Ode to a flower
He didn't just see colours.
He could touch them, smell them, hear them, taste them.
They spoke to him, told him countless tales and described people as only colours can. He saw colours in people- filling their faces and showing their emotions. Most were only a couple of colours, dark when angry and deep when sad. He only ever saw the dark.
So when the two strangers came he knew immediately that they were different. Their colours were astounding.
The girl (who was cute) was the brightest, clearest colour he had ever seen. She burnt like a sun, shining on everyone around her. Her companion, however, was a huge canvas of many colours, multiple shifting subtle shades, every shade imaginable moving and mixing within him (light patches shadowed with dark, darker colours he had never seen) but the colours within him grew brighter when she was around.
The creature shared some colours with the man (the Doctor). The same pain and anguish at being left alone, all alone, for all eternity. He could see it because he could see its colours and that made it visible.
It was both a gift and a curse.
In Amy he could sense a sadness, a shifting blue-black beneath the bright sunshine she emitted (not only because of her lovely hair), a sadness buried so deep it was like she had forgotten it was there. A dark heart surrounded by light. The golden girl cried ice tears, but he was the only one to see them. He had to look away (how could he experience her pain when not even she could remember it?)
They were different. They were special. They were the only ones he told about his gift, the only ones who didn't throw stones.
And they gave him the greatest gift of all.
And he showed them (the bright sun-girl and the subtle-coloured man), he showed them the stars.
And they saw them.
And then they had to go, and they left him with his own colours a little brighter.
He gave Amy a gift of sunflowers- her flower, he decided. A bright sun shining on everyone, following the great star in the sky because she had never looked anywhere else when she already had such greatness in the sun, destined to follow him wherever he went. She was a sun in her own right, but she had a sad heart. A dark heart.
He never told anyone about the monster.
They would only think him mad, after all.
Almost
When she turns, sometimes she can see a third person walking with her and the Doctor, like he always belonged.
Just a flicker in the corner of her eye.
But he is gone by the time she looks properly.
Extra nice
He's being especially nice, and she can't figure out why.
'I'm always nice,' he says, displaying his excellent skill of answering a question without telling her anything.
The Doctor is always nice, although she thinks nice is a little mundane for a man like him.
Exciting amazing breathtaking fantastic, maybe- but right now it is as though he has lost his spark. It's just… nice.
He seems reluctant to touch her, leaping away as though burned each time their fingers brush or their shoulders touch (she would have thought he'd have gotten over that night after the angels by now) and the first time since… a long time he holds her hand while Vincent Van Gogh shows them the stars through his eyes.
She clasps hold of his hand and never wants to let go again.
Later, when he holds her tight as she cries for the man who was never allowed to witness his greatness except for a few short seconds, she can feel his hearts beat against hers and again she feels as though if she lets him go she will never get him back again.
Which is silly, of course, as she'll stay with him for as long as possible. Plenty more chances for hugs and close moments.
At least he'd started to touch her again.
The Outsider
The Doctor had never been haunted before, and certainly not by a memory.
He didn't believe in ghosts, for one thing- there was always an explanation for supernatural occurrences, be they aliens or technology. Ghosts, the supernatural and the 'after-life' were things dreamt up by those who feared death.
He had no need to fear death. It was life that scared him.
But despite his disbelief he was certain he was being haunted. In the corner of his eye, sometimes, just unreachable; other times he stood beside him, clear as day (or night, if you lived on the planet Salgathia).
He didn't, no couldn't understand it. There was no possible explanation of him being there, as he had never even existed except in his mind and though it was very, very, very good, extremely good and clever and large, even his mind couldn't create such a believable illusion for him.
It made no difference how many times he told himself it was impossible- he was there.
What made it worse was that Rory didn't seem to be angry. He just seemed to want to … join in.
He hung around Amy, mostly, as though he was supposed to be there, and the Doctor was very aware of each time he touched her (Rory did die for him, after all).
And there was that awful time when he accidently called Rory's name, seeing him there and forgetting (momentarily) that he was no longer there. Amy had been confused, but had soon forgotten (again). It hurt, seeing her so normal when her world should be falling apart.
Vincent could see the tears she should have cried (did cry) but he was uncommonly perceptive and the Doctor knew that he could be seeing the sadness Amy had felt when she could still remember.
He'd lost count of how many times he'd tried to convince himself it was impossible (he was erased, he never existed, you're just a crazy old man). It was almost six times before breakfast.
He remembered he used to do six impossible things before breakfast, and wondered where the magic went. He kept travelling, kept picking up humans, kept losing them and falling a little further into madness but the magic had gone somewhere along the line and the sad thing was he couldn't even think when it left, so wrapped up he had been in his sorrows.
Life to him was becoming more and more of a trial.
Where had the old man on his library card gone? Where had the fun-loving, crazy-haired (sometimes), strangely dressed (most of the time- Rassilon, he had loved that scarf… and that ornamental vegetable) old Doctor gone?
It struck him that he seemed to be having his mid-life crisis. He was only 907, after all. Positively young.
Victory
'Where are we going now?' Amy asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
'Weeeelll,' the Doctor drew out the word as he flitted around the TARDIS console, 'I thought you might want to go to party.' He grinned at her. 'Something to lift your spirits a bit.'
'Why do my spirits need lifting?' she asked. The Doctor looked sad for a moment.
'They should do,' he murmured, before turning his one hundred watt smile back on and directing it at her. 'Fancy getting into costume?'
'If I don't know where we're going how can I dress right?' she asked, swinging around the console after him.
'The TARDIS will put some outfits out- see if you can guess from the clothes,' he said. 'A bit of a challenge.'
'Ok,' Amy said, bounding off to the wardrobe. The Doctor dropped his smile slightly, the effort being too much when there was no Amy to cheer up, and he hoped that their destination would help to cheer him up a little bit too.
Amy returned shortly, wearing a jacket with padded shoulders and a short skirt. She plucked at the jacket and pulled a face.
'I'm not sure I like the clothes,' she said. The Doctor smiled, and realised that he was almost disappointed her skirt was a reasonable length. Almost.
'They couldn't be very creative because of the rationing,' he explained, before realising he had given a big clue to their destination. Amy pounced on his slip-up.
'Ah-ha! So, I'm guessing in the past, on Earth- only on Earth could we wear something as unflattering as this- and in the second world war?'
'Close, but no cigar,' the Doctor teased. Amy's forehead wrinkled, but the TARDIS stopped whirring and the Doctor bounded over to the door, opening it for her with a happy grin. She raced up, rushing through the door, feeling the excitement that suffused her every time she stepped through those doors and found herself in a new world. Or, indeed, a very familiar one, just a lot younger.
The alley she found herself in was obviously not modern- she could see the horizon of rooftops and chimneys were free from aerials. It reminded her of the view over London from the Cabinet War Rooms she 'd visited close to the beginning of her adventure with the Doctor.
'So, if we aren't in World War two, which wouldn't be the best place to cheer up someone, even if they don't need to be, when are we?' Amy asked the Doctor, who had just closed the door of the TARDIS behind him.
'Why don't you go down there and have a look?' he said, looking inordinately pleased with himself. She gave him a suspicious look, before setting off down the alley and emerging into the street beyond. The Doctor was close behind her, and heard her gasp of excitement when she saw the street.
All along the road stretched a long table, groaning under the weight of many plates of food. Union Jack bunting hung from lampposts, and a radio played out from a doorway as the large group of people bustled around the table, eating, drinking, laughing and looking as though a huge weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Which, of course, it had.
'Victory day,' said the Doctor. 'End of World War two. And I think they're having a party.'
'Lets go join in,' Amy said, grabbing his sleeve a pulling him into the crowd, the ecstatic atmosphere already doing wonders for his mood. He knew what awaited them- singing, eating, chatting, listening to countless recordings of their old friend Churchill announcing the end of the war on Europe, and maybe fireworks.
One of the happiest days for this little Island on this little planet in all of time.
And for once, the Doctor knew they had done it all by themselves.
A/N: I really liked this episode, and I loved the fact the Doctor showed Vincent his work's future. I cried quite heartily, I have to admit. So, usual drill; please review and tell me if you liked it, and if you have any prompts or ideas from the episodes I'll be happy to write them. Oh, and a question:
What are you most afraid of?
I find that using phobias as monsters in Doctor Who fics can make them more realistic, and I always find it interesting what other people find scary. I, personally, can't even look at a needle on television before I faint. I would be very interested to read your replies!
Meg