Regeneration by Niki

The figure in the smoke coughed and looked around in confusion through the haze and dark, alarms sounding and lights flashing. Some of those lights were red. Ignoring the rest, flashing red lights usually meant something bad was happening. Or has happened. Or will happen.  Chronology was sometimes a hard thing to understand, especially in here.

"In here," the figure thought, recognition sparking. They searched through the haze of memory and smoke for the exit, stumbling towards it as if they were relearning to control their limbs. Gasping and coughing, they reached the door and lurched through, arms and legs moving the right way as much by coincidence as by intent.

The figure emerged, momentarily blinded by the sun, and turned to see smoke escaping from the blue box. "Something’s not quite right," they thought, taking an awkward walk around the box, which was only a few paces per side. “Of course," they exclaimed, puncuating with a snap of the fingers, "bigger on the inside! And why shouldn’t it be?” Memory began to flood back, a jumble of images and sensations, deeds great and small, enemies and companions.

The change had happened unexpectedly, there hadn’t been any time to prepare. The circumstances were a blank, as if the memory had simply been erased. One moment they were one way. The next moment, they were another. The intervening events gone, like pages torn from a book.

“Well now, let’s see if we can get this sorted,” they said, as if talking to an audience. That no one else was there didn’t seem to matter. “Hmmm, it’s just not working quite right” they said taking a few more experimental steps, arms and legs going where they should now. “It’s not the clothes, though they don’t fit right,” they said, shaking their head at the previous one’s fashion sense. “No, it’s almost as if something… is… missing.”

Realization dawned. “THAT explains it,” they said, reaching down to check. “Of course my gait will be thrown off without those bits bouncing around down there,” hands continuing the exploration. “Yes... hips, hipper, body curvier. Ah, there’s heart two, and heart one…” Heart one forgotten, she looked down, newly formed breasts straining the fabric of her shirt. “Well, it’s about bloody time,” the Doctor said, and collapsed.