Doctor Her; A genderbent fic.
Featuring: Time Lady the 12th Doctor, regeneration reason TBD in future chapters. Eventually falls in love with a man who helps her re-start the Time Lord species (spoilers, sweetie!). This fic follows her adventures and intergalactic time travel escapades!
A/N: I intend to make this fic echo the drama of the DW series (as in; funny episodes and then stop-your-heart emotion). I'm not saying I'm going to pull it off /well/, but I'm sure as hell going to try.
/
The Doctor coughed, hand reaching up to grasp the neck desperately. Clawing. Air! The Doctor need to breathe. Regeneration was still underway; lungs weren't fully developed yet. Lifting the torso, the Doctor looked down. Legs were developed. Right then!
The Doctor sprang up, racing towards a mirror at the back of the TARDIS, near the messy pile of clothing the Doctor owned.
"HA!" A loud, triumphant scream. "I'm ginger!"
A moment of silence.
A bit of grappling, all around the torso.
"And I'm…"
One more grab, down at the crotch. Something was missing.
"And I'm a … girl."
/
The first thing on the 12th Doctor's to-do-list was to find a companion. And not any companion; she meant to go back and find every last one of them to ask them what happened. Still in her regenerative state, she didn't quite have all the memories of what had happened to end her time as the 11th, and so to expedite it she needed to talk to everyone.
The last: Clara. But too soon; she'd likely been caught up in whatever the issue was, and would be the hardest to find. The oldest within the modern century: Rose. But she wouldn't know, unless she was pulling that Bad Wolf business again.
No, the 12th decided, she needed someone new. Never mind trying to remember; she would in due time.
But she needed someone to speak to.
And something to do.
/
Thankfully, someone was summoning the TARDIS. Quickly prancing around and pulling on the controls, pushing buttons and tugging down levers, the TARDIS was well on its way towards a planet.
"Right then." The 12th jumped up, rubbing her hands together with glee and running to the TARDIS' door. "Where are we?" Throwing open the door, she drank in the sunlight and grinned, arms open wide in exultation.
Loud cries broke her reverie, however, and several humans dressed as if in the early 21st century gaped at her and pointed.
"What?" She looked right, left. "What, what?" And then she looked down.
She had dropped trou.
"Oh!" Her mouth formed into a perfect circle. "Right. My clothes as the 11th. Right. Female now, and considerably smaller." She pulled an arm through the sleeve of her tweed jacket, marveling at how it hung about her limply instead of fitting nicely. The crowd's murmurs, however, grew louder, and she found this a good moment as any to bow out with a cheerful "sorry!" and a bang as the TARDIS door closed behind her.
Back in the TARDIS, she stripped all of her 11th clothing, running to her wardrobe to the section that had previously helped Rose, Martha, Donna, Amy, River, and Clara. "Too big," she tossed out some clothing. "Too small." She tossed out some more. "Too… clashing," she said in disdain, "with my new red hair." Finally deciding on an off-white chiffon blouse reminiscent of her days as the 11th and a simple tie-front ribbon, she pulled on a pair of dark, slim-fit but incredibly stretchy jeans and a pair of Chuck Taylor gladiator shoes. "Not done yet…" Musing to herself, she found a fitted leather jacket, a hat's off to her time as the 9th. "Done."
Surveying herself in the mirror, the Doctor grinned and gave herself a satisfied nod. "I look like Amy! Except shorter, and less noisy."
And with that, she ran out of the TARDIS again, eager to find the next expedition.
/
The Doctor had taken no more than three steps away from her blue box until she found herself the victim of a bike accident. A tall man tumbled off his vehicle, the Doctor scrambling to her feet indignantly and stomping over to the bloke.
"Now look here, mister," she pulled out her psychic paper and flashed it at the man, who was still trying to get up a bit miserably. "I'm a rather important figure and you should look before crashing into me!" Hands on her hips, she looked around, squinting through the sunlight and trying to gauge where she was.
"The Doctor…" the man's voice cut through her thoughts, and she continued making conversation without realizing he had said so.
"Yes, of /course/, I'm the Doctor, that's what the paper says, isn't it?" She blinked. "Hang on. That's psychic paper, how would you know I was the Doctor and then see that materialize on the paper?" She slowly looked down, a wary look on her face. The man looked up at her, a sort of fear in his eyes, but not one that was entirely founded on fright. There was something more. Recognition.
"Mickey!" The Doctor grinned, reaching down to help the man stand up, stepping back to take a good look at him before giving him a great big hug. "Oh, you humans never stop surprising me. Mickey Smith, it's great to see you!"
Mickey Smith had no idea why a ginger girl was wrapping her arms around him, prancing around with the same leather folio the Doctor had for his paper. But he had a feeling he was going to find out.