Your regeneration is unexpected, but feels good. You let it come naturally, immediately, rather than resisting and causing explosions when you let go. Quickly, quietly, painlessly. Alone. You expect to be a middle-aged man, maybe blonde this time, and you are blonde – you're just not a man. You're thin, and wobbly, and your centre of gravity has shifted, and suddenly balancing is odd, because there's weight up north rather than down south. Long blonde hair cascades down past your shoulders, curling at the ends, lightly brushing the top of your breasts, and you slowly walk out of the console room towards your bedroom.
Everything seems different, from the perspective of a woman, and you frown lightly as you see a book resting on your bedside table about timelady physiology. I'll read it later, properly. Probably. You don't feel quite as bookish as your last regeneration, though calculations are beginning to spin through your head, whirling in spirals and soft waves. You feel…creative, maybe. You kick off your shoes, wincing at your old man socks, peeling them off with a severe "No."
Stripping off your suit, you hang up the main articles of clothes, patting your 'magician coat', before hanging it up on a handy rail. Already, your room is changing around you, morphing and experimenting with new styles. You like the dark blue of the ceiling, and mentally request to keep it, and the charcoal walls and spongey, carpeted floor, as they pass by. You let the TARDIS decide the rest of it, pushing open a door that appears, to discover a bathroom. Going inside, you find a mirror and still, observing yourself.
Young. Mid-thirties, late twenties. You have green eyes and ivory skin and you wonder when you'll be darker – it should have happened at least once by now, statistically, though seeing as you're a woman for the first time, and that's statistically more likely than changing ethnicity, well…
Sweeping a hand through your hair, you pull it back, just knowing you needed a hairband, or this would just get out of hand. Multiple shades of blonde. A spectrum. You twist your face side to side. It seems more triangular without your hair framing it. Ears aren't as big as nine's by far, but stick out as much, if not more. You drop your hair, endeavouring to have a shower instead of finding the wardrobe. When in the shower however, it becomes apparent that you're going to need more practice with this body – shampooing at least. Exploring and experimenting went fine. Also, apparently you have to condition, too, because the TARDIS wouldn't let you out of the shower cubicle until you had. Three times. To be quite fair though, each time you tried you didn't get the entire part of it.
Afterwards, you dry off, then walk into the waiting wardrobe only covered with a towel, and a new problem is presented to you – picking clothes with one hand, because the other one is too busy holding up the towel. Tying it off like you used to do around your waist didn't work because of the new obstacles on your chest. The TARDIS helps out by picking out a selection of underwear early, labelling each different type. You know what most are by looking at them, what they do – River had needed supportive ones, with underwire. From previous companions' complaints about running, you take note to wear sports bras when you plan on saving the world.
Of course, it's only once you actually get a set on, that the TARDIS starts ringing out a distress bell, and you run to the console room to see what's wrong. When you get there, the bell stops ringing, because someone is pressing a button. You stop in the doorway, both taking in your new console room – light and airy, but with dark wooden floors and glass gates around the centre console, which is this beautiful cream and gold masterpiece that looks something between your eighth body's console and the original interface, in a smooth hexagonal shape – and keeping a sharp eye on the robot dog that is currently recalling a long antenna from it's head from beneath the TARDIS console.
"Mistress," the dog's mechanical voice is altogether familiar and scratchy. Something niggles in your mind, a memory resurfacing from thousands and thousands of years ago. "Mistress, the TARDIS has informed me that you require a new companion, while you get used to your new body."
"…K9?" You ask mutedly, quiet as you stare at him, shocked. "K9, is that really you?"
"Yes, Mistress." K9 trundles over, bumping against your leg. "If Mistress would get dressed, it would be much appreciated."
"…yes, of course," but you crouch down first, setting a hand on his metal head, revelling in the fact that one of your oldest buddies is in front of you. "Would you like to come help me pick, treasure?"
"If Mistress wishes for me to help."
"Oh, I do, K9," you say assuredly, nodding.
"I would like to express my sentiment for what you have chosen so far, Mistress," K9 adds. You chuckle, looping a thumb under your dark blue bra strap, pinging it lightly.
"Thank-you, I like it too. Now," you stand straight, "keep up."
"Yes Mistress."
You eventually choose an outfit. It's decidedly plain, and twenty-first century. Your French navy trousers come up to your waist, held together with a line of buttons, and your crisp, soft, white button-down is tucked into it tightly. You roll the sleeves up after barely a moment's thought, and you tug a thin, brown leather watch onto your wrist, alongside a few black hairbands – one of which you immediately use to tie up your hair.
"K9, where were you all this time?" You ask as you walk around the console, bare-footed, plucking your new sonic screwdriver from a cylindrical tube. You eye it – your new sonic is thinner than you've had it in a long while, shiny, silver, and with a soft green light on the end. There's a clear screen, above the button, which seems to be at the same time a kind of touchpad, probably for the screen for settings and suchlike.
"I was in the storage room, Mistress," K9 replies clearly, "My previous model is still with Master Luke and Miss Sky at Bannerman Road."
"Just Luke?" You glance at K9, frowning. "What about Sarah? And who's Sky?"
K9 pauses before answering in a rather slow voice, "Mistress Sarah-Jane passed away in two thousand and eleven, Mistress." You flinch unexpectedly. You hadn't known. "Miss Sky was Mistress Sarah-Jane's second adopted child, whom she adopted a year before her death. She is now in the custody of her brother, Master Luke."
"How did she die?"
"Cancer, Mistress. She passed away peacefully, however."
"Good," you breath, before looking for a pocket to tuck your sonic screwdriver into. "Oh, no pockets. That was…unexpected." You stand still, not really knowing what to do with your new sonic now you don't have pockets. Donna had mentioned a lack of pockets before, in her dress. Was this what all female clothes were like?
"Mistress could put her sonic screwdriver in her hair," K9 offers, and you glance at him before taking his advice, finding the sensation odd, but not unpleasant.
"It'll do," you decide, before inputting coordinates. "Let's park you somewhere – that'll give you some more time to settle, while I have some fun." You use the stabilisers for once, not wanting to cause any undue pressure on her systems while she was still calibrating. Landing with a dull clang, you go to the doors, K9 at your heels, and open them up to thirty-eighth century Pablova. Why someone would name a planet Pablova escapes you.
"Let's explore," you say to K9, exiting and locking the door after making sure K9 was clear, tucking the key in your bra beside your psychic paper, stealing the trick from River. It wasn't like you were going to let anyone in there any time soon. Walking into the crowd, you look around, playing with your wristwatch as the lack of pockets causes your hands to find something to do.
Soon, you come to a public stage-play, sitting down with the locals – two-headed beings who lived rather like the aplans, but with eight arms in addition to the usual two – watching the benevolent ruler in the drama knight a commoner for saving her sons from cybermen. You watch with interest, and when it finishes, you wish you had pockets as you leave, so you could have dug out a coin or something to throw at the stage like many of the others around you.
You continue to explore the city. You join in a group tour that's going around soon enough, enjoying the commentary on the history of the city, buying a pair of thin, sturdy boots to pull on your feet as you do. It's only when a cyborg on holiday mentions the lack of androids and robots that you realise that K9 is nowhere to be found.
"K9?" You call, turning your back on the group. There's no mechanical voice calling out to you, muffled or otherwise, and you turn back to the group as the tour guide replies.
"That is because Pablova has a strict ban on any conscious robotics, after the Great Invasion. After the cybermen were defeated, the Empress made it illegal for any robotic entities to roam the streets – cyborgs, of course, fall under the local galaxy laws of non-hostility towards other lifeforms, and are of course, exempt."
"Excuse me," you interrupt then, getting their attention, "does this law include robot animals? Because my dog isn't here." The guide's eyes went wide.
"You brought a robot into the city?"
You glare, clenching your fists, "Where can I find K9?" Someone snorts in the tour group, but you're too angry to join them – too angry at the laws, too angry at your own stupidity. You should have found out if either of you were in danger by coming here.
The guide looks at you warily, before pointing behind you. Turning, your eyes stop on a giant stone tower that emits a thick smog from its tip.
"We call it the Great Smelter. All robotic lifeforms are crushed and melted down."
You suck in a breath, and start running.
"I've been alone too long," you say out loud, staring at the ceiling of the TARDIS. You need a new Rose – a human who can bring you back to reality. You've travelled the universe for so many years, survived so much, but you're back to that place – albeit a different sort of place – where you can't recognise what you need to do or what you need to understand. Your eyes shift to K9, where he's recharging in a little kennel under the console.
He nearly died because you were too used to not having someone to care for. As much as a robot can die, anyway.
Shutting your eyes, you kick off a little on the wall, your fabric hammock swaying a little, but not much, hair drifting in the breeze. You'd come back to find it here, a couple of feet from the corridor leading deeper into the TARDIS, and it was exactly what you needed while your thoughts were this weighty.
"I need a new human," you state, wondering what they'd be like, once you found them. Would they be young? Old? An alien, rather than a human? Would they like running – would they like adventures? Opening your eyes, you get off your hammock, approaching the console, tying up your hair again from where you'd undone it. Sweeping over the console, you turn on the randomiser, leaving the stabilisers on as the TARDIS begins to fly. You grin, looking at the yellowed glass cylinders go up and down as you're knocked sideways, only your experience saving you from dropping to the ground.
"Where are you taking me today, my beautiful one?" You call out, not expecting an answer as your journey through the vortex ends with a bang. Smiling wider, you rush to the doors, opening them wide, only to stop as you're greeting with Darillium. "But…" you can see yourself in the distance, saying a last goodbye to River – not that your wife knows it. You go to shut the doors, but they refuse to budge as your past self steps into his TARDIS and disappears, leaving River to program her vortex manipulator.
One of the doors to the TARDIS suddenly moves, and the extra strength you'd put into closing it cause it to slam in place, a giant, giant noise echoing across the land.
River looks up.
You stare at her, eyes wide as you lose balance, falling sideways into the TARDIS, behind the door. You struggle to get up, and when you do, she's already waiting in the doorway.
"Hi," you breathe, staring at her, and oh, you'd forgot, you'd forgot how this felt. You'd forgot how beautiful she was – forgot how each of her curls reflected the sun, and how her smile could light up your entire life. "Hi."
"You already said that," she looks at the new TARDIS console. "I'm going to assume you're not the Doctor."
"Not?" You squawk, getting up onto your feet, the unexpected draft causing you to wriggle your toes. "Of course I'm the Doctor! Please, don't do this with me again – I have no desire to hear you say anything like monoliths can't love a person back, or anything silly like that." River stares at you, at that, before quirking her lip.
"I never expected you to regenerate into a female."
"Well, neither did I, truth be told," you play with your watch, biting your lip. "Uh, I had the randomiser on. I don't know why she brought me here to you…I wanted to find a human companion to travel with, actually."
"Oh?" River looks around again. "You don't have one hiding anywhere?"
"No," you reach forwards, boldly taking her hand, pulling her lightly into the TARDIS, snapping your fingers to shut the doors. You motion to K9, shrugging. "He's the closest I have to anyone right now."
"You should never travel alone."
"I know," you say, and her hand is soft in yours, warm. It reminds you of your past, of all your history and friends. "Many of you all have told me this. But I'm older than Rassilon – I forget these things."
"Older than Rassilon?" River's obviously shocked, but she still steps closer, into your space, taking your other hand, your faces nearly touching. "Doctor, how long have you been alone?"
"Long enough that I'm having difficulty in knowing how to care. K9 nearly got destroyed because I forgot he was at my heels." You swallow, feeling the guilt well again. River kisses you. Everything feels warm, and soft, and those specific feelings are River's now, you can't help it, the association. She cradles your head, and you grip her waist. She's taller than you, but it doesn't matter – it just gives you a different perspective.
This regeneration is all about a new perspective, it seems.
"I love you so much," you whisper when you finally part, sucking in a breath. River clutches you, pressing your foreheads together.
"Mother sent you here to be with me, for a little while at least. You can't go straight into the deep, my darling, you have to start at the shallow end."
"And you're the shallow end?" You smile a little, pressing a kiss to River's lips before standing back, holding her hands tightly. "I highly doubt that."
River laughs, rich and mellow, and you haven't heard it in so long. Your eyes slip shut, and you bask in it, before lifting your eyelids only a touch, watching her through your eyelashes.
"Well, maybe that was the wrong metaphor to use. I've just spend over twenty four years being terribly happy with my husband, and now I get to spend another indeterminate amount of time with my wife. A lot's going on."
But you beam at her, not caring. Because she just called you her wife.
"My wife," you murmur, smiling widely, tracing her cheek with your thumb, before hugging her tightly, laughter bubbling in your throat. "I love you so much."
"And I love you too," she replies, squeezing before letting you go, looking at your console. "Now, teach me how to fly with your new desktop." You nod, pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips before sliding over to the controls.
"Randomiser – on," you press your finger against the already-flipped switch. "Coordinates dial, unlocked and waiting," you brush a knuckle around the cream border, before reaching over to flip a lever, causing the TARDIS to being to wheeze and tip. "And here we go!"