(no subject)
Title: Treatise on the Psychological Causes, Manifestations, and Ramifications of Regeneration
Author: Kiara Sayre
Rating: PG
Summary: Romana thinks about regeneration, the Doctor thinks about trandimensional modulators, and K9 contracts laryngitis for no reason.
Notes: Written for ionlylurkhere, with the prompt "Something about why Romana chose Princess Astra's body." From there it kind of...evolved. Apologies for lateness; real life bit me in the bum...so this is also, unfortunately, unbeta'd. ^_^;;
It was after assembling the Key to Time, foiling the Black Guardian, installing a randomizer and going Rassilon-alone-knew-where that Romana began feeling a bit…odd.
She was in the console room, playing fetch-the-random-and-elusive-bit-of-information-from-your-databanks with K9 and icing her ankle (which had unfortunately not held up properly in their most recent escapade courtesy of the randomizer). The Doctor had decided he needed a transdimensional modulator despite Romana’s insistence that he didn’t (and he didn’t) and was in one of the spare-parts rooms, probably getting distracted by every random piece of machinery he came across.
Romana shifted the ice-pack on her ankle as the robotic dog before her finished describing the treatment of an inflammation of the human larynx. “K9,” she asked hesitantly, once he was finished, “what do your information stores say on regeneration?”
K9’s ears twisted a bit, like they always did when he was thinking. “Insufficient context, Mistress.”
“Time Lord regenerations. The process of changing the cells in one’s body to appear completely different and have slightly different psychological features but maintain basically the same.”
His ears twisted again. “No data found, M-M-Mistress.”
Romana frowned. “None at all?”
“No, Mistree-eesssss-ss.”
She sighed, and put her head on one hand. “My thesis is on the psychological effects of regeneration - did I ever tell you that? The section on exotic symptoms was the most interesting. Radical personality changes, the onset of semi-Freudian complexes, even pathological megalomania.” She frowned again. “I never finished it. I completely forgot that I never finished my own thesis.”
K9 burbled something unintelligible.
“What was that?”
He burbled again.
Romana got on her knees and looked at him. “K9, are you all right?”
“Found it!” The Doctor entered the console room holding an outdated, bulky transdimensional modulator.
“Doctor, I think something’s wrong with K9,” Romana said, barely glancing at him.
K9 let out a startling series of croaks in agreement.
“Oh dear,” the Doctor said, dropping the modulator and joining Romana. “This can’t be good. Do you have a tongue depressor?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A stick, Romana, a stick!”
“He can’t actually fetch, Doctor, you know that.”
“I mean - oh, never mind.” The Doctor popped a panel off K9’s body and began poking around his innards. “You know, I never had this sort of problem with the Mark One.”
“Doctor, may I ask you something?” Romana asked slowly, watching him pull out wires and circuits at random.
“Ah, well, you already have, so I suppose one more won’t hurt.”
“When I was at the Academy, I came across a holoimage of you while I was researching my thesis.”
“And?”
“And you looked different.”
“Well, it’s been quite a long time.”
“You’re only 759, Doctor - most of the members of the High Council are three times that and have only regenerated once.”
The Doctor put down his screwdriver and turned his attention to Romana. “Perhaps you’ve noticed, Romana, that the life I lead is quite different from that of a High Council member.” He went back to K9. “I doubt any of them could possibly comprehend what it’s like to run for one’s life, or start a revolution, or die of radiation poisoning.”
“Yes, but I still don’t - ” Romana quieted suddenly in surprise. “Doctor,” she said, “are you saying that you died?”
“Well, it’s not as though I’d’ve regenerated if I had a choice in the matter, is it?” replied the Doctor, his voice echoing strangely - most likely because he’d stuck his head inside K9.
“No,” said Romana after a moment. “I suppose not.”
“Pass me the spanner, would you?”
“It just seems very unpleasant, that’s all,” Romana added, passing the Doctor the requested item. “Dying, that is. Very chancy. What if the regeneration fails?”
“What?”
“Of course, I suppose everything we do is chancy. There really is a lot of danger. And excitement, of course. And I certainly enjoy it.”
“Romana - ”
“Only I’m not certain I’m the same person I was when I came here. Was assigned here.” She frowned. “I don’t even know any more. I don’t mind, really, what’s done is done and I’m here now, but it is - disconcerting.”
The Doctor pulled his head out of K9’s body. “Romana, I haven’t heard a word you’ve said.”
“Oh,” said Romana, before shrugging. “It wasn’t important.”
“Good,” said the Doctor, grabbing his spanner once again, before stopping. “Why did it come as a surprise that I’d regenerated?”
“What do you mean?” Romana asked.
“Well, it says so in my official biog. It even lists them, if I’m not mistaken.”
“That’s it, then - I haven’t seen your official biog. Not all of it. Just heard passing mentions of you - you know, stories at the Academy, that sort of thing. Borusa mentioned you fairly often.”
“Did he really?” asked the Doctor, looking delighted and preening himself.
“Yes. Of course, the context - well, never mind.”
The Doctor looked for a moment as though he was considering getting offended, before shrugging it off.
“Well, Borusa…great teacher, mind you, I learned a lot from him, but…”
“Was it painful?”
“Borusa?”
“Regeneration. It’s not something that’s usually spoken of on Gallifrey,” Romana added hastily, “and I have to admit, I’m - curious.”
“Immensely. Not so much the first time, though, but that one was mostly voluntary, not out of necessity.”
Romana raised her eyebrows. “There’s a difference?”
“Oh, yes.” The Doctor paused, and looked around. “Where did I put the span - oh, thank you, Romana.”
She looked briefly down at her ankle, and took off the now-melted ice pack. “Do you need anything from the kitchens?”
“What?”
“I’m going to the kitchens for ice. Do you need anything?”
“Beg pardon?
“Never mind,” she muttered to herself, hobbling out.
She did go to the kitchens, and get fresh ice; but then she returned to her quarters and retrieved a heavy sheaf of papers from her desk.
As she read it, she wasn’t impressed, but she wasn’t tempted to burn it, either - she supposed that must have been one of the idiosyncratic responses of the Doctor. The work had potential, of course, but in retrospect it lacked perspective, lacked - she wasn’t entirely sure.
There were several options before her at this point that she could consider. She could rewrite the thesis, adding in examples and data collected in the recent months with the Doctor; she could continue with the thesis as it was; or…
Romana put the papers aside. The urge to forget the thesis entirely and go back to the console room with the Doctor was nearly overwhelming, but a small yet distinct part of her rebelled violently at the thought.
Perhaps, she thought, eyeing the mirror, it’s time for a change.
For her first regeneration, though, she wasn’t certain she wanted to try anything too extreme. She wanted an appearance that was plain but attractive, one that wouldn’t attract too much unwanted attention but could manage a respected, possibly even regal air…
Regal.
“Well,” Romana said after a moment, “I suppose it’s worth trying.”
Author: Kiara Sayre
Rating: PG
Summary: Romana thinks about regeneration, the Doctor thinks about trandimensional modulators, and K9 contracts laryngitis for no reason.
Notes: Written for ionlylurkhere, with the prompt "Something about why Romana chose Princess Astra's body." From there it kind of...evolved. Apologies for lateness; real life bit me in the bum...so this is also, unfortunately, unbeta'd. ^_^;;
It was after assembling the Key to Time, foiling the Black Guardian, installing a randomizer and going Rassilon-alone-knew-where that Romana began feeling a bit…odd.
She was in the console room, playing fetch-the-random-and-elusive-bit-of-information-from-your-databanks with K9 and icing her ankle (which had unfortunately not held up properly in their most recent escapade courtesy of the randomizer). The Doctor had decided he needed a transdimensional modulator despite Romana’s insistence that he didn’t (and he didn’t) and was in one of the spare-parts rooms, probably getting distracted by every random piece of machinery he came across.
Romana shifted the ice-pack on her ankle as the robotic dog before her finished describing the treatment of an inflammation of the human larynx. “K9,” she asked hesitantly, once he was finished, “what do your information stores say on regeneration?”
K9’s ears twisted a bit, like they always did when he was thinking. “Insufficient context, Mistress.”
“Time Lord regenerations. The process of changing the cells in one’s body to appear completely different and have slightly different psychological features but maintain basically the same.”
His ears twisted again. “No data found, M-M-Mistress.”
Romana frowned. “None at all?”
“No, Mistree-eesssss-ss.”
She sighed, and put her head on one hand. “My thesis is on the psychological effects of regeneration - did I ever tell you that? The section on exotic symptoms was the most interesting. Radical personality changes, the onset of semi-Freudian complexes, even pathological megalomania.” She frowned again. “I never finished it. I completely forgot that I never finished my own thesis.”
K9 burbled something unintelligible.
“What was that?”
He burbled again.
Romana got on her knees and looked at him. “K9, are you all right?”
“Found it!” The Doctor entered the console room holding an outdated, bulky transdimensional modulator.
“Doctor, I think something’s wrong with K9,” Romana said, barely glancing at him.
K9 let out a startling series of croaks in agreement.
“Oh dear,” the Doctor said, dropping the modulator and joining Romana. “This can’t be good. Do you have a tongue depressor?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A stick, Romana, a stick!”
“He can’t actually fetch, Doctor, you know that.”
“I mean - oh, never mind.” The Doctor popped a panel off K9’s body and began poking around his innards. “You know, I never had this sort of problem with the Mark One.”
“Doctor, may I ask you something?” Romana asked slowly, watching him pull out wires and circuits at random.
“Ah, well, you already have, so I suppose one more won’t hurt.”
“When I was at the Academy, I came across a holoimage of you while I was researching my thesis.”
“And?”
“And you looked different.”
“Well, it’s been quite a long time.”
“You’re only 759, Doctor - most of the members of the High Council are three times that and have only regenerated once.”
The Doctor put down his screwdriver and turned his attention to Romana. “Perhaps you’ve noticed, Romana, that the life I lead is quite different from that of a High Council member.” He went back to K9. “I doubt any of them could possibly comprehend what it’s like to run for one’s life, or start a revolution, or die of radiation poisoning.”
“Yes, but I still don’t - ” Romana quieted suddenly in surprise. “Doctor,” she said, “are you saying that you died?”
“Well, it’s not as though I’d’ve regenerated if I had a choice in the matter, is it?” replied the Doctor, his voice echoing strangely - most likely because he’d stuck his head inside K9.
“No,” said Romana after a moment. “I suppose not.”
“Pass me the spanner, would you?”
“It just seems very unpleasant, that’s all,” Romana added, passing the Doctor the requested item. “Dying, that is. Very chancy. What if the regeneration fails?”
“What?”
“Of course, I suppose everything we do is chancy. There really is a lot of danger. And excitement, of course. And I certainly enjoy it.”
“Romana - ”
“Only I’m not certain I’m the same person I was when I came here. Was assigned here.” She frowned. “I don’t even know any more. I don’t mind, really, what’s done is done and I’m here now, but it is - disconcerting.”
The Doctor pulled his head out of K9’s body. “Romana, I haven’t heard a word you’ve said.”
“Oh,” said Romana, before shrugging. “It wasn’t important.”
“Good,” said the Doctor, grabbing his spanner once again, before stopping. “Why did it come as a surprise that I’d regenerated?”
“What do you mean?” Romana asked.
“Well, it says so in my official biog. It even lists them, if I’m not mistaken.”
“That’s it, then - I haven’t seen your official biog. Not all of it. Just heard passing mentions of you - you know, stories at the Academy, that sort of thing. Borusa mentioned you fairly often.”
“Did he really?” asked the Doctor, looking delighted and preening himself.
“Yes. Of course, the context - well, never mind.”
The Doctor looked for a moment as though he was considering getting offended, before shrugging it off.
“Well, Borusa…great teacher, mind you, I learned a lot from him, but…”
“Was it painful?”
“Borusa?”
“Regeneration. It’s not something that’s usually spoken of on Gallifrey,” Romana added hastily, “and I have to admit, I’m - curious.”
“Immensely. Not so much the first time, though, but that one was mostly voluntary, not out of necessity.”
Romana raised her eyebrows. “There’s a difference?”
“Oh, yes.” The Doctor paused, and looked around. “Where did I put the span - oh, thank you, Romana.”
She looked briefly down at her ankle, and took off the now-melted ice pack. “Do you need anything from the kitchens?”
“What?”
“I’m going to the kitchens for ice. Do you need anything?”
“Beg pardon?
“Never mind,” she muttered to herself, hobbling out.
She did go to the kitchens, and get fresh ice; but then she returned to her quarters and retrieved a heavy sheaf of papers from her desk.
As she read it, she wasn’t impressed, but she wasn’t tempted to burn it, either - she supposed that must have been one of the idiosyncratic responses of the Doctor. The work had potential, of course, but in retrospect it lacked perspective, lacked - she wasn’t entirely sure.
There were several options before her at this point that she could consider. She could rewrite the thesis, adding in examples and data collected in the recent months with the Doctor; she could continue with the thesis as it was; or…
Romana put the papers aside. The urge to forget the thesis entirely and go back to the console room with the Doctor was nearly overwhelming, but a small yet distinct part of her rebelled violently at the thought.
Perhaps, she thought, eyeing the mirror, it’s time for a change.
For her first regeneration, though, she wasn’t certain she wanted to try anything too extreme. She wanted an appearance that was plain but attractive, one that wouldn’t attract too much unwanted attention but could manage a respected, possibly even regal air…
Regal.
“Well,” Romana said after a moment, “I suppose it’s worth trying.”