He worked. He accepted the Doctor's help, at last, metaphorically took his hand and stood shoulder to shoulder with him against a common enemy. Pushing and pushing and pushing at the drums. Pushing them out of that dim corner at the back of his mind and out into the open, in plain view in the centre of his mind, formless, shapeless and yet somehow incredibly solid. Paused for a moment to gather his strength, and his resolve, then started to push again, using the Doctor's strength and love to bolster his own willpower. Snarling like an animal, panting from exertion, he pushed.