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She lay on the floor of her TARDIS for 100 days, reliving her life in her mind’s eye, going over every important detail.
Their birth, their many deaths, their fights with the Doctor. Their plans, every one of them failed. All the way up to their last failed plan, a hundred days before, when he’d shot the Doctor in the back and crawled back to his TARDIS and pulled the lever to leave just in time to regenerate into this new form.
This new form that collapsed onto the ground and stared at the ceiling for one hundred days.
“Don’t let me go back to being me,” he’d said.
“Don’t let me go back to being me,” she spoke again, this time from the floor of her TARDIS, her voice hoarse.
“D- wait a second,” she said, sitting up suddenly, looking down at her body, still clad in robes. She felt her body up, her chest.
“I’m-“ she started, and then jumped to her feet, running to a mirror where she promptly stripped.
“I’m a woman,” she said finally, with awe. “I’ve never done that before.”
A wicked grin crossed her face, but a soft feeling entered her soul.
This was entirely new. She was entirely new.
“Maybe I don’t have to be me after all,” she said softly, spinning and taking herself in.
She grabbed her stereo remote to turn it on, and the TARDIS was filled with music.
Oh Mickey, you're so fine
You're so fine, you blow my mind
Hey Mickey, hey Mickey
Oh Mickey, you're so fine
You're so fine, you blow my mind
Hey Mickey, hey Mickey
She danced and glided, and then a thought came to her. She shut off the music
“Mickey. Missy. Mistress, Master,” she said, her mouth forming each word carefully, and then she begun to sing it herself.
“Oh Missy, you're so fine
You're so fine, you blow my mind
Hey Missy, hey Missy.”