He was alone again. No one had seen him as he walked the short distance to Clara's house, her head pressed against his chest as he carried her bridal style from the Tardis. Clara hadn't even murmured as he tucked her in. The soft hum of the Tardis soothed him as he walked slowly across his darkened bedroom, leaving indents of large, bare feet in the carpet. He leaned close to the mirror to catch the faint light as he peered into his reflection's eyes. A slight gold hue ringed his pupils and began bleeding through the rest of the iris. Sighing, he stepped back into the dark and began fingering his bow tie. He liked this tie, the burgundy, the one that held so many memories. Now it had a tear on the right side, a hole with a charcoal rim on the left and a smear of some light powder across the middle. Complicated and broken. How many times had he felt that way? Unthinkingly he began to finger the hole, feeling his thumb rub against his fore-finger. He lifted the finger to his mouth and tasted it, the taste of smoke, fear and the aftershave Rory had left behind. With minds of their own, his hands unfastened the tie until it hung loose around his neck. Pulling it free, he wrapped it around his hand, until it was wound completely. Unfocused, the wrapped hand was dabbed against the dampness below his eyes, leaving a faint grey smudge on both cheeks. His hand dropped, his head fell gently back, and the tail of the tie slithered loose. Then the regeneration began in earnest, bright gold light bursting free, as the wine-red tie unwound itself and dropped to the floor.