The TARDIS screamed as She landed into reality a fair sight higher above the ground than She'd originally intended, smashing into buildings and nearly decapitating a couple of people who cared for one of Her passengers – cared too much. They'd given her the access, and she'd taken it, and used it, and may Time itself protect them because the universes were already fracturing for them.
It was how it would have to be. The only cure for this monstrous ill that good intentions had inflicted. Amputate the gangrenous limb and cauterise the resulting wound with fire.
One hundred and forty years worth of timeline shimmered into existence in Cardiff out of nowhere, and She screamed again, even as She hit the pavement and finally stilled.
A few moments later, so did Her Doctor.
Her Doctor? She didn't know anymore. And that scared her.
For the first time in Her life, She hated one of Her passengers.
She hated Rose Tyler.
Not for accessing the power, no. That had saved Her Doctor and despite the damage done, millions of life-forms torn apart and one put back together in a monstrous parody of Life, She couldn't hate Rose Tyler for wanting that.
No. It was for the fact that She had looked into Rose Tyler as Rose Tyler had looked into Her, and now She knew and could never not-know, and She would have to live with the consequences, and that She would never forgive, never.
Regeneration was easy. In fact, he'd recover much better inside Her, this wasn't the worst regeneration he'd had, and how dare Rose Tyler have him taken away? But then, she knew too, didn't she?
Because now the TARDIS understood something about young human women.
There wasn't one alive that didn't stare at the man they loved and wished for the power to change that one little thing that drove them mad.
And She, in all her foolishness, had poured reams of power straight into Rose Tyler. And Rose Tyler had in turn poured it into the Doctor.
Brand new face, brand new man. Brand new Doctor, tailor made for Tyler tastes.
The worst of it was... he would love Rose Tyler for it.
He had been made that way, too.