Okay, so hi! I'm kinda new here, so be nice and please review. I know this first chapter is short, but bear with me. (By the way, as I don't curse, I will be using "stars" as a stand-in.)

I stagger through my blue doors, sad knowing that it would be the last time my eyes would see my beautiful blue box again, at least not with these eyes. Pity, I had quite liked my eyes this time. They were a deep blue, accented by my graying brown hair. I laugh at myself. I'm dying, and these are my last thoughts? Ridiculous.

I groan. I won't last much longer.

As I limp through the TARDIS, I run my hand over the console one last time. I press a few buttons to navigate, but I mostly just let the TARDIS choose. She likes it when I acknowledge that she's the one in charge of where we go. I moan and grit my teeth. Looking down at my hands, I can already see faint golden wisps of light flowing from them. I start to cry, though I try not to. I don't want to be sad. I saved Earth once again, so this life had not been a waste. Outside, everyone is celebrating, finally breathing after days of fear. Still, I can't stop a few golden tears from burning down my face. In my defense, regrowing every cell in my body is excruciating. Watch me in my final breaths, trying to explain myself to whom, myself? I can be so sil-

"Arhh!" I scream. I can't stop the tears now. They burn away my skin cells which regrow milliseconds after they are destroyed. I usually am stronger than this. I usually can hold it in, but this time is different, this time I have nobody, nobody in the universe. The last time that had happened was seven regenerations ago. Back then I said, "I'm fine," way to much. I was one of those people, suffering in the darkness of their hearts.

"Not this time," I tell myself. "Whoever comes next, don't mess it up. Whatever comes next, don't blame yourself. You have a tendency of punishing yourself when you feel guilty, but you don't deserve that." I step into the TARDIS, I run my hand across the control console one last time.

I hunch over in pain, groaning. It hurts so much. "Stars." It was hard trying to give oneself a speech while one was dying. "Just remember that you need to travel with someone. Remember not to push others away."

I throw my head back and scream in agony. Before my vocal cords are disintegrated and regrown, I tell myself one last thing, "Remember." My face bursts into light along with the rest of my body and I finally let go.

After what seems like hours of the agonizing pain of regenerating (it was probably just seconds, but stars that hurts), I finally open my brand new eyes to see the changed interior of my TARDIS. I smile and take in a breath of that new-timelord smell, seeing the TARDIS always cheers me up. I sigh and get to work, I need to check out my new body. Running up the stairs to where I left the costume room last, I do a one-over in the cheval mirror there. Stars. My last self had an awful sense of fashion. I'm wearing a leather jacket over a neon orange button-up and a light-up now tie around my neck. To complete the ridiculous look, hot pink converse adorn my feet. I sigh. I really need to get myself together. After the shock of my outfit (neon orange should be illegal), I move on to my new self. From where I stand, I think I look pretty good. I have darker skin, but I don't think I'm African like I was last time. I have wavy black hair that runs down to my jawline in the front (still not ginger) and stunning green eyes. I'm not a total mess this time at least, though my ears are a bit conspicuous and my eyebrows are particularly aggressive. Something is off, though. Something I can't quite place... Hmmm. I squint in the mirror trying to figure it out.

"Stars! I'm a teenager!"

Yes, there it is. I can see it now. After 39000 years of time travel, I have been reduced to the hormone-ridden state of adolescence. I wonder if this is cosmic pay back for all those times I acted immature in one way or another. It's all Eleven's fault. If he had straightened up, I wouldn't look like one of the least respected creatures in all the universe. Okay. Okay. I can deal with this. At least I don't have acne. Oh my stars, what if I get acne? Calm down. I've saved universes and I'm worrying about acne? What is wrong with me? I must have a partly teenage consciousness too, otherwise I wouldn't be so vain.

I can't fix this, so might as well fix this outfit. I shed the offensive clothes and start searching for a new outfit. I can't decide, so eventually I just settle for a bright green sweatshirt and grey jeans. Finally, I'm ready to go out. I slide down the new spiral staircase to the TARDIS control room and walk out her beautiful doors.

"Hope you picked something good this time," I called back to the TARDIS, remembering the one time where she took me to a spa planet for some relaxation. Most boring week ever. No monsters, no enemies, no long corridors to run down. There weren't even diverse species considering it was a human settlement.

Taking in my new surroundings, I wonder of she took me out for another "relaxing" trip. I'm in what looked like a large, old-timey town. I pick up a small rock and lick it, drawing stares from the inhabitants of this place. Just my luck. More humans. Having finished my taste analysis of the soil here, I decide I'm somewhere in America at around... May 28th 1893. Eww. If the TARDIS had to take me to Earth, did she really have to take me here? Oh well. Might as well make due. The TARDIS will get touchy if I don't stay for at least an hour. I'm sure something here will catch my attention.

I stand on the street corner for another five seconds before I get bored and start looking for trouble instead of waiting for it to find me. Luckily, it doesn't take long. I spot three blondes closing in on another girl holding a laundry basket. The way they move is almost predatorial. They push the other girl to the ground, making her drop her laundry basket, and I realize what is going on. They're bullying that poor girl. Well, I can stop them. I hate bullies, at least I did last time. Not as interesting as Slitheen, but why not help her out? If I'm lucky, It'll take at least fifteen minutes to sort everything out. Even if it doesn't, helping others is what a Doctor does, right? I'm not quite sure anymore...

I start to walk over to the girl, but I am too late and someone had already gotten there in the short time it took me to decide what to do. I hurry faster as I feel that whoever got there will take the side of the pretty blondes over the African American laundry girl. By the time I get there, I realize in shock that the person who beat me there had not only taken the side of the laundry lady, but had already driven off the attackers and was helping the other girl off the ground. Wow she's fast.

I walk up to the girl and introduce myself. "Hello," I say with a voice crack. Being a teenager is the worst. "I saw what happened. Is everything okay?"

The girl helps the laundry one to her feet and looks me up and down with silvery eyes, cocking an eyebrow. After an incredulous look she says, "No, sir, everything is all right", in a thickly american accent, then turns back to the laundress, picking up a pair of beat-up spectacles and handing them back to her. She then starts piling the fallen clothes into her friend's basket.

Her laundriness looks up at me through her newly restored glasses and gives me a tight-lipped smile before saying, "Thank you for asking, sir, but I'm fine." Her voice is higher than the first girl's and much more timid.

"Good, good. I'm the Doctor," I say. "And you are?" I tried to smile comfortingly.

The laundry girl looks at her friend uncomfortably and she just shrugs. What did that mean? "I am M-M-Marietta, sir," she stutters. "Are you enjoying the fair?"

"What fair?" I ask stupidly.

The other girl finishes her task and stands, laundry basket pressed between one of her hands and her hip. "The one you're in, sir." I could practically hear the idiot that belongs in the place of the 'sir.' "The Chicago World Fair?"

"Oooh," I say. "That fair. Yeah. I totally knew that. Are you enjoying the fair?"

The brunette glares at me while Marietta stares down at her shoes and says, "I, um, work here, sir."

I blush. How could I be so stupid? I should have been able to tell this. After all, she did have a laundry basket. I hope I hadn't embarrassed the poor girl.

"Well, thank you for your concern, 'Doctah,'" the glaring friend huffs, making fun of my accent, "but we must get going. A pleasure meeting you." She smiles snidely and hurries away, her unburdened arm wrapped around Marietta.

Sorry for the lack of action in this chapter. I promise it gets better as time goes on. Hang in there and please review!