"I still can't believe we're in Paris." Rory said over his shoulder as the four of them made their way to the Musee D'Orsay, each couple walking with their hands linked.

"Where're you planning to honeymoon?" Rose asked, stroking her thumb along the Doctor's, feeling the prickles of pleasure run from him to her with each pass. He hadn't let go of her if it could be helped, and any disconnection was brief. Croissants outside a cafe looking at the Eiffel tower had been a bit tricky until he finally relented that he was entirely too ungraceful to eat them one handed. He was covered in flaky crumbs by the time he was done, much to the amusement of their companions.

Or, at least one. Amy seemed to focus nearly all her attention on the Doctor, giving Rory some of her time as well, and virtually ignored Rose as much as she could. She laughed a bit too loudly at some the Doctor's quips which would make him fidget, glance at Rory apologetically before turning his gaze to somewhere else and gripping Rose a little tighter. She didn't need the bond in full use to know he was uncomfortable with the attention Amy was paying him now, no matter how much his big ego loved to be stroked.

It was Amy's suggestion they go to the museum, one she pleaded for with a pout and a tight grip on the Doctor's arm. Over kill when it was made clear by everyone that the idea had been a good one.

She and Rory led the way, following roadsigns and verbal direction from the Doctor. Rose noted that their hand hold was looser than the one the Doctor and her shared, as well as the distance between them. Too much for a couple who was supposed to be getting married.

"We were going to just spend some time in Cardiff." Rory said, his voice louder than Rose anticipated with a particular emphasis on the past tense. "Amy works in London, and that's where my Dad lives, so we thought Cardiff might be a nice, quiet spot to honeymoon." He looked up at the quickly approaching museum. "Thought a lot of things."

"Oh, hush up. Can't complain about missing Cardiff when we're in Paris." Amy said, closing the distance to nudge Rory with her elbow.

"Yeah," was all he said, and like that the conversation was shut down.

Rose glanced at the Doctor in time to see him sigh.

She didn't dare ask what he might have been seeing, didn't really need to to know it likely wasn't going the way it should.

They entered the museum with a flash of psychic paper and slowly made their way through the rooms and floors in relative silence broken only by the occasional comment.

"Stone carvings?" Amy asked as they passed through the room slowly, taking their time to look at the pieces.

"Looks Greek." Rory commented, reaching up and running his finger over the base of might soldier.

"Roman," The Doctor said with a knowing smile. He pointed to the far corner of the room, and Rose followed the direction with her eyes until she'd seen the all too familiar statue of Fortuna. She rolled her eyes and groaned, making the Doctor giggle and pull her quickly to him in a quick, tight embrace.

"How do you know for sure?" Rory asked, shifting to study a depiction of Venus.

"Oh, might have been there for a couple of these." The Doctor replied cryptically. "Rose too." He said as she spotted something that made her breath catch. She stepped away from the Doctor, letting go of his hand with a whiny protest from him inside her mind that she promptly ignored.

"Wish I was for this one." She said as she drifted to the statue that caught her eye half way across the room. Without thinking, she ran her hand up the strong calf until she couldn't reach any more. She traced the lines of the torso and strong arms with her eyes, committing them to memory. "Who was the lucky artist?" She asked the blushing Doctor as he, Amy, and Rory came to join her.

He rubbed the back of his neck before his hands started flailing about. "Oh just a young, budding artist. Might have had a small problem with an off world issue."

"He looks grumpy," Amy said, crossing her arms and smirking. "Suppose he would be with those ears."

"Before or after you met me?" Rose asked the Doctor, fingers sliding around the ankle to the top of the sandal covered foot.

"Before 'it also travels in time.'" He replied. "Second last stop I made, I believe."

"Never seen this body so …." She didn't finish her sentence as she looked the statue over again, eyes lingering on the toga covered, but still well sculpted, backside. "Woman carved this, yeah?"

"Might've," The Doctor said, rubbing the back of his neck again. He met her eye just as the intense wave of jealous hit her heart, and grinned a bit. He knew how badly she often wished they hadn't been so foolish in those early days before he regenerated, and now she discovered another woman had gotten to see that much of him.

"He sorta looks like you." Rory said, halting any comments either she or the Doctor could have made about the origin of the sculpture. Rory squinted at it as he craned his neck up.

"Doesn't look anything like him." Amy scoffed.

"Sorta does," he said, stepping up beside Amy, pointing out the features. "Think the Doctor's nose is a little smaller, chin a little bigger, and he has more hair. But facial structures the same."

"Told ya," Rose said, smiling at the Doctor with her tongue between her teeth. "Though to be perfectly honest it's a bloody accurate copy. Tell me, Doctor, was the artist inspired?" She asked, pulling her hand away and crossing her arms, arching a brow.

"Oi, don't use my words against me. Yes, she was inspired, just not in the same way I was. See that look? Is that the look a woman infatuated would give me if that were the kind of inspired she was?"

"What are you going on about?" Amy asked, glaring at the Doctor.

He gestured loosely in the direction of Fortuna. "Rose is referring to a time I carved her liking into a goddess. But this," he said, pointing at the statue of his ninth form and moving his hand around. "This is nothing like that was. Was hardly that muscular. And you can be certain I was not wearing a toga."

"Can't be," Rose grinned. "Wore one when we went to Rome, didn't ya?"

"Wait, I'm confused." Rory said, turning and looking between the two of them while Amy continued to glare at the Doctor. "Sounds sorta like you're saying this is you." He said to the Doctor while pointing at the statue.

"It is me. Sorta me. Past me, back when I met Rose. Remember, Amy, when I said I had a Roman nose like Rory's once. That's the nose, and the ears, as it were. Didn't wear a toga, though, like I said to Rose. Was much more fond of denim and leather. Jacket, though, not leather pants. Haven't had an inclination to try such things and don't think I ever will." He rambled. "Let's see other things, shall we? Much more to look at than stone statues of Time Lords and their mates." He pointed toward the door on the other end of the room and moved.

Amy followed, looking at him suspiciously but not saying anything.

Rory came up to Rose as she made to follow the other two out of the room. "He's serious, isn't he? That that's him?" He asked.

"Yeah, s'him." Rose said, wringing her fingers a bit.

"So he, like, gets younger instead of older? Or …?" Rory asked as they followed the other pair into a room full of paintings. A man was discussing something to the group of tourists inspecting the pieces.

Rose laughed, not overly loud but enough to draw a few scowls from others in the room, especially their ginger companion. "Sorta." She replied to Rory with a smile, and he grinned just a bit and nodded, seeming to get that she wasn't about to discuss the topic in a room full of people.

"Rory, look!" Amy got his attention, waving him over to a painting she and the Doctor had been looking at. Rose followed even though she wasn't beckoned, and came up to stand on the other side of her husband.

He was looking at the painting quite intensely, and she had a fleeting thought about the glasses he used to wear as he squinted at a detail. Lacing her fingers with his, he whipped his head around in surprise.

"What is it?" She asked.

He looked back at the painting of a church at night. "There's a face." He said.

"A face?"

"Yes, a face, not a nice one, either. Look at the painting, Sweetheart, and tell me if you don't see evil in the window."

She stepped closer, taking in the brush strokes and the color before her. Her eyes scanned the canvas, skirting over a window before snapping back to the face clearly painted though easily missed. A chill ran down her spine, and she shuddered involuntarily.

"What?" Rory asked, Amy actually looking at her as well.

"Something very not good." The Doctor said before turning away and heading to a man dressed eerily similar to himself. "Excuse me," He interrupted, pulling out the psychic paper and flashing it. "If I can just interrupt for one second, sorry everyone, routine inspection. Ministry of Art and …."

"History." Rose offered.

"History, yes. Ministry of Art and History. Do you know when that picture of the church was painted?"

"Ah," The man perked up from the confusion that had clouded his eyes before. "What an interesting question. Most people …."

"I'm going to have to hurry you." The Doctor interrupted again.

"He's a fact checker." Rose said, stepping up beside her husband and resting her hand on his arm. "Doesn't need the long version, just the details. Wants to know if you can tell him precisely when the painting was painted."

The man looked flabbergasted, taking in her less than formal apparel before looking over the Doctor who still had the psychic paper in his hand. The man looked at it, did a double take, and flushed. "Between the first and third of June, 1890." He replied, speaking to both of them.

"Thank you, sir." The Doctor said as he flipped the billfold closed and tucked it into his inner pocket. "Nice bow tie, by the way. Bow ties are cool." He said to Rose with a wink. He then took her hand, glancing over his shoulder. "You two staying or coming?"

"Coming." Amy said decidedly as Rory looked like he may have had another decision in mind. "Where we going?" She asked as she headed toward them.

The Doctor didn't reply until the were a good distance away from the gallery, nearing the museum doors.

"We need to talk to Vincent Van Gogh." He said to Amy over his shoulder as he steered them in the direction of the TARDIS a few blocks away.

"What, seriously?" Amy asked. Rose felt the Doctor lurch to a stop, and she paused to see Amy had latched on to his other arm and beamed at him with wide arms. "We're seriously going to talk to my favorite painter of all time?"

"Didn't know he was, but yes, we are. He painted that church, obviously, was in his wing of the museum. And if he painted it then he knows about the face in the window."

"Face?" Rory said. "The very not good something you noticed was a face in a window and we're going to go talk to Van Gogh about it?"

"Yes, Rory, keep up." The Doctor chided as Amy let go of his arm to bounce around in a giddy circle before following them once again. "Shouldn't be there, so we're going to go and, um, make it not there."

"Great with words, you are." Rose said as they turned the corner, the TARDIS only mere feet away.

The Doctor snapped his fingers. "Know what word I can say, though?" He asked and she shook her head, mouth twisted in an effort to not let on how amused she was. He leaned in, "Fantastic." He said in her ear, and Rose really couldn't suppress the shudder than went through her. He chuckled smugly in his chest. "New new teeth. Can't wrap my tongue around French this time, though. TARDIS is doing all the translating for me. Aren't you, you sexy thing?" He asked upon entering their ship.

The Old Girl hummed a happy little sound, and Rose giggled.

"You two aren't going on behind my back are you?" She teased, the ship humming a chuckle as the Doctor gave a little "ha" as he bolted up the ramp.

"Pretty sure at this point, Sweetheart, this is a three way commitment. You're as bonded with this ship as I am, if not more." He said as she moved much more slowly up the ramp, taking her place beside him at the controls. He beamed, green eyes bright, and she realized this was the first time she was co-piloting with him since his change.

"You two have a very interesting marriage." Rory commented dryly as he and Amy came up the ramp and each sat in a jumpseat.

"That we do!" The Doctor replied as he and Rose moved about the console in perfect sync, sending the TARDIS on her way.

The controls felt different and yet entirely familiar with the guidance of the TARDIS in her mind as the changes were once more fed to her. Rose would catch the Doctor smiling adoringly at her, the expression unchanged through three regenerations. Four if she counted the one she was with in the dream state this mysterious She had sent them to oh so long ago.

She smiled back before dropping her gaze. Rose remembered that this She had had a problem with Time Lords. And seeing as how the Doctor was the last full blooded one, it did make sense that this woman would go after him. It made Rose antsy, knowing someone was out to get him, knowing that She had already sought him out twice while Rose was unable to do anything.

"Don't worry about it." She heard him in her mind, and she looked up to see him grinning a bit wider. "Does it hurt?" He asked with so much hope it leaked through to her.

She stretched her mind out toward him, the ache still there but not nearly anywhere it was before. She opened her bond with him up a touch more, and he shut his eyes in ecstasy as she caressed his mind with hers.

"What's with your face?" Amy asked, and the Doctor's eyes popped open and he looked at her with a stunned expression. It was sort of adorable, especially with how his ears went red.

"Heading to the past, yeah?" Rose spoke up, saving the Doctor. "Should hit the wardrobe, blend in a bit."

"Blend in?" Amy asked, not looking at Rose but at the rotor bobbing above. "Didn't blend in when we went to see Churchill."

"Don't always, but it does help." The Doctor said, and Amy arched a brow at him. "What?"

"Why should I change? Didn't once, not a single time. Hell, went on Starship UK in my nightie."

"Amy," Rory said, getting her attention. "Maybe we should?"

"Didn't in Venice."

"We sorta did."

"We borrowed clothes and were back in our own in no time. Sorry, no, not changing." She cleared her throat, looking pointedly at the Doctor.

He met Rose's eye, cringing a bit. "She's right, they did walk around in their twenty-first century clothes. You know that there are perception filters about us that make people not notice these things. Maybe we shouldn't worry about it too much?"

Rose stared him down, watching as he began to fidget and couldn't hold eye contact too long, looking at the glass floor instead of at her or anyone. She glanced to Amy who was subtly smirking at the Time Lord.

"Fine," Rose said evenly, and the Doctor jolted at the simple word. Eyes wide, skin paler than normal, she could feel his rising panic through their bond. "Just let me change my jumper." She said with a tight smile before heading for their bedroom.

The TARDIS tried to sooth her, but it wasn't helping. There had been lots of women over the last hundred years that tried to lure the Doctor, get their way with him. Hell, she'd lost count how many attempts there'd been on her life by those who coveted what was hers. But those women never bothered her because aside from their wanting what they couldn't have there was another thing they had in common: the Doctor never paid them any mind. Oh, he'd flirted here and there, got himself into those situations with words he didn't mean that others put weight on. But Amy was different.

She wanted to like her, having heard snippets of stories the Doctor had told of their adventures while she was in the coma. She thought the woman capable, adventurous, and maybe like-minded. What she got was a woman who seemed to think she ran the show, and that was going to come to an end right quick.

Entering their bedroom, Rose stripped off her clothes. Feeling a bit inspired by seeing the sculpture of her husband's ninth body, she grabbed her black jeans, a black camisole, a blue short-sleeved jumper, and her black leather jacket. Amy could run about in her too short skirts, Rose was going to be practical.

After applying the little bit of make-up she'd still had the habit of using, Rose pulled a brush through her hair and then left the room.

The TARDIS landed with a shudder just Rose as reentered the console room, finding everyone was still exactly where they were when she left, no one seeming to have said a word since her departure. It was only then that she realized that there had been a little niggling of concern in the back of her mind that wasn't her own. She couldn't reassure him, but she did send him love. She barely knew this regeneration, didn't know how he would take being pushed completely aside so early on, so she held back her urge to growl just yet.

"Well, then." The Doctor broke the silence but not the lingering tension in the room. "Shall we see Mister Van Gogh?"

He extended his toward her, and she moved to take it. He relaxed under her touch, relief flooding their link as he guided her down the ramp.

He opened the door, and the cool night air enveloped them, making Rose thankful for her change of clothes and choice of jacket. They moved to the end of the alley, and Rose took in the simple, rustic structures that quickly became one of her favorite parts of traveling to the past. Architecture had hardly interested her a hundred years ago, but in her late forties she'd begun to have a great appreciation for it. The cobblestone walk, the high buildings with lines of clothes hanging in the narrow spaces, the arches over doors. It was all breath taking even now.

The Doctor hummed contentedly beside her, and he showed her through their bond how her eyes had lit up the moment they stepped out, and how these eyes adored it more than the last simply from having been deprived of that light for a week.

"That looks like the painting," Rory said behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see him pointing to a cafe a short walk away.

"Probably where we'll find our painter." The Doctor agreed, tilting his head toward it before leading the way.

Outside there were three people, all dressed in black and white. A man was at one of the outdoor tables, talking and smiling with patrons, while two women cleared tables closest to them.

"Good evening," The Doctor said once they got closer, and the man paused his conversation to turn toward them with a smile. "Does the name Vincent Van Goph ring a bell?"

The man scoffed. "Don't mention that man to me," he said before heading inside.

Rose looked up, seeing the same confusion she had marring the Doctor's features. He turned to the ladies behind them as Amy walked wandered a short distance away, a book from the museum in her hand. Rory stayed where he was, just on the outskirts of the tables, hands in his vest pockets.

"Excuse me, do you know Vincent Van Gogh?" He asked the women.

"Unfortunately." One sighed, and Rose heard Amy echoing the words with disbelief. "He's a drunk, he's mad, and he never pays his bills." She continued with only a glance at Amy.

"Good painter, though, eh?" He asked conspiratorially. He was laughed at for his efforts. "Oh," He mumbled, moving for a table and flopping down ungracefully. Rose sat down beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders. Rory sauntered over, pulled out the chair opposite hers, and leaned with his elbows on the table.

"How many times do I need to tell you not to meet your heroes?" She asked the Doctor. He groaned, whining a little as he rolled his head and looked off to the side. "Had this problem with Shakespeare, ya said Dickens let ya down a bit. Sinatra was a bit too flirty, and we both know it didn't go as you hoped it would with Elvis."

"Agatha was lovely though." He countered, and Rose had to agree with him there.

"You …," Rory got their attention. "You met Agatha Christie? And Charles Dickens and … Shakespeare?"

"Yeah, used to be big on introducing companions to authors. Though you never did bring Tim to meet Mark Twain."

"No, but he did get along quite nicely with Charlotte Bronte." The Doctor said as he smiled at the memory. "Emily was keen on him, and both had suspected he might make a proposal, though I think Anne thought them both a pair of dolts. Hope he didn't leave them too heartbroken."

"Come on, come on, one painting for one drink. That's not a bad deal." The three turned toward the cafe door as the man the Doctor spoke to early walked out with a ginger man following behind. The snooty one who had something to do with the cafe held a canvas in his hand, picture toward them, and scowled at the one making the deal.

"It wouldn't be a bad deal if the painting were any good." Snooty man in black and white scoffed. "I can't hang that up on my walls, it's scare the customers half to death. It's bad enough having you in here in person, let alone looking over the customers day and night in a stupid hat." The snooty man said as he held up a paint and compared it to ginger.

Amy, watching from the other side of the two men, was beside herself. Acting as though she'd met a modern day celebrity on accident, Rose could at least concede that her enthusiasm was perfect for one to travel with the Doctor.

"Is that who I think it is?" Rory whispered to her.

"Believe so," She replied with an upturn of her lips.

"I'll pay if you like." The Doctor said beside her, and she realized she'd missed the last bit of an exchange.

"What?" Snooty man asked with disbelief.

"Well, if you like, I'll pay for the drink. Or I'll pay for the painting and you can use the money to pay for the drink." The Doctor bargained.

"Exactly who are you?" The man Rose figured to be Van Gogh asked, eyeing the Doctor suspiciously.

"I'm … new in town." He said.

"What?" Rose asked him through their bond, arching a brow but making no other indication she though his answer was odd.

"He has a thing with Doctors. I want him to trust me, or at least be willing to hear me out at first. I say I'm the Doctor he goes running and we don't find that church."

"Well," Vincent began, "In that case you don't know three things. One, I pay for my own drinks, thank you." He said with pride despite those around him laughing. "Two, no one ever buys any of my paintings or they would be laughed out of town."

"Oi, come on now. He just said he was new in town, not that he was staying." Rose interrupted him, and Vincent looked at her with confusion. "Maybe he likes your painting, don't need to get so defensive mate." She added with a grin, tongue sticking out between her teeth.

He seemed mildly amused. "Then he can talk to me another time, but sticking his big nose in other people's business is rude." He then turned back to the Snoot. "Come on, just one more drink, I'll pay tomorrow."

"No," Snoot replied.

"Or, on the other hand, slightly more compassionately, yes."

"Or, on the other hand, to protect my business from madmen, no."

"Or…."

"Oh, look, just shut up the pair of you!" Amy said, breaking the men up and causing both to look at her. She walked right up to the Snoot, "I would like a bottle of wine, please. Which I will then share with whomever," She turned, looking Vincent in the eye. "I choose."

"That could be good." Vincent said, looking her over once.

"Bloody hell." Rory mumbled before burying his face in his hands.

"That's good by me." The snoot agreed.

"Good." Amy nodded decisively. "Right, you lot, inside." She said glancing at the table with her gaze gliding over Rose to favor a focus on the Doctor and Rory.

Rose sighed, pushed herself up, and made to follow Rory. Poor bloke looked like he was caught between exasperated and so completely unsurprised that it was just another day.

The Doctor's hand slipped into hers, causing her to pause. She looked up in confusion, and he mirrored it. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," She said with a shake of head, knowing it wasn't worth bringing Amy's behavior up at the moment.

They went inside, Amy and Vincent easy enough to spot with their ginger hair of different shades. Rory was speaking to a pair at another table, pointing to theirs as they came closer. The couple he was speaking to caught Rose's eye, raised seemed surprised, then gestured to the empty chair at their table and nodded.

"You can sit by me," Vincent said, louder than Rose was expecting. He was gesturing to the chair beside him.

"Thanks," She replied with a grin before sitting next to him. "Must say, your self portrait is pretty spectacular."

He glanced down at it, scoffed. "Spectacular in it's worthlessness, maybe."

"Don't say that," Amy chastised as the wine was placed before them with only four cups. She simply smiled at the waitress and turned her attention back to Vincent. "Bet it'd be worth a fortune."

"Couldn't even by me a drink, remember?" Vincent replied a she reached for the bottle and poured a glass. He handed it to Amy who accepted it with a twinkle in her eye, then poured another. He offered it to Rose.

"Oh, I can't." She declined with a smile. "Haven't been very well recently."

"Wine will fix what ales you." Vincent encouraged with a slight smile.

"My wife's physician said it was best she not." The Doctor intervened, waving it off before taking an empty glass.

Vincent shrugged. "Doctor's don't know everything."

"Course they don't, but why risk it? I'm the Doctor, by the way. The Doctor, not a Doctor, just so we're clear on the distinction. Rose, of course, and that's Amy and Rory." He introduced.

Rory waved, but Vincent hadn't noticed. He was staring at Amy, eyes fixed on her as he sipped from the cup he had previously offered Rose.

As the painter stared, the Doctor took the wine and filled a cup. He slid it down to Rory, managing to slosh about half on the table and cringing as it was quickly absorbed by the unfinished wood. He then took the last cup, poured, sipped, and grimaced.

Well that changed again. Wine had been pretty much like water to his last regeneration, especially French wine.

"That accent of yours," Vincent finally spoke, looking to Amy. "You from Holland like me?"

"Umm," She glanced to the Doctor, and he gave a very tiny nod. "Yes?" She replied.

Vincent grunted, took a sip from his wine. "Your hair is orange." He said as he leaned to across the table.

"Yes. So's yours." Amy replied, leaning in as well.

"Yes." Vincent agreed. "It was more orange, but now is, of course, less."

"And someone's is decidedly not." Rose murmured with a smirk, looking down at the table before chancing a glance at the Doctor.

He pouted, "Suppose you'd have liked if I were?"

"Doesn't really matter." She countered.

"Good. Think the brown is because you like it so much. But enough about hair, and colors, and not being ginger. Vincent, I was wondering if you've painted any churches recently. Any church plans? Are churches, chapels, religiousy stuff like that something you're like to get into? Preferably fairly soon?"

"Well, there is one church I'm thinking of painting when the weather is right." He agreed, downing the rest of his drink.

"That is very good news," The Doctor said with a growing grin, rubbing his hands together. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but a scream outside interrupted him, shouting about murder. "That, on the other hand, isn't quite such good news." He said before he got up in time with Rose and ran for the door.

Outside, they glanced around, noted the flow of the crowd, and took off at a run. They turned into the alley and stopped, the Doctor skidding with arms flailing.

"What happened?" Rose asked the nearest towns person who simply shrugged.

"Let me look, I'm a doctor." Her husband asked, parting the sea of people to get a closer look at the body. She crept closer, noting the blood pooling over the cobblestone, the way the woman's torso was ripped to shreds like her flesh was nothing more than the fabric that had covered it.

Ages ago, Rose had been mauled. They'd stumbled across a young family out in the woods of New Earth, and while trying to recreate old Earth camping traditions from the twentieth century they had attracted a very aggressive looking animal. The details were fuzzy, death having mingled with sixty-year-old memories, but Rose had thrown herself in between a little girl and a bear/wolf/something creature. It was nearly as painful as an explosion, and she knew her injuries weren't nearly as extensive as the ones that resulted in the death of the poor girl laying before her. Rory darted past, kneeling opposite of the Doctor.

"I can't find a pulse." He said.

"Optimistic of you to try." The Doctor replied as Vincent came up behind him, looking over the body.

"Away, all of you vultures!" A woman shouted behind her, and Rose turned in time to see her push through the crowd. "This is my daughter, Giselle." She knelt by her daughter's head, caressing her cheek. "Get away from her," She snapped at the Doctor, then to Rory.

"Okay," He said gently, standing, showing his hands as he backed off and toward Rose. Rory and Vincent did the same, but when the woman caught sight of the ginger man, grief was gone and replaced by utter hatred.

"Get that madman out of here!" She growled searching the ground for something before grabbing a stone and hurling it toward them. It caught Vincent on the arm.

"Get by the Doctor." Rose snapped as the rest of the crowd started to grumble, and she saw more than one hand search the ground for a stone to throw.

The next one hit her in the chest, a follow up on the arm, and she glanced over her shoulder to make sure that the Doctor, Rory, and Vincent were moving out of the alley. Amy was at the other end, and Rory quickly moved to shield her despite her shifting to try and get to the Vincent and the Doctor.

"Move!" Rose snapped, and Rory gave Amy a gentle nudge before she shifted. The Doctor gave a slight shove to Vincent before grabbing Rose's hand and pulling her along just as a stone hit her in the head. "Bloody hell!" She cursed as the ran a slight way down the road and away from the alley.

The Doctor moved to Vincent, checking on him.

"You alright?" Rory asked, letting go of Amy and coming over to examine Rose's head. "I'm a nurse, it's alright." He said as she arched a brow at him. His automatic response made her smirk, and she allowed him to examine the spot where the stone hit just shy of her temple. His touch seemed oddly familiar in a way she couldn't place, but he didn't let his fingers linger long enough for her to determine why. "Should be fine, I think."

"Tougher than I look anyway," She grinned.

"Has anything like this murder happened here before?" The Doctor asked Vincent.

"Only a week ago. It's a terrible time." Vincent replied.

"As I thought, as I thought. Come on, we'd better get you home."

"Where are you staying tonight?" Vincent asked, glancing first to Amy, then to Rose.

"Oh, you're very kind." The Doctor said as he clapped Vincent on the shoulder and started walking down the alley. "Sweetheart?" He paused a few feet down, turning to look at her.

"It won't be a terrible imposition, I hope." Rose said to Vincent, loosely holding his fingers. "He doesn't sleep, and I can nearly guarantee that I won't. Sorta just woke up from an … extended rest of sorts. Just would like shelter for our companions."

Vincent glanced at Amy.

"We need to stay with him until he paints the church." The Doctor's voice filled her mind, and she smiled a bit brighter.

"Alright, you lot can stay for one night." Vincent replied. Smiling, Rose pecked his cheek, catching him off guard.

"Thank you," She said before letting go of his hand and moving to stand with the Doctor.

"Lead the way," He said to the painter who nodded and moved ahead of him.

Vincent lead them through a maze of cottages where lines hung just over head to dry clothes. At least, that was their purpose, but Rose had noted a line in the distance that seemed to have papers hung on them instead. The closer they got the more she realized they were canvas, and it was quite obvious that this small cottage on the outskirts with a larger garden than most was Vincent's.

"Watch out," he warned as they got closer and he lit a lamp. "That one's still wet."

"What?" Amy said behind them, but Rose followed the Doctor and Vincent inside before she could hear what Rory was saying.

Inside, the entire cottage was like a small, humble exhibit. Paintings in various stages filled the space, put on display in their current states for no one but the artist to admire. It was in this space that Rose felt lacking. Architecture was a new found love but she still couldn't truly appreciate Art the way the Doctor, and apparently Amy, could. As she looked around, she could see the love and care that was put into each piece, but she could not truly pass judgment on their quality.

"Sorry about the clutter," Vincent said as he went about lighting lamps.

"Some clutter." The Doctor marveled, and Rose suspected that she was going to find an original Van Gogh piece hanging in the library when this was all over with.

"I've come to accept the only person who's going to love my paintings is me." He said as if he hadn't heard the Doctor.

"Don't know about that," Rose said as she watched her husband marvel at a piece that looked familiar but not yet finished. "Have at least two people here who appreciate what they're seeing."

"Wow," Amy said as if on cue, stepping into the house with a wide-eyed Rory behind her. "I mean really, wow."

"Yeah, I know it's a mess. I'll have a proper clear out. I must, I really must." Vincent said as he looked around the room like he didn't quite believe what Rose had said.

"Just need a better system to store your incomplete pieces, is all." Rory said, making to touch one and seeming to think better of it at the last moment. "Way to hang them out of the way or something."

"Perhaps," Vincent said as he removed his hat and looked to the floor. His eyes shifted up and around at the space, but instead of being thoughtful like Rose expected she noted the utter sadness behind them. Her heart clenched, and she felt a lump in her throat when she realized how little this man thought of himself. Vincent suddenly stood straighter, blinked, then looked around at his guests. "Coffee, anyone?" He asked as he moved into the small kitchen.

"Not for me, actually." The Doctor replied as he looked around.

"I'll have a go." Rose said with a smile, putting as much enthusiasm as she could for coffee behind it. It brightened the painters features just a bit as he went about making a pot. "Here, hold this a mo' while you're doing that." She said as she plucked up a painting of a basket of oranges before Vincent could set the pot down on it.

He snorted. "Didn't need to bother."

"Think I did." She said, holding the painting away from her for her inspection. "'S lovely. Not much for art, me, but I can tell ya this much: you paint colors so beautifully."

He grinned a bit wider, but his eyes didn't brighten any more.

"Right, so, this church. Near here, is it?" The Doctor asked from the doorway, and past him Rose could see Amy running her fingers lightly over paintings in the sitting room.

Vincent carried the pot and a couple of cups into the sitting room, and Rose followed. Setting them down on a table as Vincent glanced at Amy before looking to the Doctor.

"What is it with you and the church?" He asked as he started collecting firewood.

"Oh, just casually interested in it, you know?" The Doctor replied, hands moving about as if they had a mind of their own.

"Far from casual." Vincent replied as he stacked the logs in the fireplace. "Seems to me you never talk about anything else." He looked over his shoulder to Rose. "He's a strange one."

"Bit, yeah," She replied to Vincent, sending the affronted Doctor a wink when the painter went to light the fire.

"Oi, not nice."

"You licked things for over a hundred years." She reminded him.

He shook his head and looked to Vincent who brushed his hands on his knees as he watched the fire catch. "Okay, let's talk about you." The Doctor said out loud. "What are you interested in, Vincent?"

Vincent got to his feet, gesturing around his humble home. "Look around: Art. It seems to me there's so much more to the world than the average eye is allowed to see." He said as Amy slipped quietly out into the garden.

Rose looked to Rory, seeing he had his arms crossed and seemed torn between staying and going. Leaving the Doctor and Vincent to their conversation for a moment, Rose went up to their companion, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What's troubling you?"

"Never thought I'd feel like a fifth wheel to a married couple, a painter, and my fiancee." He snorted.

"Have you talked to Amy? Maybe she doesn't realize …."

"Did he tell you? What she did?" Rory asked in a quiet whisper. Rose nodded. "She realizes, I just … I thought maybe after Venice things would be better, but…."

"Talk to her." Rose encouraged. "Seriously. She doesn't bother me." Rory tilted his head, and she grinned. "Okay, bothers me a bit. But I know my marriage is good. Yours hasn't even started, yeah? So go find out how you can fix it."

"Right, yes, right." Rory nodded, turning and heading out the door of the cottage.

She glanced at the Doctor who had been watching them instead of Vincent as the painter spoke of his passion while hanging the pot of coffee over the fire.

"Time lines?" She asked him.

"Still shaky, but not worse. Not yet." He replied , turning to Vincent just as the painter spun to face him.

Rose quietly took a seat, half listening to the conversation, hoping she hadn't made things worse somehow.

~DWDWDW~

Amy wanted to stay inside with Vincent, but the lure of seeing his paintings were a bit stronger at the moment. And besides, she was mildly hoping the Doctor would notice she left, follow her out to make sure she was alright, and then maybe they might be able to have a quiet talk about his wife.

Rose was, to Amy's great surprise, a bit snobbish. Was the TARDIS strictly hers? Could she not share? And what was with all the judging looks and hints of … something Rose gave the Doctor once in a while? She acted like he was acting weird and different and all together not what she was expecting. How much did she suppress him during their marriage? And now she was being all flirty with Van Gogh right in front of her husband of a hundred years without a care in the world. She was all bottled blonde, lower class London thinking she was better than everyone else, and Amy wasn't going to stand for it. Rose was hardly in charge, and Amy was going to prove it.

So when she heard the door to the cottage open she smiled to herself as she looked at the drying paintings. "Wondering how long it would be until you followed me out."

"Well," Rory said, causing her to stiffen in surprise. "Van Gogh and the Doctor were pretty deep in conversation, and I suspect that Rose was interested in quietly observing."

Amy scoffed, crossed her arms and turned to face Rory who stood a few feet away with his hands in his pockets. "Quietly? More like criticizing."

Rory frowned. "Wouldn't saw that. She seems to just be taking it all in, asking questions where she needs to."

"Not telling the Doctor to keep quiet, has she?" Amy smirked. "Kinda surprised, controlling harpy that she is."

Rory just looked a bit more confused. It was sort of adorable in an odd kind of way. "Why is she a controlling harpy, as you say?" He asked with exasperation.

"Telling us we need to go change?"

"She's been traveling longer than we have, maybe the normal is to change for new places."

"Yeah, well, maybe the norm should change, yeah?"

"Why do you really have a problem with her? She's been nothing but nice." He stepped toward her when she snorted and shook her head. "Amy think about it: she woke up from a coma to two strangers in her home. She's bouncing back pretty quick, all things considered, and you've been giving her the cold shoulder since we properly met her."

"She acts like she runs the place."

"I say, again, it's her home."

"Acts like the Doctor is weird and she doesn't like it."

"I have a feeling she's just getting to know him again." Rory said as if he knew something she didn't, which only made things worse.

"She's in there flirting with Vincent right in front of her husband after he pined for her for days, and by the sounds of things she's been chatting you up. Didn't think you'd be one to get suckered in by too much make up and a bad dye job." She huffed, looking Rory over.

He stared at her, gaped for a brief second before shaking his head and looking to the sky. "You're jealous." He stated.

"Of a chav? Hardly."

"No, you are." He said, whipping around pointing at her accusingly. "I know you, Amy, we grew up together. I know you nearly as well as I know myself. You're jealous. Not of her, but of what she has. You had the Doctor's full attention, you'd have had Van Gogh's full attention, and hell, maybe if it were still worth something you'd have had mine if she wasn't here. You're jealous that you aren't the center of attention anymore. Have you not seen him since she woke up?"

"Yeah, I have. Doesn't seem quite so, I dunno, carefree as he did before." She shouted back.

"You think that's what he was before? Didn't see that maybe he was hurting before at all? The Doctor's barely been able to leave her side for a moment, and you think that's because she's making him stay there? Amy, that's how I am with you." He paused, turning away. "Or was. Until you decided that maybe you didn't want me there."

"Don't be stupid, of course I want you around." She huffed, wondering when this became about them and not the horrible harpy the Doctor married.

Rory laughed with out mirth. "No, pretty sure I could be wiped from existence and you wouldn't even notice."

"I … would," She said, an uncomfortable sensation creeping up her spine.

"No, you wouldn't." He said. "I love you, so much. Have since we were kids and you know it. But I think you settled for me, because I was better than Jeff, or Charles, or anyone else that you could have had. You knew I would follow you anywhere, and I've already proved that I would. But I think if I was to go home you wouldn't come with me."

She felt the tear roll down her cheek before she realized how badly his words stung. Rory didn't say things to hurt, Rory was steadfastly loyal and always in her corner. So why was he not this time?

Something pushed her, and she stumbled forward. Seemingly without thought, Rory dove and grabbed her, holding her to him as they looked around. The paintings ruffled, but not all of them, not like they would have if it were the wind.

She felt the impact as her and Rory were knocked on to their sides, still holding on to each other as they hit the ground. When a nearby bucket launched a distance away like someone kicked it, she let out a scream.


A/N: Thank you to the readers, favoriters, followers, and reviewers who left word. It is a fast update, but it's the weekend and I thought 'meh' reading material if people want it.

DuShuZhi, debygobel, Vallora, Nyx MG, PanoramaGirl, annabethfan15, Sommerlee, greeneyesCutie, Antisocial Me, Guest, AmeliaJane14, LaughingLadyBug, Loca8892, and Insane-Bookworm-4ever, thank you all for leaving word.

Now, before anyone points it out, I know that statues are not huge in this museum, and I doubt that there would be a visiting exhibit just before Van Goph. That said, I did take liberties.

And yes, I know, Amy is being a bit ... bossy? Yeah, let's go with bossy. I'm sorry to the Amy fans out there but I did find she was selfish and childish in series 5. That said, this isn't going to last the whole fic. And I promise Rose isn't a push over, she's patient. She's a hundred years old and has lived with (what can be) an over sized man child who licked things. Don't worry, the Wolf still has bite.