Author's Note: When I wrote this, I was thinking of the 11th Doctor—but, truth be told, this could also work just as well for the 12th. Either way you choose to picture it, this would be within a week or so of having regenerated, in a rare bit of downtime.

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. *sigh* Sadly.

He woke suddenly, as though a switch had been flicked in his mind. One moment, the absolute quiet of sleep; the next, the darkness of his bedroom and a full wakefulness. He sighed. An odd sensation flooded his consciousness. He felt as though he were floating. That is, his mind, his self, his…soul, floating inside his body, his shell. He held out his hands in the dark and flexed his fingers. The movement almost belonged to someone else. He sat up in a violent motion, and rolled off the bed to his stocking feet. He paced in little circles, rubbing his hands together as was his habit. This time, though, he was trying to ground himself, to shake that strange, almost out-of-body feeling that took him sometimes in the quiet. In the dark.

It was no good. He walked out of the room and wandered into the twisting corridors, heading nowhere in particular but wanting to shake the strangeness that had settled over him. Somehow, on the way to nowhere, he had stumbled into the dim control room. He looked up at the central column and scrubbed his hands over his face. Then he smiled softly.

"Hello, dear," he whispered. An equally quiet hum, almost imperceptible, responded to his words.

He strode up the steps to stand before the circular set of controls and ran his fingers over the panel. The lights raised slowly in response to his unspoken thought. He smiled again, his eyes filled with a fondness reserved for his one and only constant. The feeling of disconnect between the man he was on the inside and his present body had begun to fade. He sighed heavily and leaned forward, resting his forehead on the glowing central column. In time, he knew, the bond between his mind and body would be better. In time, he would be accustomed to his new casing, as it were.

His lips quirked into a wry smirk. Casing… Like the sonic screwdriver—same software, different case. In time, this new form would be him, and not some stranger looking back at him when he saw his reflection. And in time, too little time, he would surely be forced to change again. He would have to get used to living in his own skin all over again.

But that was not today. No, today was for testing the limits and going on adventures and experiencing life in new ways, with a new face and—possibly—new friends.