlooking the town. Behind her there was a lit tealight in the centre of the nearest table.
“Do you ever think about the mistake he made? What it meant for the both of us down the line?”
