A/N: This was inspired by all those angel quotes in Doctor Who. I don't know how I came up with this! It's my muses fault. Disclaimer: Don't own Doctor Who
Vincent Van Gogh was, as the Doctor had said brilliant. And of course, he could see things other beings couldn't see. Which means that one of his parents had been of a long dead race called the Colorseerers. Or in a more scientific name, the Opaquecolorimetry.
They were invisible beings and they could see the world as painted in colors. See the swirling of the stars and the beauty of all things. Sort of like a sixth sense instead of the usual eyesight. The Doctor had puzzled how the Opaquecolorimetry had managed to reproduce with a human, but had soon given up. Impossible things do happen. Of course, the problem with this race was that Vincent saw the Doctor for what he really was.
The first time Vincent had seen him, he hadn't given him a second glance. He was not painting, so his mind had subconsciously turned his 'second sight' off. However, when Amelia had gone for a short walk before bed, Vincent had been looking at the stars thoughtfully and of course, the Doctor not yet knowing of Vincent's unknown and concealed ability, had panicked immediately when Vincent had screamed.
The Doctor tensed.
"What? What is it?! Do you see the creature? Where is it?"
The Doctor spun around in curiosity looking for any sign of the creature that had attacked them earlier.
"No! Who are you?!"
The Doctor turned.
"What? I said, I was the Doctor."
"Y- y- you've got wings!"
"What?"
"Big feathery white ones!"
The Doctor's brow furrowed in concern.
"Are you okay?"
But unbeknownst to him, he did indeed have wings. Beautiful ones at that. They were snow white and all around them gold and yellow regeneration mist sparkled and swam. They were really quite perfect and silky, the Doctor however could not sense them in any way.
Vincent spluttered soundlessly for a few minutes, and opened and closed his mouth like a codfish.
"You have wings!"
The Doctor looked behind him. Nothing.
"Are you SURE you're alright?"
"Doctor! You. Have. Wings. They are right there!"
"Nonsense! I would have hit somebody with them!"
The Doctor spun around again.
"See? Nothing there."
And there wasn't, the Doctor truly couldn't see anything. Vincent brushed one with his hand. To the outsider he looked quite crazy. The Doctor stiffened suddenly.
"Did you just touch it?"
Vincent glared at the Doctor and yanked on the wings with an air of self righteousness. The Doctor cried out and tumbled to the ground. "Ouch!"
"Now, do ya believe me, Doctor?"
The Doctor looked up into the red head's eyes and nodded mutely. As soon as the Doctor had gotten to his feet he reached around to his back and tried to feel for something. There was, frustratingly enough, nothing there. Vincent tugged on the wings again and the Doctor winced.
"Really, could you stop that?"
Vincent shrugged. He then grabbed the Doctor's hand. The Doctor didn't notice of course until he felt the wings as if they had just sprung out of nowhere.
"I can feel them!"
He looked behind him and there springing out of the tweed were long, silky wings. Thank heavens they weren't gray. He noticed something hooked around their bases, a thick gray band.
"Could you get that off?"
Vincent saw it and nodded. As soon as he let go, the wings vanished. Vincent unclipped the band and gave it to the Doctor. Upon inspection he realized that it was a high level perception filter, well, the closest thing to one that there could be. What this piece of machinery did in particular was cloud all senses to the existence of the mysterious wings.
As soon as they were freed, the wings seemed to fan out and light up the dim area in their golden brilliance.
"I'm never going to be sneaking anywhere ever again."
He sighed. Vincent only stared. Then Amelia Pond returned from her walk and of course the screaming continued.
DWDWDWDWDWDWDW
Several nerve-wracking days later (and the unfortunate discovery that his wings were very clumsy about flying) after the incident with the Krayfis, the Doctor found himself sitting half in his TARDIS with his feet dangling in space.
Amelia had retired to bed long ago and he found himself alone. His wings, he had discovered, were somehow in a sort of separate dimension- though it isn't like that at all just easier to say it that way- so they never got in the way. It was convenient and impossible. Of course, unfortunately for him, the saying 'I'm possible makes up the word impossible' was all too true.
As he sat and gazed at the stars thinking about his impossible wings- words of a French girl floated back to him from across the scattered memories of his tenth regeneration.
"One may tolerate a world of demons for the sake of an angel." Those words rang true, quite literally now, and the Doctor wondered if she had known.
The big, vast, ridiculous, universe moved on as the madmen with the wings that lived in a big blue box gazed at the stars, nebulas, planets, galaxies, and just the wonder of that beautiful strangeness we call the universe, smiled into the night and spoke, "Miracles do happen."
And so, they do.
A/N: You know the drill, please review!