A tingling sensation awakened her. She could see nothing save for a pulsing murky greyish blue. Whatever she was lying on was hard and cold, but it's impossible to be sure. This body was still cooking which is enough to confuse the senses.
"Eyes experiencing—some kind of failure. Smell also completely nonfunctional. Temperatures could be back to front. Taste…" she touched her tongue to the bitter surface that she lay on, "…inappropriate."
The drone of the time rotor and the chirp of the instruments on the console that remind her of where she is, of what's going on. Her eyes focused just as yellow mist subsided into her long slender fingers. She opened and closed the hand to test it. The blue cashmere jacket of her predecessor was too big. Her hands barely poked out past the sleeves and the cuffs of the oxford shirt were so wide she could pull her hands out without unbuttoning them.
She clicked her teeth together and then swept her tongue over them. "Big teeth," she said, jumping at the sound of her own voice. She hadn't noticed it before. Instinctively she tugged a handful of hair into view. Long, wavy strawberry blonde. She pushed herself up and walked to the TARDIS console. Her eyes had adjusted enough for her to work at the switches and levers, but her cumbersome clothes snagged and caught on the controls.
Arching an arm up over the buttons, she continued with her work until a live feed of her fizzled into view on the screen above the control panel. She stood average height with a slender frame. A hand went to her chin, which had been a distinguishing feature, but had been replaced with a more subtle curve. Her lips seemed big, had she hit them on something? And blue eyes. The coat was making them appear even a deeper shade.
"Young, ginger and female," she gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth. "Do I sound American?" She turned to either side to get a better look at her face. "Four things that assure no one will ever trust a word I say again." A strange feeling washed over her that she couldn't remember feeling before. She leaned back against the console with her arms folded. "How did this happen?"
The TARDIS, in response to her inquiry, projected a holographic diagram of how Regeneration effects Time Lord Physiology. "Yes. I already know all of that," she said as she stepped away from the console throwing her arms up as if to challenge the ancient ship.
A line of text stood out from the ramblings of the lesson displayed in the air before her. She read it out loud. "A Regeneration can subconsciously or actively be tailored to what the Time Lord most requires? What do I require?"
Silence will fall.
"Oh. Perhaps this isn't so bad. The greatest trick the Doctor ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist—best way to go about that is making the man a myth and becoming…" she cut herself off there as she glanced up at the screen above the console. "Trenzalore still? Best not to dwell in my future." She threw the lever to dematerialize the TARDIS.
The Doctor was forced to feel her way along the hallways of the TARDIS to keep her balance. Regenerations had a tendency to be tricky, this one wasn't nearly as problematic as the last. She headed for the wardrobe to find something that fit.
Maybe the outfit that she picked off of the rack was anachronistic, but that was the point of having a time machine: a grey-green coat that belled out around her waist Victorian style, but the upper half exposed her neckline and shoulders. Two elastic straps secured it just off the shoulders. The pants below the coat were white striped with the same dull green. She changed in the middle of the wardrobe, leaving the clothes in a tight little pile on the floor. She grabbed a parasol, a purse and slipped into a pair of green boots on her way out.
She opened the purse and slid the parasol inside until the length of it vanished into the much smaller bag. The Doctor slung the strap of the bag over her shoulder and headed out to the console room to add the Sonic Screwdriver to its contents. "Sonic in the handbag. Boots on the feet," she paused. "Going to have to work on that whole talking to myself thing."
The TARDIS's parking brakes, as River had jokingly called them, groaned. Rain wrapped on the outside of the TARDIS. The Doctor checked the date and location on the screen above the control panel. Earth 2014.
"I'm going to need this." The Doctor hooked a single finger around the curved handle of the parasol and drew it out of the handbag. "There's a storm coming."