Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who's read this so far! You're great! Along with this 3rd chapter, I've just posted another story, called "Insurance Policy", which is my take on what the drums really are. Here's the link (you need to add fan_fiction (without the underline) onto the front of it for it to work), and I'd love feedback on it:

.net/s/5620298/1/Insurance_Policy

The Doctor's POV:

You're standing across the console, leveling me with your stare. This regeneration was never one to keep his feelings hidden, and I can see every bit of anger, of pain, of pure hatred that masks itself into your face.

What do you see when you look at me? What are you thinking?

I've taken you aboard my home, despite her reservations. I've saved you from humans who would have killed you or, worse, locked you away. I know what it's like to be trapped, an animal in a zoo for the humans' amusement; to be played with and taunted. THEY trapped me, and the humans are no different. They could easily become THEM.

Don't you understand that I've given up my freedom for you? I can no longer run through the universe, righting wrongs and saving lives. You're the one who's trapped me here, and I don't hate you for that. Not at all. Don't you see that?

It's been four days since the Valliant, and you're still standing there, unmoving. We don't need sleep, and I don't want to leave you alone with my girl. You might hurt her again.

What do you see when you look at me? What are you thinking?

I'm sorry if you feel like a prisoner. I truly am. But it's better that… that you hate me. The alternative is that more innocent people die, and I don't want that.

We were friends a long time ago. I think you remember. At least… I hope you do. Because that's what I rely on to stop you. There's got to be a little voice in your head that whispers to you about the times when we were young, and planned our paths across the stars. There has to be a way for that voice to emerge from the mass of four-beat drums that march around your head, day and night. There has to be a little bit of Koschei left in this mass of swirling madness. There has to be.

"Tell me what you want me to do?"

"Free me."

"I'm sorry."

It's been a week now. You moved an hour ago, removing yourself from the console room, and me from your thoughts. You're going to sulk now. You used to hate it when I called it sulking. Do you remember how you shouted at me the first time we got into an argument? You were so funny afterwards. You wouldn't even look at me, though every fiber of your being was screaming at me to notice you.

You avoid me all the time, moving through the TARDIS in such a way that I can never find you. She does her best, guiding me down the endless corridors, trailing you. But you know her almost as well as me, and continue to evade me.

You're like me, aren't you? You're scared of being tied to one place, in one time, and I'm doing that to you. The pain isn't anything new though. I've suffered far worse than the pain of putting you in chains, and you know that, or you would be bending me right now, seeing how far it took for me to snap.

You're scared of being stuck. You're scared of being alone. You're scared of being powerless. Hell, you're scared of power. You're scared of what would happen if you did gain power. There would be nothing left to fight for then. There's no one left to stop us now, don't you see? There isn't any point of fighting.

"Master?" You're sitting on one of the observation decks, gazing out at the stars, the longing emanating from you.

"…"

There's no response, so I ask again. "Master?"

"…"

Why don't you answer me? Why do you hate me?

It's been two weeks, and your need for companionship means you talk to me once again. But all you do is talk of freedom, of planets that I've never seen, of sights that I would love to see, but never can with you on board.

I try to talk of little things; things that don't matter and wouldn't lead to anything, but you always come back to the waterfalls of Vuri, or the twelve suns of Helix 44. You won't let me have one minute alone in your presence where you don't remind me what I'm doing.

Finally, my silence must tell you that I'm not going to be riled and you grudgingly fall into silence. You've already tested whether the controls are really locked on isomorphic, and the TARDIS dislikes you too much to offer you entertainment. The only form of that you have is me.

"Why did you lie to me?"

I look up. I'm standing over the control console, fixing something that I should have fixed eons ago. You're standing in the doorway to the rest of the ship, leaning against the door frame.

"If you're trying to make me feel guilty, it's not going to work." But it does, and you know it.

"Why did you lie to me?" you repeat the question, like a child who's always asking why.

"I didn't."

You laugh. It's not a nice laugh. "No, you didn't. You just 'led me on'!"

"Master--"

"No!" You shoot into the room fully. I move slightly, keeping the console in between us. "You said that I'd be free."

"And you are."

You pause, a questioning look on your face. When you realize what I mean you scoff. "I don't want freedom here." You wave a hand at the TARDIS. "I want freedom out there." You point towards the scanner, which shows stars. "How can you imprison me when you know what's it like?"

I return to the fixing of the console. "I'm sorry."

"Is that all you can say?"

"I'm sorry."

"Arh!" You lash out, kicking one of the coral struts. I'm there at once, checking over the support. "Oh! It's nice to know where your priorities are!" I turn to see you on one foot, holding the other. The urge to laugh is overwhelming, but I somehow think that this isn't the best time.

"Are you all right?" I reach out a hand, only to find you growling at me.

"I don't need your pity," you spit.

"Fine." I cross my arms. "Don't kick my ship."

You snigger.

"What?"

"Thought you were gonna say 'don't kick my baby' for a second."

I bristled. "Do you want the roof to come down on our heads?"

You grin suddenly. "Will it help me get out?"

I sigh and turn away. It always comes back to that, and probably always will.

"What?" you say, overly loud in the confined space. "You hand these opportunities to me on a silver platter and expect me not to take them?"

Why do you do this, I wonder? Yes, I lied to you. I promised you that your plan to take over the earth would fail, and I had a backup plan. I promised that if you could find out my plan I would let you rule the Universe. You had a year, and you didn't. I also promised that if I won I would let you go. I broke that last one.