Chapter 9 The One with the Painter
Hello hello hello, hope were all keeping safe, sorry about the delay in updating - life drowned me a bit! So without further ado let's have at one of my firm favourites... and second longest chapters so far!
Once again: I own nothing recognisable.
Amelia Pond was not stupid. She may not have gone to university like Florence or be some million year old relic in a blue box, but she wasn't stupid. Something was up with the Doctor and his… whatever Florence was to him at this point in her timeline, they were being extra nice to her. The last time Florence had appeared the Doctor had established her age in relation to their time together before whisking her away and both coming back with soft smiles. And not the cute 'we've just been catching up lovingly and reminiscing about our lives' smiles, but soft smiles directed at her in particular. She didn't particularly care, not when the Doctor took them both to a small planet on one of the outer regions of the galaxy that boasted the most beautiful nature reserve in history (and of all the history she had seen thus far she thought it was a pretty accurate description), but she was curious. Two 'treat' trips in a row was fun, but a third? That was bordering on concerning.
He tried to palm the third trip off as a treat for Florence, who had arrived in the TARDIS eagerly telling them something about werewolves, diamonds, and Queen Victoria, and told Amy that the girl had always wanted to visit the Musée d'Orsay just like she had since she had studied so much of the art at university. Clearly Florence was excited at the prospect, and as was Amy - Van Gogh was her favourite artist. But he wasn't doing this trip for the both of them, this was another 'nicety' for her benefit. Amy knew this because every time the Doctor planned a trip for Florence's benefit he didn't give her preference for it a second thought, one time the two of them had gone to a food market in some galactic commonwealth and by the time they had arrived back in the TARDIS Florence was waiting for them, mentioned how hungry she was, and the Doctor purposefully moved the TARDIS a foot to the left and they repeated almost the same afternoon they had just had but with Florence - because she was peckish. He was nauseatingly sweet on her, it was adorable and sickening at the same time.
So no, this trip was not for the benefit of the both of them, the song and dance would be much greater if that were true. He was just being nice. And quite honestly, Amy was planning on milking it for all it was worth.
Florence Jensson decided that she loved travelling with the Doctor. Not that she had struggled enjoying the alien cities and dodgy time travel she had experienced so far, but she came to the conclusion that travelling to places on Earth that she had never got to see was almost her favourite part of the experience. Getting to see The Musée d'Orsay in Paris? For free? This beat any lecture at the National Portrait Gallery. She had dressed for the occasion too, and wasn't ashamed to be wearing a maroon beret to complete her outfit, tugging it on and fixing her hair with a grin, laughing as the Doctor helped her put on her matching overcoat. "Allons-y!" She called back to him as she bounced out of the TARDIS doors, using the only phrase she knew which she had heard his past self use to usher them along.
It was strange to her, that she almost immediately felt so much more comfortable around this Doctor than the last time she saw him at the Hotel. Maybe it was because, despite his somber attitude when she initially jumped, he was much less self loathing than before - not that she blamed him, she understood now more than ever after battling the werewolf how heavily the deaths of innocents played on his mind. He seemed to be younger, and livelier than before, he definitely looked slightly younger too. Plus he didn't kiss her upon landing this time around, which was probably for the best… maybe. She also felt a bit of relief when she landed in the bright orange glow of his futuristic TARDIS, that she was further along his timeline than previously. It wasn't that she didn't like her tall skinny Doctor, quite the opposite in fact, she was extremely fond of him and his glasses and his pinstripe suit and, well, all of him. And it wasn't that she was still angry at that version of him for his attitude in the library with Rose, she understood him a lot more after their conversation on the staircase. She believed that her comfort came from the fact that she knew that this mad man in his TARDIS was a future version of himself, she felt on even pegging with him, and could talk freely about New Earth, the Krillitane and the wolf - of course he came with his own difficulties of whether she could talk about the Hotel but she assumed by Rory's lack of presence that it had not happened yet, Amy may not have even met her future husband and that was a spoiler she refused to slip up on. It was calming being with this version of the Doctor, despite his utter inability to sit still for two seconds, and his treatment of her was a lot surer and less controlled than his past self, who Florence had noticed seemed a lot more reserved with her - as if he was used to her being so 'young'. She wasn't sure if she even knew what she meant by that, the point of the matter was that this Doctor put her at ease, and he was taking her to Paris so he definitely gained points in that regard. Not that it was a competition, but it didn't hurt to keep note of which one spoiled her…
The Doctor laughed as he and Amy followed after her, heading towards the impressive building up the stairs from them, throwing his arm around her shoulders while the other was thrown out in front of him in emphasis as he cried out, "The Musée d'Orsay! Established in 1986 as the epicentre of Impressionist and post-Impressionist masterpieces! It used to be a train station, Amy, and inside there's a lovely little picture of little old me in the station back in 1962, when it had been used as a film set of The Trial! Oh I'll tell you now, Orson was not happy with me that day - I told him faking a real alien invasion was not the way to get my attention, but he never listens. But that is not why we are here!" He halted his own rambling and reached the arm that had been outstretched up as if to answer a teacher's question. "Let's go see some squiggly starry night skies shall we!"
He led the young women to the ticket office and flashed his leather wallet at the ticket lady, walking straight through the museum's main hall (barely letting Florence loose long enough to have a good look at any of the artwork much to her chagrin) and to the special exhibition room, where Florence couldn't help but squeal at the sight of so many of Van Gogh's art being on display in one room, she tugged at the Doctor's hand that dangled over her right shoulder with a smile,
"Oh now this is a treat!" He smiled brightly back at her and the two of them turned to look at Amy, who was observing the painting closest to them, Cypresses Florence noticed giddily, with a content smile. Florence directed her attention to the older tour guide, explaining to his group what the painting was in behind him,
"So this is one of the last paintings Van Gogh ever painted. Those final months of his life were probably the most astonishing artistic outpouring in history. It was like Shakespeare knocking off Othello, Macbeth and King Lear over the summer hols. And especially astonishing because Van Gogh did it with no hope of praise or reward." Amy sidled back up to the two and nudged the Doctor's shoulder lightly with her own. "He is now…"
"Thanks for bringing me." The ginger told him with a small smile, which he returned.
"You're welcome."
Amy gave him a funny look and hesitated only slightly before commenting, "You're being so nice to me, you're usually only this nice to Florence, what's the niceness?" The Doctor huffed slightly,
"I resent that, I'm always nice, to both of you. Equally." Even Florence, having only met this Doctor once before, struggled to believe that last bit.
"Not like this." Amy countered. "These places you're taking me. Arcadia, the Trojan Gardens, now this. Don't get me wrong, they've been lovely, but very nice and tame and all things you think I'll enjoy. I think it's suspicious."
"What?" The Doctor argued, looking slightly caught out in Florence's eyes. "It's not. There's nothing to be suspicious about." Amy frowned at his reaction, holding a hand up to him.
"Okay, I was mostly joking. Why are you?" Florence rolled her eyes at the Doctor's obviousness and tried to listen back in on the tour guide's explanation, speaking quietly one last time to the pair of them.
"What the Doctor means, Amy, is that he's simply enjoying spoiling his companions, and while you may find it odd that he's being overly generous with safe trips, I can imagine that adventure, danger, and the potential fear inducing worry of imminent death will be infecting our lives once more shortly. I for one wish to enjoy the art before, I don't know, Mona Lisa herself appears from within the Louvre to try and destroy Paris." The Doctor laughed and opened his mouth to reply but Florence made a shushing motion and gestured to the talking tour guide.
"Each of these pictures now is worth tens of millions of pounds, yet in his lifetime he was a commercial disaster." He was saying. "Sold only one painting, and that to the sister of a friend. We have here possibly the greatest artist of all time, but when he died you could sell his entire body of work and got about enough money to buy a sofa and a couple of chairs. If you follow me now…" Florence wanted to follow, the guide was clearly passionate and she wouldn't have minded picking his brain over a cup of tea about the complexity of Van Gogh's character more, but Amy led them to a painting she had found in the guide book she had picked up at the entrance.
"Look! There it is." They stopped in front of the painting of The Church at Auvers, and stared at it. "The actual one." Florence smiled as she looked at the dark hues and scattered brushstrokes of the work
"You know Van Gogh was upset at the time about the inaccessibility of the evangelical church to him during this darker period of his life." She began, unable to contain the art history buff within her. "That's why it's so dark, it's said to represent the 'empty and unlightened preaching'. Every choice in art has meaning…" The Doctor smiled fondly at her and marvelled at the painting in front of him.
"Yes. You can almost feel his hand painting it right in front of you, carving the colours into shapes." He leaned in closely to exaggerate the faux movements of the painter, but paused an inch from the canvas, looking intently at something. "Wait a minute."
"What?" Amy asked, leaning in.
"Well, just look at that." The Doctor commented, and Florence too leaned in for a look.
"Oh." She breathed, when she saw a figure in the window of the church that had definitely not been there when she had seen the image in a history book.
"What? What is it?" Amy asked again.
"Something very not good." The Doctor answered vaguely, and Amy huffed slightly.
"What thing very not good?" Florence reaches out her index finger, hovering it over the windows on the right, careful not to touch it or set off any alarms,
"There Amy, in the window of the church." Amy finally saw what had concerned the other two, a face of a strange mythical looking creature visible from the window.
"Is that a face?" Florence nodded, and looked at the Doctor,
"But I don't understand, I've looked at this painting online quite a bit, how come I never noticed it before?" The Doctor waved his hand slightly at the question,
"Time is funny like that, some things aren't fixed, and I'm hoping that means we sort it all out… but whatever it is, it's not a nice face at all. I know evil when I see it and I see it in that window." He turned to Florence, face millimetres from her own. "When was it painted?" She frowned, trying to scour her brain for information on the painting, but couldn't think clearly with his face so close, his green eyes staring so intently at her for answers.
"Um, he was in the north at the time so, like, 1890s maybe? Sorry." He frowned slightly before he straightened his back and moved away from the painting, heading towards the tour guide and tapping him on the shoulder midway through his remark about Still Life with Twelve Sunflowers.
"Excuse me. If I can just interrupt for one second. Sorry everyone." He flashed his wallet again quickly, Florence had to remember to ask him what it was exactly. "Routine inspection, Ministry of Art and Artiness. So, erm…" he paused.
"Doctor Black." The guide filled in and the Doctor smiled politely.
"Yes, that's right. Do you know when that picture of the church was painted?" Dr Black hummed slightly.
"Ah, well, ah, well, what an interesting question. Most people imagine-"
The Doctor cut him off, and Florence would have tutted him if it wasn't for the fact that something was seriously wrong with that painting. "I'm going to have to hurry you. When was it?"
"Exactly?" Dr Black asked, and the Doctor nodded.
"As exactly as you can. Without the long speech, if poss. I'm in a hurry and my resident art fiend wasn't helpful." She did tut him at this, hitting him lightly on the arm with the back of her hand.
"Well in that case," Dr Black answered, "probably somewhere between the first and third of June."
"What year?" The Doctor pressed.
"1890. Less than a year before he killed himself."
"Ha." Florence muttered, sourly. "Was right."
The Doctor planted a surprising and swift kiss to her head. "Sorry, dear." He turned to the helpful Dr Black. "Thank you, sir. Very helpful indeed." He pointed at the other man's bow tie cheerily. "Nice bow-tie. Bow-ties are cool." Dr Black smiled and did the same,
"Yours is very…" The Doctor straightened his own, proudly.
"Oh, thank you. Keep telling them stuff." He turned away from the tour group and grabbed both girls' hands. "We need to go."
"What about the other pictures?" Amy asked confused by his quick change of mood.
"Art can wait. This is life and death." He told her seriously, pushing her in front of him. "We need to talk to Vincent Van Gogh."
The Doctor was running around the TARDIS console, flipping switches and swing around by the monitor that hung above him, spouting nonsense about Van Gogh and nasty beasts getting in the way of good art, tugging gently on Florence's hair when he heard her mutter to Amy something along the lines of getting the right year this time. The trio landed with a grunt as they fell, before the Doctor sprinted over to the doors, poking his head out and motioning the girls to follow. They did as they were asked, Florence rubbing her bum from where she had landed on it for the fourth time in two days. She faltered slightly at that thought, it had only been two days since she was last in the comfort of her own bed, three days since she saw Sally or Sarah, and - the image of the World War Two overcoat passed through her head before she had a chance to stop it - eight weeks since the smarmy flirt had first walked into her cafe. She hadn't paused to think about Captain Jack Harkness much, her adventures occupying most of her mind, and the painful darkness occupying the other part. But now she had a moment to dwell, she frowned at the thought of the secretive smile on his face and that look in his eye when she introduced herself all those weeks ago. She shook her head, it did no good dwelling on it, he wasn't her with her and - as far as she knew - the Doctor and Captain Jack were not one in the same, so there was no correlation between the two. Although, she supposed, until she found out otherwise was there much harm in directing her confusion and annoyance onto a man she would likely never see again? Nope, that would be the end of it. It was all his fault.
"Right!" The Doctor clapped his hands together, unknowingly grabbing Florence's attention. "So, here's the plan. We find Vincent and he leads us straight to the church and our nasty friend." Florence crossed her arms and leaned against the TARDIS doors she had just closed behind her,
"And you think it will be that easy?" The Doctor wagged his finger at her, uncrossing her arms and pushing her to walk in front of him with his hands on her shoulders, Amy skipping to walk next to him.
"Well, no." He admitted. "I suspect nothing will be easy with Mister Van Gogh." They turned the corner of the alleyway the TARDIS had landed in, into a slightly wider street. "Now, he'll probably be in the local cafe. Sort of orangey light, chairs and tables outside." Florence shrugged his hands off her, moving to walk beside him with a dirty look, which only made him smile in response. Amy pulled out her trusty guide book from the d'Orsay and held it up in front of her, displaying the famous Cafe Terrace at Night.
"Like this?" She asked, and the Doctor nodded,
"That's the one." Amy continued to hold the book in front of her, before turning to the right and stopping with a satisfied smirk on her face,
"Or indeed like that." The Doctor and Florence turned and nodded at one another when they saw in front of them was in fact, The Cafe itself.
"Yeah... I'll place my bets that that's the one." Florence commented, patting the Doctor on his tweed clad shoulder and moving passed him towards the lovely little cafe. "Come along, I need a drink."
The Doctor ran up to the owner of the cafe with a bright smile on his face. "Good evening!" He called, and the owner already looked put out by his eagerness, which Florence couldn't blame, this Doctor felt as though he was constantly on something. "Does the name Vincent Van Gogh ring a bell?" If anything the owner's face soured even more.
"Don't mention that name to me." He told them before skulking back inside, Florence frowned at the reaction, instead chancing her luck with one of the younger waitresses clearing a table nearby.
"Excuse me, do you know Vincent Van Gogh?" The waitress scoffed in response,
"Unfortunately."
"Unfortunately?" Amy called from behind them, waving her guide book around in question.
"He's a drunk, He's mad, and never pays his bills." She clarified and Florence pulled a face at the opinion of one of the greatest artist she ever admired,
"Well, that'll do it."
"Good painter, though? Eh?" The Doctor tried, which only caused laughter to erupt around them all, and he sighed in resignation, pulling a chair out for Florence to take a seat (which made her smile softly at his consideration) before sitting down himself.
"Someone wasn't listening to Dr Black, unpopular in his time remember?" She breathed into his ear gently, and noticed his slight shiver as he crossed his arms in a huff.
"What can I say, I'm frequently distracted in your company, Flossy." She rolled her eyes at the nickname and was about to scold him for it but was cut off by the sounds of arguing coming from inside, and gave Amy a slightly worried look from across the cafe.
"Come on! Come on! One painting for one drink." The voice was revealed to come from a ginger man wearing a thin brown jacket with a couple layered shirts underneath, Florence's jaw dropped as the face of the man was recognisable to her from his self portraits she had studied the strokes of so often. It was Vincent Van Gogh himself, bartering for a drink. "That's not a bad deal." Florence started smacking the Doctor's arm in excitement while watching the painter argue his case.
Unfortunately, the owner was having none of it. "It wouldn't be a bad deal if the painting were any good. I can't hang that up on my walls. It'd scare the customers half to death." While he scolded his least favourite customer, Florence was staring wide eyed while her friends were flipping out silently on either side of the feud. "It's bad enough having you in here in person, let alone looming over the customers day and night in a stupid hat. You pay money or you get out." At that the Doctor finally spoke up,
"I'll pay, if you like."
"What?" The owner asked incredulously, and Vincent turned to look at the two of them sitting behind him.
"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."
"Exactly who are you?" Was all Vincent asked in response, and Florence smiled brightly at him.
"Just passers by. Stopping for a drink, aren't we?" The Doctor nodded in agreement but Vincent merely laughed at the two newcomers.
"Well, in that case, you don't know three things. One, I pay for my own drinks, thank you." That led to laughter from the other punters. "Two," he continued over the noise, "no one ever buys any of my paintings or they would be laughed out of town. So if you want to stay in town, I suggest you keep your cash to yourself. And three, your friends are cute, but you should keep your big nose out of other people's business." Florence and Amy smiled quite pleased with themselves while the Doctor crossed his eyes looking down at his nose, Florence patted his arm soothingly. Vincent turned back to the owner. "Come on, just one more drink. I'll pay tomorrow."
"No." The owner denied once more.
"Or, on the other hand, slightly more compassionately, yes?" Vincent tried.
"Or, on the other hand, to protect my business from madmen, no." The owner turned to go back into the cafe but Vincent stopped him again
"Or…" Florence wondered how long the two of them usually did this for, but luckily Amy had had enough of the back and forth, and interrupted them loudly.
"Ooh look, just shut up! The pair of you!" Florence turned to the Doctor laughing at the red head only to notice a small sad smile on his face, that he attempted to wipe away swiftly when he caught her stare - she made a mental note to ask him more about that later. "I would like a bottle of wine please." She told the owner. "Florence! Wine?" Florence stuck her thumbs up at the choice and Amy smiled smugly at the two men. "I will then share my bottle of wine with whomever I choose."
"That could be good." Vincent agreed, and the owner nodded.
"That's good by me." Amy smiled and led the way into the cafe to grab the bottle and some glasses, while Vincent had his own portrait thrusted back into his chest. The Doctor and Florence shared a look at their friend's ability to control the room before turning to their new drinking buddy and Florence kicked the chair in front of her out and patted the table in invitation.
"Monsieur Van Gogh, pull up a pew." He looked curiously at the odd pair in front of him before taking the seat opposite.
Amy arrived back at the table carrying a bottle of wine and four glasses, giving it a celebratory wiggle as she sat down, "Here we go my boys and girl!" Florence picked the bottle up and poured a generous glut into each of the glasses, the four of them all picked a glass each and gave a little cheers, Florence savouring the first drop of alcohol she had had in what seemed like an age, laughing when the Doctor took a sip and spat the mouthful back into the glass with a disgusted expression.
"Well that's just fermented rubbish." Florence rolled her eyes at him and Amy scoffed,
"Nah that's just a waste of wine." Vincent gave her a funny look. "What?"
"That accent of yours." He commented. "You from Holland like me?" Amy and Florence frowned at his incorrect observation.
"No." The Scotswoman replied at the same time the Doctor had said.
"Yes." He gave her a look. "She means yes. So, start again." He held his hand out to the artist. "Hello, I'm the Doctor."
"I knew it!" Vincent exclaimed furious, readying himself to stand.
"Sorry, he didn't mean anything…" Florence tried but the man seemed distrustful of them all of a sudden.
"My brother is always sending doctors." He told them. "But you won't be able to help."
The Doctor shook his head quickly, "Oh no! Not that kind of doctor!" Vincent still seemed ready to leave at a moment's notice, adjusting the painting at his side, which the Doctor used to try and get back on his good side. "That's incredible, don't you think, Florence? Amy?" Florence nodded emphatically, she still couldn't quite believe that directly across from her was not only Vincent Van Gogh but also a real life painting of his.
"Absolutely." Amy told him, and added for well meaning, but terribly done, effect. "One of my favourites." Florence turned her head and gave her a wide eyed look, remembering their cover story, seemingly Vincent also remembered that they were 'passer bys'.
"One of my favourite whats? You've never seen my work before." Florence had to fight the urge to bury her head in her hands, between the two of them they were making a cock up of an introduction.
"Yes." Amy said, thinking on her feet. "One of my favourite paintings that I've ever seen, generally." Vincent seemed to believe her, holding the panting up again for appraisal,
"Then you can't have seen many paintings, then. I know it's terrible. It's the best I can do." He placed it back down and turned to Amy, looking her directly in the eyes, ignoring the other two with them. "Your hair's orange." Amy leaned into him closely,
"Yes, so is your's." The Doctor and Florence shared a look at their moment, and Vincent's enjoyment of her proximity.
"Yes. It was more orange," he told her obviously, and the Doctor rolled his eyes slightly at the flirtation, causing Florence to hide a smile behind her glass of wine, "but now is, of course, less." The Doctor exhaled, as if to interrupt them with something (probably rudely) but Florence beat him to it.
"So, Vincent." The sound of his name caught the pair of gingers' attention and Amy shifted back into her seat looking quite put out at the interruption. "Any places you suggest we see while we're in town. Ooh!" She paused before turning to the Doctor in a faux lightbulb moment, grabbing his arm and giving him a squeeze. "I love a church! There is something so… enlightening about them." The Doctor nodded, catching on.
"Yes. Yes! Any churches round here, Vincent?" He asked, innocently. "You haven't painted any, have you?" He gave a rushed, forced laugh. "Any chapels, religiousy stuff, any time soon?"
"Well," Vincent began, looking slightly perplexed at their eagerness, "there is one church I'm thinking of painting, when the weather is right…"
"That is very good news." The Doctor smiled, but before he could ask him any more, a feminine wail erupted from outside the cafe as a woman ran from across the street.
"Help me! She's been murdered!" The Doctor stood up from his seat, and Florence sighed, downing her glass of wine ready to follow wherever the Time lord headed, most likely towards the murder.
"That, on the other hand, isn't quite such good news." He held out his hand to Florence, who gave it a look before her own was involuntarily snatched up by the Doctor as he ran off. "Come on, Amy, Vincent!"
They took off out of the cafe and along the cobblestones, a multitude of footsteps behind them, Florence presumed Amy would have known to just follow and dragged Vincent along with her. The Doctor followed the crowd and broke through to get to the figure of a girl lying on the pavement, a pool of crimson blood surrounding her prone body. Florence gasped as she saw the cause of death, ribbons of flesh had been torn from face to chest from her body, her eyes glassy and still opened wide. Florence backed away behind the Doctor, who gave her hand a squeeze before she slid it from his hold, uncomfortable with the intimate touch. He bent over the body softly and Florence felt Amy approach behind her, and heard her similar gasp to her own. Florence didn't think it would ever get easier to see a dead body in front of her, she hoped it didn't, she wanted it to hurt every time to remind her that she could try and help the Doctor to stop the next one.
"Away, all you vultures!" A woman's anguished voice called, pushing past Amy and Florence, who looked up and saw the distress on the ginger's face. Attempting to forgo her usual hesitance, Florence gripped the younger girl's hand tightly in her own. Realisation came over her as she watched the poor mother of the deceased clutch her daughter's corpse in grief; the people that she had come to know as friends in the brief adventures they had shared needed comfort too. Every simple touch she had initiated between herself, Martha, or Rose had been well received, but still she pulled away every time the Doctor tried to hold her hand. She had forgotten so easily that it wasn't always about her discomfort, but about the challenges they had faced and the bonds forged in experiencing life or death situations. She needed to remember that these people knew her intimately, and as much as that disconcerted her at times, she clearly loved them all deeply. And why wouldn't she? In the brief times she had met Amy, Martha, Rory, Rose, even Mickey and Sarah-Jane, she was already fond of them and should make an effort to make sure that they knew that sometimes.
"Get away from her!" The grieving woman suddenly yelled, pushing the Doctor away and glaring darkly at a figure behind Florence and Amy, they turned to see Vincent standing shyly on the outskirts. "Get that madman out of here!" She hissed and picked up a stray pebble next to her, throwing it with all her might in the artist's direction, who flinched away as it hit him. "You bring this on us. Your madness!" The rest of the villagers joined her and began throwing various pebbles and rocks at the four of them as they fled the scene, Florence helped as a particularly sharp stone hit her, stinging as it hit the exposed skin just under the rim of her hat. The four ran down an alley and turned a few corners to escape, pausing when they could no longer hear the angry voices following, catching their breaths.
"Are you alright?" Florence asked Vincent, being the main target of the attack, who shrugged as though it were nothing.
"Yes, I'm used to it."
"Has anything like that murder happened here before?" The Doctor asked.
"Only a week ago, it's a terrible time." The Doctor sighed, pacing slightly in the tight alley.
"As I thought, as I thought." He stopped pacing, instead moving in one direction down the path. "Come on, we'd better get you home."
Vincent stopped him, "Where are you staying tonight?"
"Oh you're very kind." The Doctor patted him on the shoulder, accepting the unintended invitation and continuing down the alley, followed by a chuckling Amy, an exasperated Florence and a confused Vincent.
The painter soon overtook the Doctor and led the way to his home, chatting to Amy about the benefits of living further from the centre of the town. The Doctor slowed his pace to walk beside Florence, "You okay?" He asked softly, she nodded and went to push a loose strand of hair under her beret but winced and pulled her hand back with a hiss, a thin layer of blood coating her fingers. The Doctor stopped her and turned her to face him, keeping an eye out for Vincent and Amy who weren't far ahead. "Come'ere." He turned her head from left to right, up and down, giving her a good inspection, which made her roll her eyes.
"It's fine, it's a scratch." He ignored her and told her to stick her tongue out and say 'ahh', before reaching into his seemingly bottomless pockets of his tweed jacket and pulling out a TARDIS blue plaster. He opened it and gently brushed her hair out of the way of the minor wound, placing it on her head and pressing the lightest feather like touch of a kiss to the spot.
"There. Try and stay out of the way of flying rocks." She laughed lightly and shook her head, walking past him to catch up with Vincent and Amy, turning back to give him a soft smile when he called after her. "You're welcome!"
It wasn't too long until the foursome reached Vincent's cosy cottage just on the outskirts of the village centre, it was a small two storey brick house with a spacious courtyard. Being out of the tight alleyways of the centre gave way to a view of the dark blue night sky above them, the Doctor looked up, and couldn't resist the comment of: "Dark night. Very starry." Vincent led them through the courtyard and up to his front door, pausing to light the lantern above it.
"It's not much, I live on my own. But you should be okay for one night. One night." He told the Doctor sternly, who merely smiled. Amy grabbed his arm in excitement,
"We're going to stay with him?"
"Until he paints that church." The Doctor told her, watching Vincent unlock the door and following him in, the painter quickly pointed out the painting hanging from a washing line before moving out of the girls' sights,
"Watch out. That one's wet." Florence stopped when she saw the painting up close, the bright colours and distorted perspective unmistakeable.
"Oh." She breathed, her and Amy taking a moment to just admire the work of art that was but a few inches in front of them, before following the men into the house with barely concealed grins on their faces.
Once inside, lanterns lit, Florence's smile only grew as she saw the various paintings of Vincent Van Gogh's littered around his home. She was literally standing in the midst of his legacy. He apologised for the mess as he shuffled things around, but she only shook his head.
"No, no. Don't apologise." He shuffled off into another room.
"I've come to accept the only person who's going to love my paintings is me." The three time travellers kept gawping at the paintings around them, and Florence couldn't resist running her fingers ever so slightly over the soft blue canvas of the Almond Blossoms.
"I have a copy of this at home." She murmured to the Doctor beside her, she bit her lip slightly, looking at him with a glint in her eye. "Wouldn't mind the real one, though." She joked, causing him to tut her quietly.
"Wow. I mean really, wow." Amy said, turning in a circle in the middle of the room.
"Yea, I know it's a mess. I'll have a proper clear out." Vincent called from, Florence assumed by the sounds of clinking, the kitchen. "I must, I really must. Coffee anyone?" Florence and the Doctor followed his voice into the kitchen, seeing him handling a pot of coffee and some mismatched cups. He placed the coffee pot down on one of the canvases before shuffling things around, leaving a dark ring on the paint. Florence almost cried.
"Not for me, actually. You know," the Doctor told him, looking at the coffee stain, "you should be careful with these. They're precious."
"Precious to me." Vincent told him. "Not precious to anyone else."
Amy poked her head around the kitchen doorway, "They're precious to me." She told him under no uncertain terms, and Florence pointed her way in agreement.
"Well, you're very kind." Vincent told them both, gratefully. "And kindness is most welcome."
"Right, so this church, then," The Doctor drew them back to the matter they were discussing before they left the cafe. "Near here, is it?"
Florence gave him a look at his persistence, she guest 'subtlety' wasn't one of his alien talents. "What is it with you and this church?" Vincent asked, and Florence gave the Doctor's tweed suit a sharp tug, pretending to straighten it for him.
"Oh he just… loves a church." The Doctor nodded,
"A casual interest in it." Vincent looked disbelieving as he continued to fuss around his kitchen, pulling firewood out to warm up the cottage.
"Far from casual. It seems to me you never talk about anything else. He's a strange one." He directed the last comment at Amy and Florence, who gave each other a look as if to say 'you don't know the half of it'.
"Okay so, let's talk about you then… what are you interested in?" The Doctor asked, Vincent stopped in his task and waved his arms around as he spoke,
"Well, look around. Art." He told them, simply. "It seems to me there's so much more to the world than the average eye is allowed to see. I believe, if you look hard, there are more wonders in this universe than you could ever have dreamed of." Florence sighed softly, and the Doctor gave him a nod.
"You don't have to tell me." He shared a secret look with his companions before Vincent turned back to the fireplace. Florence and the Doctor took a seat on the small chairs near the table and watched him.
"It's a beautiful way to look at the world, Vincent." Florence told him softly, resting her chin on the heel of her hand as he continued to talk passionately about art.
"Well, it's just all in the colour" He told them. "Colour holds the key. I can hear the colours. Listen to them. Every time I step outside, I feel nature is shouting at me. Come on. Come and get me. Come on. Come on! Capture my mystery!" He grabbed onto the Doctor's shoulders as he shouted, smartly the two of them slightly.
"Maybe you've had enough coffee now. How about some nice calming tea?" The Doctor suggested, removing his hands. "Let's get you a cup of chamomile or something, shall we? Amy." He looked at the doorway the girl must have exited from moments before. "Where's Amy?" His answer came in the form of a high pitched screaming coming from outside the house, whose occupants immediately stood and ran for the door. "No, no, no!" They ran out into the courtyard to find Amy crouched on the grass, looking around in panic. Florence quickly approached her and grasped her shoulders in comfort.
"Amy! Are you okay? What was it?" She asked, but the girl shook her head, still looking around her.
"I don't know. I didn't see it. I was having a look at the paintings out here when something hit me from behind." The Doctor patted her head gently,
"It's okay. He's gone now and we're here."
Vincent suddenly looked behind them and cried out, holding his head in fear. "No! No!" The Doctor tried to calm him but the man backed away in panic, still looking at whatever was behind them. Florence looked around at any sign of a creature, but couldn't see anything.
"What is it? Vincent, what are you doing?" He grabbed a pitchfork and started brandishing it in her direction, but still looking up and behind her, she grabbed the crouching Amy and pulled her out of the way.
"Oh dear." The Doctor said as the crazed man ran towards him with the pitchfork, throwing himself out of range just as Vincent began to swing it around.
"Run! Run!" He told them, trying to fight off whatever it was he could see.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's not a bad idea. Florence, Amy, get back." The Doctor told him. "He's having some kind of fit. I'll try to calm him down."
Florence shook her head slightly. "No Doctor, look! He's aiming for something!" The Doctor already had his back to the girls, trying to soothe Vincent, who was stabbing at the air viciously.
"Easy, Vincent, easy. Look. Look, look, look. It's me, it's me, it's me. It's the Doctor, look. No-one else is here. So, Vincent…"
"Look out!" Vincent called, too late. Invisible to everyone but himself, the Doctor was suddenly thrown out of the way by a strong force. Amy screamed but pulled Florence back from running over,
"We can't see anything! What is it?" The Doctor jumped to his feet and grabbed a wooden pole from nearby.
"That is a good question." He told her, turning to the only one who could see what they were fighting. "Let me help you."
"You can see him, too?" Vincent asked, and the Doctor thrusted his pole in random directions, facing a different way completely to the painter.
"Yes. Ish. Well, no. Not really." Before Vincent could warn him, he was thrown off his feet and across the courtyard once more.
"Doctor! For gods sake!" Florence called. "Stop playing hero if you can't even see the fucking thing!"
"Oi! Language!" The Doctor called, ignoring her instructions and getting back to his feet, thrashing around with the pole once more, while Vincent continued to attack the creature in the correct direction. Eventually, he got enough leverage to stab whatever he was fighting with the pitch fork, there was an inhuman screech and the washing line collapsed as the creature fled.
"He's gone." Vincent told them, looking over at the Doctor, still fighting the air. At his statement the boyish man child stopped his sword fight and leaned heavily on the pol, catching his breath.
"Oh, right. Yes. Of course." Useless, show off, Florence thought, with a small smile on her face
They all crowded back in Vincent's kitchen, with the Doctor smoothing his bouffant hair back in place having been thrown around in his fighting. "Right. So he's invisible." He said simply, turning to Vincent and asking, "What did he look like?" But the painter was a step ahead, having grabbed a brush and some white canvas paint from a shelf.
"I'll show you." He told them, painting over the little painting of a bunch of flowers in rushed thick strokes, Florence let out a strangled cry watching him destroy some of his work. "What?" He asked her.
The Doctor answered for her, patting her on the back in sympathy. "It's just er, that was quite a good... Oh, no." Vincent turned back and continued whiting out the canvas. "On you go." He grabbed some charcoal from near him and started to sketch the creature he saw, starting with a bird-like facial structure with lizard skin and razor sharp claws.
"Okay. Okay." The Doctor said, thinking on his feet, taking the canvas from Vincent. "Right. Florence, Amy, make Mister Van Gogh comfortable." Florence gave him a look, no way was she going to hang around and be the third wheel. "Don't let any invisible monsters in through the front door."
"But it could be outside, waiting." Amy reasoned, but the Doctor looked nonplussed.
"Well, don't worry. I'll risk it. What's the worst that can happen?"
Amy gave him a look. "You could get torn into pieces by a monster you can't see."
"Oh But Amy…" Florence commented. "Did you not see his impressive performance outside?" The Doctor pointed a warning finger at her.
"Enough of that you." He turned to Amy. "Don't worry. I'll be back before you can say where's he got to now?" He bounded out the door before popping back in a moment later, scaring the three occupants of the room. "Not that fast! But pretty fast. See you around." Florence huffed and gave him three seconds before turning to Amy,
"Right-"
"'You're going after him'." Amy interrupted already knowing what she was going to say. "'Stay safe, you'll make sure he makes it back alive'. That about right?"
Florence gave her an awkward finger gun motion. "Got it in one." And hurried out of the kitchen after him. He had only reached the end of the courtyard by the time she had caught up with him, and didn't even turn when she approached him from the left.
"Florence…" he warned but she grabbed the canvas from him and walked ahead, peering down the empty streets before continuing to walk.
"Coming with you, like it or lump it." She told him, giving him little choice but to follow.
The two of them made it back to the TARDIS in no time, only stopping occasionally when one of them heard footsteps of thought they saw something shift out of the corner of their eye. The Doctor opened the doors and allowed Florence to step in first, before rushing off to one of the archways off the console that seemed to be acting as a closet. "So, what kind of exciting tech are you exactly looking for?" She heard various grunting and shuffling about, finally spotting the figure of the Doctor backing out, dragging a large chest with him.
"I am looking…" He told her, struggling with the contents of the chest, throwing things out petulantly. "For a thing, Flossy! A thingy thing."
"Right, enough with the Flossy, please." She told him, making him look up at her with wide doe-like eyes, almost making her regret saying anything. "I'm twenty five. Not five."
The Doctor looked back at the open chest, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Right, sorry, yeah." There was a stiff silence in the ship.
"So what's the thingy thing, then?" Florence asked softly, hoping to dispel the discomfort.
"Well! It's this… gadget!" The Doctor told her, seemingly perked back up, waving his hands about as he spoke. "I thought it was just an embarrassing present from a dull godmother with two heads and bad breath. Twice." Florence raised her eyebrows at his rambling. "How wrong can a man be?" He pulled out a strange looking device with a rear view mirror on the top and various thick wires and switches attached to it. He ran past Florence, who had been sitting on the steps facing him, and plugged the device into the console. Florence appeared at his shoulder and watched him look into the mirror once it had powered up and stuck his tongue out at it, he turned and smiled at her which she returned laughing at his silliness - glad that the tension had receded. Match Found: Print Ready lit up on the screen, the Doctor pressed the spacebar of the typewriter and a paper printed out, showing a black and white picture of an old man with 'Name: Doctor / Planet: Gallifrey' printed on top, Florence grabbed the paper, but it wasn't finished, more images were printed off after the first, a black haired man with a bow tie; a curly grey haired one with a velvet suit; a curly brunette with a long multicoloured scarf; they kept coming.
"Hang on!" Florence called out, distracting the Time Lord from his propping up of the portrait Vincent had created. "Shut up if these are all you? Seriously?" After several or so faces, her familiar pinstripe suited and booted Doctor appeared. "Oh my god!" The Doctor gave her a look and nodded to the drawing in his hands,
"Yes they're me, yes I have always had a marvellous sense of style… now, please." The machine dinged and the two turned to look at the verdict. Florence tilted her head at the photo of a multicoloured macaw on the screen.
"Ummm, not quite." The Doctor shook his head at the gadget,
"No, I know it's not that. There are thousands of them and you can see them plain as day." The photo blurred and there was another ding, this time displaying a photo of a polar bear with its tongue out, Florence laughed a bit. "No. Definitely not. Please don't embarrass me in front of Florence." He turned to the woman to reason with the device's issues. "This is the problem with the impressionists. Not accurate enough. This would never happen with Gainsborough or one of those proper painters." Florence scoffed at that.
"Hey! Rude." The Doctor shrugged at her before holding up the canvas in front of him.
"Sorry, Vincent." He threw the canvas behind him, ignored Florence's gasp and began to strap the device to his body. "You will just have to draw something better. Give us a hand, Florence."
By the time they had left the TARDIS dawn had broken over the village and there was a 'calm before the storm' type of atmosphere that could only be achieved before one knew the hustle and bustle of daily activity would commence. Florence had barely shut the door behind her, the Doctor adjusting the mirror of the device before it started beeping, displaying a white stencil of the creature and a bunch of information of its species. "That's better, old girl." The Doctor told it, giving the device a final tweak and pat for good measure. "Time delay, but you always get it right in the end. Good. Let's find out who this is, then." He read through the information, Florence sneaking a look from over his shoulder. It called the creature a nomadic pack species, with a dominance hierarchy, which didn't seem to bode well. "Huh. Well, there you are. Oh, you poor thing. You brutal, murderous, abandoned thing." He began spinning the controls again to return to a normal mirror. "I hope we meet again soon so I can take you home." All sounds were caught in Florence's throat when she saw the reflection of the creature, all teeth and beak, growling at them from only inches away. The Doctor looked up and froze. "Maybe not this soon."
He grabbed Florence's hand and began to run, the creature following them with cantering strides and knocking things over in its paths. They paused around a corner and the Doctor took a quick glance in the mirror before hurrying them on down the next street, he began to knock over baskets and tables to slow the creature down, Florence copying him with a bench that was to her left. They kept running until the sounds slowed down before fading completely, both letting out a sigh of relief once the Doctor had checked the mirror to see it had in fact gone. Florence automatically rested her forehead on his tweed covered chest as she caught her breath, while the Doctor raised a hand and stroked her head softly. "It's gone. It's gone." Florence looked up at him and shook her head lightly, unable to believe how close they had let it get to them.
"Let's head back to the TARDIS to print that picture for Vincent." She suggested, and he nodded, turning the corner only to bump head first into none other than Amy Pond. All three let out various levels of screams and yells as they shocked each other.
"Never do that!" The Doctor yelled out at her, clutching his chest on either side, while Florence ran her hands down her face in relief.
"You scared the shit out of me!" She gasped. "Fuuuuck!" The Doctor straightened his bow tie in agitation while Amy leaned on the stone wall next to her, only semi-apologetic.
"Sorry, I got bored." She told them "As much as you admire his command of colour and shape, it is hard to get fond of Vincent Van Gogh's snoring."
Florence became acquainted with Vincent's snoring pretty quickly when the trio finally made their way back to the cottage, she could hear it from the kitchen where she was fetching pots and water to help Amy with her latest idea. Which involved around a hundred francs worth of sunflowers to litter his courtyard in preparation for his awakening. The Doctor ran up to wake the painter while Florence and Amy put the finishing touches on the surprise, Florence placing the last jug on the table just in time to hear the slam of the shutters opening and the Doctor's voice calling out. "What a morning!" Florence looked up, squinting to see him in front of the sun and gave a little wave, which he returned before disappearing from view and being replaced by Vincent, who looked down and the courtyard filled with flowers.
"I thought I'd brighten things up to thank you for saving me last night." Amy called up to him, and Vincent smiled at the gesture. "I thought you might like, you know, possibly to perhaps paint them or something? Might be a thought."
"Subtle." Florence muttered, laughing and taking the cup of tea the Doctor had brought out for her, touched once again at his thoughtfulness, she assumed it was a response to her informing him of their previous adventure.
"Yes, well, they're not my favourite flower." Vincent told them, and Florence nearly choked on her sip of tea,
"You don't like sunflowers?" She asked incredulously, and Vincent shook his head, reaching out to touch one that the Doctor had managed to get to hang outside his window,
"No, it's not that I don't like them. I find them complex." He clarified. "Always somewhere between living and dying. Half-human as they turn to the sun. A little disgusting. But, you know, they are a challenge."
"And one I'm pretty sure you'll rise to." The Doctor commented, and Florence grumbled slightly at his constant interruption of what was the only time she would be able to talk art with such an iconic painter. "But, moving on, there's something I need to show you." Vincent nodded and retreated back into his room, while the three outside made their way into the house. Florence stroked one of the flower petals outside softly grabbing a vase of them to bring inside of the house with her, smiling.
"Well, they're my favourite." She told the Doctor, who wrapped his arm around her shoulders and guided her into the house.
"I know." Of course he does, Florence thought, finding herself secretly pleased with his constant cutesy facts about her, favourite flower is less creepy knowledge than blood type I guess… wait does he know that too?
Once inside the cottage, the jug of sunflowers on the table, the Doctor pulled the grainy black and white image of the creature out of his pocket and handed it to Vincent to look at. "That's him." He confirmed. "And the eyes, without mercy." The Doctor nodded, pacing the room slightly.
"This is a creature called the Krafayis. They travel in space. They travel as a pack, scavenging across the universe. And sometimes one of them gets left behind." He sat down and looked at the three humans in the room with him, listening to his every word. "And because they are a brutal race, the others never come back. So, dotted all around the universe are individual, utterly merciless, utterly abandoned Krafayis. And what they do is, well, kill, until they're killed. Which they usually aren't. Because other creatures can't see them."
"But I can." Vincent pointed out, and the Doctor pointed a finger at him.
"Yes. And that's why we are in a unique position today, my friend, to end this reign of terror. So," he continued smoothly interjecting their whole reason for coming to see Vincent into his explanation, "feeling like painting the church today?"
"What about the monster?" Vincent asked, and Florence smirked.
"Don't worry. We're sure that if you paint it, he will come."
He stood from his chair and headed out of the room. "Okay I'll get my things." He told them, the Doctor calling after him before he left,
"In your own time. And I promise you, we'll be out of your hair by this time tomorrow." The painter turned and looked at them once more before he left and Florence bit her lip, looking at the Doctor.
"This seems risky." The Doctor nodded.
"Very."
"Riskier than normal?" Amy asked, fairly.
"Well, think about it. This is the middle of Vincent Van Gogh's greatest year of painting." Florence told the ginger. "Some of his most crucial works of art are attributed to the mental torment he suffered right here right now." The Doctor ran his hands through his hair worriedly.
"If we're not careful," he continued, "the net result of our pleasant little trip will be the brutal murder of the greatest artist who ever lived. Half the pictures on the wall of the Musée d'Orsay will disappear. And it will be our fault." They sat in silence for a moment before Florence nudged the Doctor gently,
"You should go and get him, make sure he's ready to go." The Doctor nodded and waltzed out of the room, leaving Amy and Florence to stew in the implications of their being here.
"He'll be okay." Amy said quietly. "Won't he? I mean, it's Vincent Van Gogh!" Florence sighed and shrugged slightly,
"As long as we make sure he lives, he'll be okay." Before they could say anymore they were interrupted by the sounds of shouting coming from upstairs, the two girls rushed out of the kitchen towards the stairs outside that led to the painter's bedroom, where the Doctor was leaving.
"What's happening?" Amy asked the Doctor, who was looking dejected.
"We're leaving. Everyone knows he's a delicate man. Just months from now he'll, he'll take his own life." He told her, Florence glanced sadly at the closed door in front of her, but Amy shook her head as the doctor tried to walk away.
"Don't say that. Please." He simply gave her a sad look and walked down the stairs back towards the kitchen, Florence laid a gentle hand on Amy's shoulder.
"It's okay, Amy. We'll just give him a moment. He'll come." The ginger girl nodded and allowed Florence to lead her back down the stairs. The Doctor was looking at the paintings that littered the kitchen when they entered, giving them a supportive smile.
"Come on. We have to do this on our own. Go to the church at the right time and hope the monster still turns up."
A shadow crossed the wall of the kitchen in front of Amy, highlighting the figure of a man in a straw boaters hat, they turned to see Vincent, dressed and picking up his supplies. "I'm ready. Let's go."
WHEW that was lengthy, loved this chapter! Thoughts, comments, concerns? I'd love to hear them!
See you for chapter ten! xo