In remembrance of the 11th Doctor, and the knowledge that all things change. Matt Smith was one of my favourite Doctors, but nothing can be forever. Thank you.
Warnings: Bit feely, little bit sad. But not angst.
Set in 11's last scene - Amelia, the Bowtie, the change. 11's point of view.
He would always remember when the Doctor had been him.
He had always wanted to be a hero. He had wanted a friend. He wanted to run around the swing and go down the slide backwards. That's why he had needed Amelia. His little Amelia.
He had been born out of solitude. This face had been born from loneliness and goodbyes, and footsteps in empty room, and a lost heart. He had been born alone.
That's why he needed those friends. To keep himself on the right path.
He had wanted to be a hero. Someone's hero. He certainly wasn't his own hero. No, he had had dark days, he had cast deep shadows, and he had heard the quiver of a heart and known the fear of death, the fear of oblivion, and the blame that weighed on his shoulders for eternity. He had killed people. Countless people.
He needed someone to prove himself to. Someone to prove he was a doctor, the Doctor. If he could show he was a good man, a kind man, a friend, then maybe he could really be the Doctor.
And the first person this face had seen - so young, full of wonder and excitement and acceptance. He was her Raggedy Man. The man who had promised her the stars. And in doing so, he had made a friend. And he had become the Doctor. There was a purpose, a reason, a need to be the Doctor, to show what the universe was really like. It was dark and bleak and angry, and bright and full and happy, and it was so much more. It was the amber's of sunrise, the taste of exotic alien fruits, it was the dust that swirled around a recently colonized planet. It was noisy intergalactic garbage trucks, and whimsical things like Fridays and Saturdays, and a thousand other things. And it was hope. Hope to survive, to thrive, to live life well. To make your story a good one.
He had done that. Endeavoured to make his story a good one. His hearts were in the right place.
That was why he had let Amy go. She wasn't Amelia any more. And he was no longer her hero. He would always be her Raggedy Man – but he couldn't keep Amelia forever.
All children grow up. The Doctor knew this more than most.
He had been a child once, a very long time ago.
But now he had grown up.
It was time for him to make room for someone else. Someone else who would be the Doctor. It wasn't him, but it would still be the Doctor. He was Amelia's Doctor. This new person would not be. He would die, like a normal human, and someone would walk forward and claim his name, his past, his memories. It wouldn't be him.
But it would be the Doctor.
Amy was right. It was time to say goodnight. All suns set. All fairy-tales end.
He tugged his bowtie gently, and it slid out of his hands and onto the floor. That bowtie had always been him, always been the essence of him, but he was leaving now. He was no longer that excited puppy with the floppy hair and delicate eyebrows. He would no longer be anyone's Raggedy Man.
"Please don't change."
That was something he couldn't promise. He couldn't dry those tears. He felt as if he had failed. Clara didn't need to cry. He would still be the Doctor, but he could not stay the same forever.
Even he couldn't break all the rules in the Universe.
He smiled.
He changed.
He stared at Clara.
Confused.
He was called the Doctor. He didn't know who he was, didn't know where this new personality would take him – he didn't even know if he was the Doctor any more. He might just be a man with a name. Or, more precisely, a man without a name.
Just because he had been the Doctor, it didn't mean he would continue to be so. People change. He was no exception.
If anything, he was an example.
There was something wrong.
"Kidneys! I've got new kidneys!"
He thought for a second.
"I don't like the colour." He admitted.
Thank you. To a magnificent era, and to the start of a new one. Scottish accent and all.