The Doctor thought he could fix you. That he'd be able to stop the drumming in your head.

The Doctor was wrong.

And he figured that out all on his own. Or at least, he should have by now. You originally thought him taking you with him would make you his pet, just like all those little humans he had taken with him. Only difference was with you, you were a Time Lord; you wouldn't leave or die like those pesky humans.

But you were definitely not a pet to the Doctor. If anything, he was yours. Completely yours. You had him wrapped around your finger, he'd come when you called, groveling at your feet just to make sure you were happy. He called it love, you called it stupidity. No matter how much you hurt him, he'd always come back. It was almost comical, the way he so desperately wanted for you to love him back.

"Master," the Doctors voice cut through, taking you from your thoughts. "Did you need something?" He asked. Oh, right. You had called for him earlier.