Being spit in two was, in the Doctor's experience, never an enjoyable thing.
Oddly enough, it had now happened to him a grand total of two times.
The first time was accidental. Regeneration, sword fight, loss of a hand and a gain of another; then, hello, surprise, it's me, I'm you!
Of course, he felt that. Felt the vast psychic web that was his consciousness replicate itself, split, like a cell reproducing. Still got occasional glimpses of a could-be life; children and sleepy mornings, blonde hair and mother-in-laws, awkward moments and cheeky grins, and an overwhelming sense of belonging.
The second time, again. Felt the moment approaching through time, just as he had the first. Again, splitting, dividing, replicating. Two of him; two full Time Lords, linked thoughts and experiences; he was in two places at once.
The humans, non-psychic beings as they were, had no idea that they had just copy-pasted themselves into another body. He could feel it.
A sonic screwdriver, nervous glances, whispers of 'let's find out'; the TARDIS walls, console, Amy and Rory; pain; smiles.
Dying was not new. Not waking up was.
What is this I don't even-
Yeah so this is what happens when I think to much about Doctor Who when I should be doing maths.
I don't really think flesh!Doctor died, rather I'm desperately hoping he's the one we see [OMG SPOILERS FOR EP1 OF SEASON WHATEVER THIS IS STOP READING IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT] die on the beach.
Moffat, what are you doing!
PS HOMESTUCK IS AMAZING IF YOU READ HOMESTUCK YOU ARE AMAZING AND SHOULD PM ME (Or review. Or both. You know, whichever.) IN A FIT OF AWESOMENESS. BLUH BLUH GAMZEE SCARES ME O.O