The regeneration energy finally left the Doctor, who grabbed the railing inside the TARDIS and took a few heavy breaths. At the moment, the TARDIS was orbiting somewhere in Orion's Belt—where, exactly, didn't matter at the moment. What did matter was that the Doctor wasn't who he used to be. This regeneration felt significantly different than the others, and after eleven of them, The Doctor should have expected the same thing.
Oh, hell, no—was the first reaction—I haven't regenerated into an Ood, have I?
A hand flew up and felt the mouth. No tentacle-things. The Doctor couldn't place where that fear had come from, and wondered if random thoughts were part of this new regeneration.
A slower, calmer evaluation began, starting with the feet. Old shoes—got to go. Shoes kicked off. Old trousers, slightly ragged from the latest adventure. The Doctor felt the thrill of realizing a new wardrobe was needed—it was refreshing. Then again, having an entirely new body was refreshing, too.
Oh, the bowtie has got to go… the Doctor suddenly remembered, and hands flew up to the neck to remove the tie, and as the Doctor looked down, something else was noted.
The Doctor gasped and grabbed the railing, closing eyes for a moment before continuing the examination. Unashamedly (the TARDIS was empty, after all), the Doctor ran hands down the new torso and all the way to the new knees, and grabbed the railing again.
"I—" the Doctor said, hearing the new voice for the first time, "—I'm a woman!"
And she pulled forward her new, shoulder-length, wavy hair. "And I'm still not ginger!"
