[There's more. Memories of hunts and of agreements struck with the remnants of a sentient star, light in his eyes and his own voice inviting others to burn with him and the screaming of Daleks as they steam to death in their metal carapaces. Errors made, and casualties. The few times he's let others die because it was for the greater good, and there was no way to save them and keep the exterminators from escaping, as well. The drums, everywhere. Long hours in his laboratories, the medical bay, trying to explain them away. No luck. Days spent in the rebuilt Zero Room and still no silence. Wondering if he's more a new man than he's ever been, and if there's any way to find his way back.]
[...He'll ask, if he can, to look into his other's mind. A mental question. He wants to see if there's anything, anything at all, of the man he is now in his other. If the drums are there, even the slightest echo of them, in any moment.
He won't admit it to himself, but he also just wants to see. The good memories. The Earth still whole, and the friends. Things going right and wrong, but right more often than wrong.]
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[...He'll ask, if he can, to look into his other's mind. A mental question. He wants to see if there's anything, anything at all, of the man he is now in his other. If the drums are there, even the slightest echo of them, in any moment.
He won't admit it to himself, but he also just wants to see. The good memories. The Earth still whole, and the friends. Things going right and wrong, but right more often than wrong.]