"It's color!" Vincent emphasized. Someone else might say he was raving, but it was clear he was just very, very passionate about what he did… Just another victim of the fallacy 'follow your passion and success will come.' It was never as easy as that.
Still, it didn't mean you should stop trying.
"Color holds the key!" Vincent continued, holding a hand to his ear. "I can hear the colors. Listen to them." He instructed, looking around the room. "Every time I step outside I feel as though nature is shouting to me. 'Come on. Come and get me! Come on!'"
The Doctor blinked, leaning back slightly as Vincent got in his face. "…maybe that's enough coffee for now. Let's get you a cup of chamomile or something? El?" He looked over, searching. "Where's El?"
A high-pitched scream came from outside, and the Doctor instantly scrambled to his feet, sprinting out the door.
"El! El!" The Doctor shouted, running over to the girl sitting on the ground, as Vincent followed. "El, what happened!?"
"Fine, I'm fine…" The girl breathed. "I was looking at some of the paintings and something hit me. I didn't see it."
"It's okay, it's gone now, we're here." The Doctor told her.
"Augh!" Vincent called out, turning to look at something. "No!"
"Vincent, take it easy…" The Doctor tried to calm him. "Take it easy…"
"Dad, what's happening?" El asked, as Vincent scrambled around, going for a wooden pitchfork.
"I think he's having an episode!" The Doctor replied. "Common for people with conditions like his! We just have to help him through it!"
Vincent took aim, eyes narrowing, as he charged forward.
"Oh, dear." The Doctor stepped out of the way, as Vincent shot past. Thing is, the Doctor nor El had apparently been his target, as he motioned for them to flee.
"Run!" Vincent ordered them. "Run!"
"Yeah, not a bad idea…" The Doctor stepped back. "El get away, I'll try to calm him down."
Vincent grunted, kicking over a barrel, as he spun about.
"Easy, Vincent, easy…" The Doctor tried, as Vincent whipped around to face him. "Don't worry, it's just me. The Doctor." He waved his hands back and forth. "There's no one else here, so, could you please-"
The Doctor got the wind knocked out of him as he was suddenly sent flying through the air.
El yelped, as an invisible set of claws ripped through the painting of the canvas near her. "I don't see it! Why can't I see it!?"
The Doctor shot to his feet, looking around. He couldn't see it either, whatever it was… it was good enough to hide from Time Lord senses as well. He grabbed a long staff, running to Vincent's side.
"You can see it too!?" Vincent turned to the Time Lord.
"Yes… ish!" The Doctor replied, running just a few feet away, wildly swinging the staff around haphazardly. "Well, no!" The Time Lord stopped. "Not really. Augh!" He was sent flying back again, landing on a table across the yard.
"You couldn't see him!" Vincent realized.
"No, no!" The Doctor shot back to his feet, vigorously swinging the staff with all his might.
As the Doctor stood off to the side, Vincent ran up, jamming the pitchfork into thin air, the sound of tearing flesh and alien howling coming from the empty air. He pulled back, and galloping echoed, as something ran off into the distance.
"Dad." El called over to the Doctor, the Time Lord still swinging the stick around. "Dad… DAD!"
"What!?" The Doctor whipped about.
"It's gone."
"Right, well, okay then." The Doctor dropped the staff, breathing heavily.
"Right," The Doctor wiped his face as they went back into Vincent's house. "So, he's invisible. What did he look like?"
"I'll show you." Vincent replied, grabbing one of his paintings and covering it over with a thin layer of white paint.
"Oh, no, no, no!" The Doctor shot over, Vincent looking to the Time Lord inquisitively. "Sorry, it was just… that was a good one."
The Doctor held the finished product out in front of him, frowning.
"Do you recognize it?" El inquired, looking to the Time Lord.
"No…" The Doctor replied, frowning. "…but I know of something that just might."
Vincent looked up from where he was seated. "What?"
"Don't worry, we'll be back in a jiffy." The Doctor pointed. "Come along, El."
The Doctor wished he could say he found it immediately. He didn't. It took him searching almost all night through the TARDIS storerooms, coming up with nothing each time, before he found the right trunk tucked right in the lowest corridor of the console room, the one he never used.
The TARDIS was having a laugh at him.
"Come on, come on…" The Doctor bemoaned as he ruffled through the trunk. "Aha!" He grabbed a device that looked to be nothing more than a mirror on an arm attached to a bit of electronics from it. "I can't believe I ever thought you a useful gadget!" He excitedly ran back up to the console.
"What is it?" El inquired, the girl having gotten a good night's rest in the interim, as the Doctor sat the device on the console, plugging a cord from the diagnostics panel into a port on the device.
"Portable lifeform scanner that I got from my godmother!" The Doctor answered. "Dull woman, two heads, really bad breath. Right, calibration, sit there." He pointed the mirror at El, Gallifreyan text flashing across the screen.
The Doctor hit a button, and something began to print out from the typewriter on the communications panel. It was a little length of paper, showing information on the scanner. Included on it was a picture of El, and some text.
'NAME: Jane Ives. SPECIES: Human. PLANET OF ORIGIN: Earth.'
The Doctor nodded and then tested it on himself to make sure it was working correctly. He hit the spacebar on the typewriter and began to print information about him.
'NAME: The Doctor. SPECIES: Gallifreyan. PLANET OF ORIGIN: Gallifrey.' It also began to print pictures of all his faces, going back to the first, but he stopped it before it could get past the second. It'd blast through the entire roll of paper at that rate.
"Good, now you're working…" The Doctor held up the portrait of the creature to the scanner. "See what you can get from this."
The device dinged, an image of a parakeet flashing across the reflective surface. "No, I know those, and you can see those plain as day."
The device beeped in response to the Doctor's badgering, before flashing an image of a polar bear.
"No! Dead wrong." The Doctor shook his head. "This is the problem with impressionists, not accurate enough. This wouldn't happen with one of those 'proper' painters like Gainsborough." His eyes flickered over to El. "Don't tell Vincent I said that."
"What do we do?" The girl asked.
"We'll just have to get him to draw something better." The Doctor answered, throwing the canvas over his head.
The door shut behind the Doctor and El, the Time Lord looking down to fiddle with the dials on the scanner, before it dinged.
"Ah, that's better, old girl." The Doctor adjusted the panel. "Little delay, but you always work it out in the end. Good, let's find out who this is, then." The Doctor looked at the flashing text. "Oh, there you are, you poor thing. You brutal, murderous… abandoned thing."
"What is it?" El asked, as the Doctor fiddled with the scanner.
"It's a-" The Doctor glanced at the panel. "El… when I say run…" He quietly began. "RUN!" He grabbed her hand, pulling her along as he sprinted down the alley for dear life.
Knocking bits of debris and junk into the path, the Doctor and El ran under an arch, a brick being knocked loose, the creature screeching in pain as it hit the top of the arch.
They turned the corner, the creature howling as it ran off into the distance.
The Doctor breathed, flopping back against the wall. That was too close.
"Wakey wakey!" The Doctor announced as loudly as he could, throwing the doors to Vincent's bedroom open. "Rise and shine! Breakfast is served in the courtyard," The Doctor said, opening some windows, the painter covering his eyes in displeasure. "Whoa, what a morning." He remarked as a rooster crowed, before turning around, clapping his hands. "Come on, there's something I need to show you!"
"That's him!" Vincent gasped, looking at a picture printed out from the TARDIS. "And the eyes… without mercy."
"That is a creature called the Krafayis." The Doctor informed Van Gogh, the painter looking up in response. "They travel through space in great packs, descending on world after world in their hunts, before going onto the next. Sometimes, though, one of them gets left behind. The runt, the weakling, and because they are that brutal, they don't ever come back. So, dotted around the universe are individual Krafayis killing and eating until they die of old age… or are killed by the natives, which they usually aren't because they can't be seen by any living thing."
"But I can." Vincent realized, looking back down at the paper.
"Yes, and that means, Vincent, we are in a unique position to end this reign of terror before it can go any further." The Doctor pointed. "So," The Time Lord sat down in a chair, throwing a leg over the other, "Feel like painting that church today?"
"What about the monster?" Vincent stammered.
"If you paint it… he will come." The Doctor answered.
"…Okay." Vincent nodded, shooting to his feet. "I'll grab my things."
"In your own time." The Doctor replied. "And don't worry, I promise you, we'll be out of your hair by this time tomorrow."
Vincent stopped in the door, looking between the Doctor and El, before he swallowed, exiting the room.
The moment Vincent stepped out the Doctor shook his head. "This is risky."
"More risky than normal?" El asked.
The Doctor shot to his feet, moving towards the door as well. "Think about it. This is Van Gogh's finest year of painting. If we're not careful, the net result of our pleasant little trip will be the brutal murder of one of the greatest artists who ever lived and half the paintings inside the Musée d'Orsay vanishing like they were never even there." He moved to sit down next to El, the girl's curls bouncing as he did so. "And it'll be our fault."
"…Won't let that happen." El resolved, leaning into the Doctor.
"I hope not." The Doctor breathed. "My conscience wouldn't be able to take it."
The Doctor walked up to the door of Vincent's bedroom. The man had said he would be getting his things, but that had been almost an hour ago.
"Vincent?" The Time Lord knocked. "Vincent?" He repeated, both sets of knuckles rapping against the door. He quickly checked his watch, before letting himself in.
Vincent was on his bed, face down. And though he was trying his best to muffle the sound, it was plain as day he was sobbing uncontrollably.
"Vincent…?" The Doctor slowly entered. "Can I help?"
Vincent huffed. "It's so clear you cannot help. And when you leave… and everyone always leaves… I will be left once more with an empty heart, and no hope."
The Doctor sat down on the chair nearby. The man was going through it… grieving the departure of the first friends he had in a long while, even though they hadn't gone yet. But they will.
"My experience is that," The Doctor replied, as Vincent turned over to face him, "There is, surprisingly… always hope."
"Then your experience is incomplete!" The artist barked back. "I know how it will end…" A tear fell onto his pillow. "And it will not end well."
The Doctor rubbed his face, for the first time in a long while totally clueless as to what he should do. "Come on." He tapped Vincent's leg. "Come on, let's go outside, come on-"
"Out!" Vincent hollered, hysterically pointing to the door. "You get out!" The Time Lord began inching back towards the door. "What are you doing here? What are you doing here!?"
The Doctor swallowed. "Very well… I'll leave. I'll leave."
Vincent curled into a ball, sobbing hysterically, as the Doctor stepped out, sighing.
"Dad…" El looked to the Doctor once he had emerged. "What's wrong with him?"
"I told you…" The Doctor regretfully replied. "He's a… delicate man."
"Why?" El looked to the room.
The Doctor shrugged sadly and shook his head. "There's no why… some people just have the misfortune of being born that way. Vincent is, unfortunately, one of a million just like him…"
"Is there…" El looked to the door. "Can we help?"
"I'm afraid not." The Doctor frowned. "It's not something we can fix with a sonic screwdriver or a quick pop into the TARDIS… He needs medical help. Help from actual doctors, and unfortunately… even that may not be enough. Why, just next month, he… he'll take his own life."
"Don't… Don't say that." El requested, shaking his head.
The Doctor sighed, tapping Starry Night hanging on the wall. "We're going to have to do this ourselves. Go to that church and hope the Krafayis still turns up."
"But…" El looked to the Time Lord. "How are we going to see it?"
"I'll think of something." The Doctor replied, bending over to look through some art supplies.
A shadow fell on the wall, and El turned to look first, followed by the Doctor.
"I'm ready." Vincent stated. "Let's go." He grabbed some brushes out of one of his pots.
"…I'm sorry you're sad." El sympathized, the three of them walking side-by-side down the dirt path to the church.
"Ah, but I'm not." Vincent replied. "These moods torment me for weeks, months, but I'm fine now." He looked to them. "If the two of you can soldier on, so can I."
El frowned. "Soldier on?"
"Aye." Van Gogh confirmed. "I see it in your eyes. Both of yours… The two of you have experienced things. Horrible things."
"How… do you know?" El asked.
Vincent just smiled sadly. "When one experiences pain… you learn to recognize it in others. Like you, Doctor," He turned to the Time Lord, "You're grieving for something, I think."
"…yeah." The Time Lord confirmed. "Anyway, when the creature comes back, we need to have a plan."
"Then we shall fight it!" Vincent determinedly stated.
"Well, yes, tick." The Doctor held up his hand. "But last night we were lucky. El might've been killed, so, this time, for a start, we need to make sure that I can see him too."
"The box." El pointed to the case the Doctor was carrying.
"Yep. Had an excellent, if smelly, godmother." The Doctor smiled. It dropped, and the three of them stopped in their tracks, as a funeral procession came down the path.
"Oh no…" Vincent murmured. "It's that girl from the village."
The three of them watched as pallbearers and mourners walked past, bowing their heads in respect for the dead.
Once the funeral passed them by, El turned to the Doctor. "Plan?"
"Don't have one." The Doctor admitted. Well, he did sort of have one, but it was more of a general outline.
Either way, the Krafayis wouldn't take any more lives.
