I suppose I'll never wear a bowtie again, he thinks, as he unties the fabric from his under his collar and pulls it out for the last time. He feels strange, holding it in his hands, like he has just pulled off one of his legs or an ear, because really, that was what the bowtie had become for him in his long, long run; a skin and bone extension of himself. Taking it off makes him feel emptier, as though the soft pressure, the familiar, comforting presence that has accompanied him around his neck for over 600 years has gone, forever and ever, and left a gaping hole in its place. It hasn't abandoned him, though, just… left. As though it was time for it to leave and it had wasted no time and simply gone.
After all, (he thinks, with a tired grin) bowties are for floppy hair and big chins, like fish custard, fezzes and tweed jackets. Whoever came next was going to be the Doctor, new face, new hearts, new eyes to see the world with wonder renewed, but he wasn't going to be him. No more funny faced, raggedy man with the hair of an idiot and the legs of a mad giraffe. No more 11th Doctor (sod all those technicalities) the mad man who looked out of his box and saw a little girl who wasn't afraid, who made it all the way to Trenzalore with nothing else than a bit of fabric and green sonic screwdriver.
He drops the bowtie to the ground, and it seems to fall like a heavy weight. I won't be needing it anymore, he thinks, sadly, because he really won't, not now or ever again. He threw it away like it didn't matter, but, really, it was quite the opposite. It mattered too much.
The next Doctor will be different, and I really don't want him to wear it. He shouldn't, because he won't be me. He'll have never worn it on this neck or tied it with these fingers. He'll never be me, but that's okay. Things change all the time, and that's okay.
After all, there was only one man in the universe who would believe so vehemently, with complete confidence and not a single fraction of doubt that bowties were, in fact, utterly and completely cool…
…and that man was about to die.
…
I wrote this mostly while on the verge of tears. I'm so sad right now, because he's gone forever now. My raggedy, bow tie wearing idiot. Gone.
