Adaptation
It was all getting rather silly.
One would think that after completing a mission for the most powerful being in the known universe and quite probably saving said universe in the process that she and the Doctor might have a few less arguments. But no, he'd learnt absolutely nothing, and since he was clearly not going to do anything to make the situation more agreeable then, as a civilised and dignified Time Lady, it was up to her.
It took some time for Romana to work out what precisely she should do, but one morning, as she sat in front of the mirror brushing her hair, the answer suddenly appeared, and she smiled at her reflection. There was a little sadness at the realisation, after all this incarnation had been perfect during her Academy years: brilliant, dedicated and possessing the quintessentially Time Lord laissez-faire attitude that meant her instructors always gave her the benefit of the doubt and that she was never late for class.
But it simply wouldn't do now. She needed to be someone softer, more relaxed. Someone who found the Doctor's wit amusing, and who could enjoy travelling through the cosmos without worrying about how it would affect her reputation back home. I do want to stay, she realised with a shock, I really do want to stay.
In her room, she locked the door. She needed to concentrate for this, for although the theory was perfectly clear to her, she'd never actually regenerated before and it was bound to be challenging. It was a comfort that the Doctor seemed to manage it well enough, and she very much doubted that he prepared himself before he went through the trauma.
In fact, from what she could gather, given that the Doctor had a tendency to exaggerate, obfuscate and even just outright fib when it suited his ego, he only regenerated when he died. Romana gave a delicate shudder, for it was a dreadful notion and must be rather painful. Indeed, it seemed a very silly and wasteful reason to regenerate. Romana had no intention of dying more than once, preferably after a long, exciting and notably academic life.
Now she stood in front of a floor length mirror and studied her form.
This was the surface. She could keep it, but having the same appearance with a new personality would be rather disconcerting. Her personality, now she knew what she needed that to be - she had it clear and polished in her mind - but what would be an appropriate appearance? She could do something drastic, but she wasn't quite adventurous enough to contemplate changing her species-appearance, or even her gender. No, she would remain a female humanoid. But even then, there were so many things to consider: her height, the colour of her eyes, the shape of her breasts. She sighed. Even the slightest mistake could lead to disaster - they had spent enough time amongst more primitive humanoid species for her to learn that much.
The answer was, naturally, astonishingly simple. She didn't need to create a new body at all, she already had dozens to choose from. It would be quite acceptable to select one of them, for there really was no reason to suppose that, given the infinite size of the universe and her free reign of it, she was ever going to run into the same people ever again.
It took only a moment for her to decide. The Doctor had, after all, seemed very protective of Princess Astra; very taken with her. Some strange twinge of a foreign emotion had made her recall those early biology lessons, decades before she had taken up the temporal sciences, and there was definitely something about tension and sex and how one could lead to the other. Something like that. And there was undoubtedly a lot of tension on board the TARDIS at the moment, but it didn't seem to be quite the type required. Perhaps her second incarnation would have better luck.
Taking a deep breath, Romana looked into her eyes and smiled and silently said goodbye.