Craig was mildly surprised when the first thing Sophie noticed as she set down her handbag on the coffee table was the dark patch in the corner of the ceiling.

"That's got bigger," she observed, leaning back into the soft leather beside Craig.

"Oh yeah…" The dry rot couldn't have been further from Craig's mind.

"We going out?"

"I've had a bit of a weird day," Craig sighed. "Could we do pizza-booze-telly?"

"Love it," Sophie smiled. "Wait…" She reached for her handbag, pulling out her cellphone. "No Melina, no crises, no interruptions."

"Great." Craig's heart gave a little flip as she sent him a gentle smile, and suddenly meeting her eyes became the hardest thing in the world. "Excellent. Um…" He swallowed hard to quell the butterflies that had begun to stir in his stomach and turned himself to face her. "Soph? I've…" Somewhere between his heart and his mouth, the words got lost; he tried again. "I think…"

"Where's this going?" Expectation was shining in Sophie's clear eyes; the butterflies in Craig's stomach were now dancing right up through his chest and fluttering in the back of his throat.

"I think that we…" he managed. "…should…"

The sound of the door slamming behind him was like a deadweight had been dropped on Craig – it crushed the butterflies and sank heavily in his chest, leaving his heart thudding painfully when they both jumped. He hadn't realized how close they had moved until he was suddenly aware that Sophie had pulled back. Almost noiseless footsteps were broken by the occasional uncoordinated shuffle betraying the movement of Kaiser crossing the kitchen; moments later, he sauntered into view and seated himself in the armchair on the other side of Sophie with barely a glance at the two of them. When Craig found his voice, it was bristling with indignation.

"Uh…I thought you two were going out or something?"

"Can't speak for the Doctor, but I'm watching telly," Kaiser replied. "That's normal, isn't it?" Somehow, the icy edge to his voice had Craig feeling that there was something decidedly abnormal about it, but Kaiser was already searching down the sides of the armchair for the remote control.

"There's nothing on," he tried. "It's Sunday night – it's all…cartoons and stuff."

"I'm sure I can find something," said Kaiser coolly. "I've reconnected all the electrics – didn't the Doctor tell you?"

"You've…what?" Craig spluttered. "Look – Kaiser, mate – we're kind of…" He leaned around to try and catch the man's eye, his own eyes shifting emphatically towards Sophie, but the white-haired head was turned pointedly away, whether ignoring him deliberately or genuinely oblivious, Craig couldn't be sure.

"No, it's O.K.," Sophie spoke up, to Craig's dismay. "I don't mind – if you don't mind, that is, Craig?"

"No…no, why would I mind?" He could think of several reasons, but held back from voicing them, instead hoping against hope that his flatmate would realize that three had never felt so crowded and excuse himself.

"Yeah, stay," Sophie offered. "Have a drink with us." Kaiser glanced at her with a brief shrug, before turning back to the TV screen, seemingly focused intensely on a brightly-coloured Japanese cartoon.

And so, Craig found himself sharing his evening – and Sophie's attention – with his flatmates. The Doctor had entered some five minutes or so after Kaiser and appeared delighted at the idea of joining the little gathering. He had sat down on a dining room chair pulled up at the back of Kaiser's armchair without invitation, but Craig no longer cared – as far as he was concerned, the evening was long dead. The bottle of wine had been opened and shared between the four of them – good wine, expensive wine, wine that he had bought specially when Sophie mentioned some weeks ago having it at a friend's house. Kaiser had finished his glass and swapped it for the Doctor's still-full one; the Doctor, for his part, hadn't even noticed, deep in conversation with Sophie while Craig twiddled his thumbs and watched the cartoon on the screen with open disinterest.

"'Cause life can seem pointless, you know, Doctor? Work, weekend, work, weekend – and there's six billion people on the planet doing pretty much the same."

"Six billion peo-"

"Sh!" Kaiser nudged the Doctor with his elbow and reached for the remote control to turn up the volume, but the Doctor continued to talk.

"So then, call centre – that's no good? What do you really want to do?"

"Don't laugh," said Sophie with a glance back at Craig, who quickly plastered a smile across his face. "I only ever tell Craig about it. I…I want to work looking after animals, maybe abroad? I saw this orang-utan sanctuary on telly…" Her eyes had lit up as she spoke, and the Doctor must have noticed as he asked bluntly,

"What's stopping you?"

"She can't," Craig explained quickly. "You need loads of…qualifications."

"Yeah, true…" Sophie nodded her agreement. "Plus – it's…scary. Everyone I know lives round here. Like, Craig – got offered a job in London, better money, didn't take it."

"What's wrong with staying here?" Craig protested.

"Ah yes – not much of a traveller," the Doctor remembered. "Never been abroad, Craig? France? Spain?"

"Nah – can't see the point of Spain," Craig shrugged.

"Nor could I," Kaiser's voice muttered distinctly. All of a sudden, Craig felt inexplicably solemn.

"Shipyard number 58, wasn't it?" he said, and all three looked at him with varying shades of confusion.

"Hm?" Sophie and the Doctor didn't seem too sure whether they'd heard correctly; Kaiser studied Craig's face for a second and then averted his eyes.

"Oh – nothing…" Craig could feel his ears reddening with embarrassment – where had that thought come from? Perhaps it was a movie he had seen, or a dream, or…no, he couldn't place it. "Anyway, Soph – yeah, I mean, you wouldn't know anyone, wouldn't know where to go…"

"Well, perhaps that's you, then?" the Doctor suggested, his interest in Sophie apparently lost as his attention seemed to drift to the TV. "Perhaps you'll just have to stay here secure and a little bit miserable 'til the day you drop. Better than trying and failing, eh?" Craig wasn't the only one surprised by the Doctor's suddenly harsh attitude – Kaiser also dragged his eyes from the TV, although his expression now showed the faintest hint of a smile and he nodded as though pleased.

"You think I'd fail?" Sophie sounded slightly perturbed.

"Well, everybody's got dreams, Sophie. Very few are going to achieve them, so why pretend?" The Doctor reached under his chair and fished out the empty wine glass. He sniffed it, wrinkled his nose and replaced it by his feet. "Perhaps in the whole wide universe, a call centre is about where you should be."

"Why are you saying that?" Sophie exclaimed, shocked. "That's horrible!"

"Ah, but is it true?" Kaiser cut in. Craig leaned forward, on the point of coming to Sophie's irate defence, when she retorted herself,

"Of course it's not true! I'm not staying in a call centre all my life – I can do anything I want!" The Doctor's eyes finally returned to Sophie, and a warmth had returned to them as his face spread into a smile, looking between her and Kaiser. As realization dawned on Sophie, her mouth fell open in an O of amazement.

"Ohh…yeah, right!" Delighted, she turned to Craig. "Oh my God – did you see what he just did?"

"No, sorry…what's happening?" Craig had to do a double-take – he was sure he must have missed a turning point somewhere along the way, and he had an unpleasant feeling that something was changing. "Are you going to live with monkeys now?"

Unnoticed by the pair, the Master's astonishment at Sophie's revelation had instead darkened into anger, incensed all the more when the Doctor leaned forward and said quietly,

"You see? There's more than one way to manipulate people." Rather than give the Doctor the satisfaction of any response, the Master picked up the wine bottle from the table and made to refill his empty glass, but to his irritation, the Doctor's hand reached forward and plucked the bottle from his grasp. "It won't help, you know," he said. "Empty calories."

"Oh, it helps," the Master growled, snatching it back and emptying the contents into his glass.

"You really should be careful," the Doctor warned in a low voice. "That knock you got today – and you're in no state to be-"

"Don't patronize me," the Master spat, loudly enough so that Craig and Sophie couldn't help but hear. "Always criticizing my lifestyle choices, aren't you, Doctor?"

"I'd hardly call it a lifest-"

"Choices, then." More as a gesture than because he was enjoying the taste of the drink, the Master drained the glass in his hand and set the glass down roughly on the table. "Because that's the one thing I don't have any more – the last thing you took away from me. Interfering with my plans wasn't enough for you – you had to make sure I was following your…your sightseeing, your traipsing around from one mess to the next."

"I…" Taken aback, the Doctor was for once lost for words. "I thought you were…"

"Happy?" the Master sneered.

"Well, content, at least…"

Behind them, Sophie and Craig were exchanging uncomfortable glances. As the voices of the two escalated, it became impossible not to feel as though they were intruding, and Craig jerked his head towards the door.

"Pub?" he mouthed, and Sophie nodded, looking relieved. As surreptitiously as they could manage, they stood and headed for the door.

"Oh, content," the Master snorted. "Content to be your…what am I? Your companion? Your passenger? Your patient?"

"We used to be fr-"

"Don't."

Neither noticed as the door clicked shut; the bitterness in the Master's voice was cutting into the Doctor's hearts, twisting the knife in his conscience that had already been driven deep by the extinction of the Saturnyne and forced home by Rory's death. Rory had tried to warn him, he realized with a pang. Quiet, unassuming Rory Williams had seen what he could not – what he hadn't wanted to know – that the Master was far from happy, was frustrated and humiliated by his dependence on the Doctor's TARDIS.

"Oh yes, I've got everything I want…except, of course, my freedom…"

A distant recollection passed through the Doctor's mind, and he suddenly understood – his lifelong adversary felt himself no better off than a prisoner.

"I'm…I'm sorry." His voice felt choked – and even if it hadn't, he hardly knew what to say. "I thought it was the best thing – me and you…and Amy-"

"Ugh – yes, you still had to get yourself another Earth girl pet. I know you had your reasons for picking up this one, but really…'Doctor, I want to see planets,'" the Master mimicked, raising his voice in a crude impression of Amy's Scottish twang. "'Doctor, you promised me Rio. Doctor, I broke a nail on a Weeping Angel…'" He drew a breath, his voice trembling slightly – whether with anger, the Doctor couldn't be sure. "'Doctor, Mister Saxon is crazy, isn't he? He's mad, he's a nut job…'"

"She didn't mean-"

"Of course she meant it – what do you take me for?" Voice hoarse, the Master hunched forwards, fists pressed against the sides of his head. "You've said the same thing yourself, so many times – 'you're completely insane…'" He was silent for a moment, and then rose and turned to meet the Doctor's eyes, his own eyes wavering almost imperceptibly. "When will it stop, Doctor?" He lowered his head and, without another word, strode past the Doctor and out into the hallway, slamming the door at his back and leaving the Doctor to bow his head and bury his hands in his hair.

An unseen pair of eyes was following the Master's back as he hastened down the corridor. From the silhouette that stood at the top of the stairs, a cool female voice raised itself after him.

"Don't you want to come with me?" she called. "We would make quite the team – minds like ours, we could be unstoppable. Come with me." There was a barely visible tensing in the Time Lord's shoulders, but without breaking his stride, he lifted his hand in a gesture that would have been considered deplorable in at least six galaxies. The woman at the top of the stairs showed no reaction, and by the time the bathroom door was closed firmly behind the Master, she was gone.

...

For what could have been a matter of minutes but felt like an interminable stretch, the Doctor sat on the edge of what remained of the bed frame and followed the slow revolving of the structure in the centre of the room with his eyes. Cobbled together from all manner of odds and ends, as well as components of most of the furniture that had been in the room, it was nonetheless symmetrical and balanced, and turned steadily and smoothly. Scattered on the floor around the Doctor's feet were sheets of paper covered in diagrams and labels in the Master's neat handwriting, meticulously planned down to the last detail, with the odd note in flowing Gallifreyan script to illustrate more complex concepts that would have taken pages to explain in English. Garden tools, bedside lamps, bicycle parts and even a washing line purloined – borrowed – from a neighbour's garden had been assembled into a surprisingly stable pyramidal structure that started off without a hitch and moved soundlessly as it picked up information and fed it through to a row of digital alarm clocks lined up on a shelf by the door – all with the efficiency and skill that the Doctor would expect from a man who even with a human brain had once built a rocket practically out of staples and string.

Had he been bored, the Doctor wondered? With their own relationship no longer a battle of wits and deduction, what was there to challenge the Master's active, restless mind? What could there possibly be for an intelligence like his in travelling with the Doctor if he hadn't been forced to for the sake of his very survival? Perhaps it truly was little more than sightseeing for him, and the Doctor knew as well as any how quickly sightseeing could become meaningless and monotonous.

Or perhaps he was making excuses for his own oversights. Caught up in the thrill of the new body, new start, new human companion to show the stars, perhaps the Doctor had overlooked the one who still needed his help more than ever, had neglected to see that tethered to his TARDIS was a proud, fiercely independent Time Lord who still burned with resentment for what had been done to him so many centuries ago.

Eventually, standing and shrugging off his jacket with a heavy sigh, the Doctor switched on his earpiece.

"Amy?"

"Still here," Amy answered promptly. She gave a loud and obvious yawn. "Not like I'm going anywhere, am I?"

"I'm doing the best I can, Pond," the Doctor snapped. "In case you haven't noticed, this isn't my fault." There was silence, and the Doctor felt another twinge of guilt. "Sorry, Amy," he apologized. "It won't be long now – I'll get you out of there."

"You two have had another row, haven't you?"

"A row?" Edging around the room, the Doctor dodged a corner of the whirling machine that narrowly missed his kneecaps. "We've been sworn arch-enemies for hundreds of years, Pond – I hardly think a 'row' is worth mentioning, in the grand scheme of things…" Amy's silence spoke for her scepticism, but the Doctor was busying himself with switching on the row of alarm clocks and pretended not to notice, until she was finally forced to break the pause.

"So, what about that scanner you were building? Got any readings?"

"Well, the atmospheric pressure seems normal…" He picked up one of the alarm clocks and shook it, watching the numbers jump up and down and then stabilize. "Gravity's a bit high, perhaps, but that could just be the centripetal force from the dustbin lid. And the temporal flow is fine. Completely normal – for now, at least."

"What, so…nothing?"

"Nothing that I can see from this data," the Doctor murmured, picking up several loose ends that had been sellotaped to the underside of the shelf. "I wonder what the Master was doing with these…"

"Look, why don't you just go upstairs and have a look?" said Amy impatiently. "Forget the 'normal blokes' thing – just sonic the door and get out of there before you and Mister Saxon kill each other."

"Because whatever it is, it's incredibly powerful, and therefore probably incredibly dangerous," the Doctor answered calmly. "And the only thing more stupid than breaking in there by myself would be breaking in there and relying on the Master to back me up. One of us could get ourselves killed, and if it's me, you really are likely to get flung out into the time vortex."

"Flung out into the… Is that what he said earlier?"

"No! No, no, of course not," the Doctor backtracked hastily. "Now, I just need to see…I wonder…" He trailed off and his tone became pensive. "I wonder… Amy, use the databank on the TARDIS. Get me the plans, layout, history, everything…of this building."

"Right."

"And I am going to…hm. I wonder where that cat's got to…"

...

When Craig returned to the house later that night, he was more than a little relieved to find that the lights were out and there was no sign of his two flatmates. He locked and bolted the door behind himself, and then paused in the hallway, allowing his thoughts to drift back. The pub had been crowded and noisy – they had ended up sharing a table and a few pints with several of the football team and their partners – but Craig had still heard enough from Sophie to fill his mind.

"So what's keeping you here, Soph?"

"I…I don't know…"

What if there was nothing for Sophie here? If there was nothing for Sophie, then what was he? If she left, what would he be? He simply couldn't picture a future without her any more, not now that he knew what he had set his heart on. But if her heart was far off in some distant tropical jungle, how could he ever reach it? Had she slipped from his grasp for good?

Sophie had noticed his glum distance that evening, but he knew he could never voice the anxiety weighing on him when he couldn't even put words to the questions that tugged at him.

Squinting in the darkness, he felt his way along the corridor and pushed open the door to the living room. A streetlamp outside sent a few stray beams of orange light through the window, enough for him to find his way across to the side-table by the armchair, where he was sure there had been a lamp…no – there it was, over in the corner, between the bookcase and a dining chair. One of his flatmates must have been reading, he supposed. He flicked it on and immediately noticed something off about the shadow it cast up the wall. The warm light didn't quite reach the ceiling, and he realized after a moment that the dark patch he was peering at was the same dark patch that had caught Sophie's eye that evening. Now that he thought about it, it did seem to have spread further out across the ceiling than he remembered.

"You should really have a look at that." The soft voice from the corner of the kitchen sent Craig's heart leaping into his mouth and he spun around. Kaiser's slight, black-clad figure was practically invisible in the semi-darkness, although Craig could make out his white hair, dripping wet and plastered to his forehead, and a gleam of eyes in his pale face. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Craig saw that in his arms, the man was holding a long-haired cat close to his chest.

"Blimey, Kaiser!" Craig spluttered, once he had recovered from the shock. "You nearly gave me a heart attack! Did you…uh…are you after the spare bed?" Kaiser smiled slowly, and Craig gave a short, nervous laugh.

"Oh, no. No – I was just looking at that." His eyes flickered upwards towards the dark patch above Craig's head. "I think it's dry rot – what do you think? Would you have a quick look for me?"

"What, now?" Craig raised his wrist to try and make out the hands on his watch. "It's past midnight – can't it wait 'til tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Kaiser shook his head. "The 'Rotdoktor' will be hanging around tomorrow, all football and omelette du fromage – you'll forget all about it." Craig couldn't help but feel a guilty prickle of pleasure at the derision in Kaiser's voice when he mentioned the Doctor, and with a shrug, he put one foot on the dining chair that was already against the wall below the dark patch.

"You're not getting me involved in your little domestic," he chuckled, raising his hand towards the patch. "If this is about- ow!" The moment his fingers brushed the wall, a sharp, numbing jolt ran up his arm, tingling right to his very bones as though he had touched an electric fence. "Hey, what are you playing at?" He whirled angrily, but Kaiser had vanished, as silently as if he had melted into the shadows, leaving Craig feeling more than a little unsettled.