Horrid sounds emulated from unseen corners and mechanics that were falling apart; failing for reasons that the Doctor could only imagine when his mind isn't being absorbed in the simple fact that he was dieing. A fire burst from the short circuits in the control panels of the TARDIS, but the cold flame of fear shown throughout the Doctors eyes. Residual sweat still dripped from his hairline as his heart rates sped with an ache he couldn't place. Parts of the ceiling fell just inches from him and he didn't give a second glance.
The pain was setting in.
The pain of every cell in his body losing the life it once had. The pain of becoming new filled his body; the depleted cells changing into something that wasn't him and was never going to be him, again.
"I don't want to go," were the last words that escaped his mouth as the pain burned him like ice and a light started to spread over him.
The Doctors body stiffened and contracted as every living part of him became . . . not him. His memories whizzed across his eyes, like a movie reel; being safely wound into a spool to be tucked away to the back of his mind; a solid blackness replaced the bobbin, ready to record.
As the light became stronger, a silent scream formed his face as tension pulsated through his tendons. He tried to scream, but it was as if this light was trapping his voice within it. Another pulse of pain and the scream became easily audible; high-pitched, ear shattering, blood curdling screech that was the definition of agony.
A pane of glass in the background shattered to the floor.
The light slowly dimmed as the Doctors body folded to the floor. Breathing was hard, but so was trying to keep still. A hand shot up to the control panel, searching for a button, finding it and smashing the life out of it. The sound of a blip came out of the monitor and with a ragged intake of air, the Doctor yelled one name.
"JACK HARKNESS!"