He was dying, slowly dying, inch by inch, cell by cell.

This incarnation was never going to be his 'best', was it? Just a pointless 'frame' caught up in the cosmic angst of what came before. Still, it had been fun though, hadn't it? Destrii, Rose, Jack… Daleks… It was just a shame it had to end so soon, those hundred years felt like mere months (but what was time to a Time Lord, the last of the Time Lords?...)

Body struggling, body failing. Regeneration was coming and he thought it… Good…

Goodbye 'brash' Northern outer frame, hello something… New!…