There are not enough words in the world for me to express my apologies for not posting this sooner. Thank you to everyone who read this story and I'm sorry it wasn't published in a more timely manner. Happy New Year, everyone.
Clara wished she'd turned her back sooner, but alas she'd watched the Doctor's body wrack with pain, like you watch a car wreck. It was terrible, the way he clawed at the helmet, desperately trying to get it to come off. He screamed until his voice was hoarse and there was a river of tears running down his cheeks; they clung to the crevices that had formed on his cadaverous face and left a shiny residue behind. It was only when she noticed blood at the tips of his fingernails that Clara turned away from the screaming Time Lord.
But the image of the Doctor, reduced to the basic feelings of fear and pain by the Chameleon Arch, was ingrained in her mind even when they were closed. His screams still filled her ears and she fought the urge to clap her hands over them. This was something she needed to hear; she needed to hear the Doctor in pain, to know he wasn't invincible, something easy to forget in the TARDIS. After this, she realized, she'd never see him the same way again. She could never forget the look of the dying man, the slow dullness in his eyes as darkness began to take him. Even after, and she was confident there would be an after, when he would look into her eyes with a renewed sense of vigor and vitality, she would always see the eyes of the dying man. She would remember the old man that hid underneath the skin of the young one.
Clara bit her lip as the screams grew louder and louder, until suddenly they stopped. And everything, even the hum of the TARDIS' various mechanisms, were silent. She turned slowly to face the Doctor.
His body lay on the TARDIS floor; the silver helmet hung several feet in the air, bobbing slightly. Even though he lay unconscious, Clara could see a physical difference in how he held himself. He wasn't hunched over in the way an old man does just to lessen the pain; his back was straight, his legs twitched slightly as if raring to go.
Clara ran over to him and through her arms around the unconscious man. "Doctor! Doctor!" She cried, unable to hide the excitement from her voice.
He grumbled and swung one of his arms around her. "Clara..." He said weakly, his eyes still closed.
"Doctor, it worked!" She ran her hand down his face. The color had returned to it and it had filled out, softening the protruding bones. The dark circles under his eyes had disappeared, and there was a tinge of a smile on his lips.
"Yes, I think it did." His eyes fluttered open and he broke into a full, goofy grin.
Clara slid off of him and pulled him to his feet. He was wobbly for a second, but he remembered quickly and was soon jumping around the control panel as if the last day's events had never happened.
"Doctor, take it easy." Clara cried.
"Not now Clara, later. Later I'll take it easy. But right now, let's get out of here. I believe there was a Beatles concert you wanted to see?"