Vincent and the Doctor Part 1

We find ourselves at the Musee D'Orsay, in Paris, because Amy loves Van Gogh.

"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." We take in all the paintings as the curator talks about him.

"Thanks for bringing me," Amy says nudging the Doctor on the arm.

"You're welcome."

"You're being so nice to me. Why are you being so nice to me?" Amy questions suspiciously.

"I'm always nice to you."

"Not like this. These places you're taking us-Arcadia, the Trojan Gardens, now this. I think it's suspicious."

"What? It's not! There's nothing to be suspicious about." Amy smiles at his defensiveness.

"Ok, I was joking. Why aren't you?" The Doctor and I share a look before turning to look at the speaker.

"Each of these pictures now is worth tens of millions of pounds. Yet in his lifetime, he was a commercial disaster. 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 have sole his entire body of work and got about enough money to buy a sofa. And a couple of chairs." The crowd chuckles out of pity. "If you follow me now…"

"Who is it?" A little boy questions behind us.

"It's the doctor!" We all turn quickly to see two boys looking at one of the paintings. "He was the doctor who took care of Van Gogh when he started to go mad." The Doctor smiles at them.

"I knew that," the other boy notes.

"Look!" Amy exclaims dragging me excitedly by the arm. "There it is the actual one."

"Yes. You can almost feel his hand painting it right in front of you. Carving the colors into shapes…" We marvel at the painting as the Doctor pauses. "Wait a minute."

"What?" Amy and I question at the same time.

"Well, just look at that." I finally see what he is talking about.

"What?" Amy questions again.

"Something very not good indeed," the Doctor states.

"What thing very not good?"

"Look there, in the window of the church," I say pointing with my finger.

"Is it a face?"

"Yes. And not a nice face at all. I know evil when I see it and I see it in that window." The Doctor turns back to the curator.

"It has changed hands for something in the region of 20…" The Doctor steps in and interrupts him midsentence.

"Excuse me. If I can just interrupt for one second. Sorry, everyone." He holds out his trusty psychic paper. "Routine inspection Ministry of Art and…Artiness. So, um…"

"Dr. Black."

"Yes, that's right. Do you actually know when that picture of the church was painted?"

"Ah, well, ah! What an interesting question. Most people…"

"I'm going to have to hurry you. When was it?"

"Exactly?"

"As exactly as you can. Without a long speech, if poss. I'm in a hurry."

"Well, in that case, probably somewhere between the 1st and 3rd of June."

"What year?"

"1890. Less than a year before…Before he killed himself."

"Thank you, sir. Very helpful indeed. Nice bow tie. Bow ties are cool." Amy and I roll our eyes at this exchange.

"Yours is very…"

"Oh, thank you. Keep telling them stuff." He turns to us. "We need to go."

"What about the other pictures?" Amy whines as she pulls the Doctor back.

"Art can wait. This is life and death." He slings her forwards and pushes me along. "We need to talk to Vincent Van Gogh."

DWDWDWDWDWDW

We walk out of the TARDIS and in to the streets of 1890s Paris.

"Right, so here's the plan. We find Vincent, and he leads us straight to the church and our nasty friend."

"Easy-peasy," Amy quips.

"Well, no. I suspect nothing will be easy with Mr. Van Gogh. Now, he'll probably be in the local café-sort of orangey light, chairs and tables outside." Amy checks the booklet she picked up at the museum.

"Like this?" she questions pointing to a picture.

"That's the one." I look up and pause as they run in to me.

"Or indeed like…that." I point ahead of us at the café.

"Yeah, exactly like that. Good evening." We approach the café and the Doctor speaks to a man. "Does the name Vincent Van Gogh ring a bell?"

"Don't mention that man to me," the man grumbles before walking back inside.

"Excuse me," the Doctor comments before turning to a waitress. "Do you know Vincent Van Gogh?"

"Unfortunately," she huffs placing her hands on her hips.

"Unfortunately?" Amy questions.

"He's drunk, he's mad and he never pays his bills."

"Good painter, though, eh?" I question quietly. Both the waitresses laugh at that. The Doctor and I take a seat dejectedly.

"Come on, come on! One painting for one drink. That's not a bad deal." We hear a man arguing from inside. The Doctor and I smile over at Amy.

"It wouldn't be a bad deal if the painting were any good," the manager says as he walks back outside. The Doctor and Amy make wild gesture at the sight of Vincent. "I can't hang that up on my walls. It'd scare the customers half to death. 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."

"I'll pay if you like," the Doctor offers.

"What?" the manager questions. Vincent turns to look at us.

"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?" Vincent questions curiously.

"Oh, we're…" he starts as he motions to me, "new in town."

"Well, in that case, you don't know three things."

"Go on."

"One, I pay for my own drinks, thank you." The others scoff and laugh at this. "Two, 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, you're friend behind me is cute, but you should keep your big nose out of other people's business." He turns back to the manager. "Now, come on, just one more drink. I'll pay tomorrow."

"No."

"Or, on the other hand, slightly more compassionately, yes?" The Doctor and I watch the interaction with a bemused look.

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

"Or…"

"Oh, look, just shut up, the pair of you!" Amy interjects finally. Amy saunters over to the manager. "I would like a bottle of wine, please, which I will then share with whomever I choose."

"That could be good," Vincent admits.

"That's good by me," the manager comments.

"Good," Amy comments before turning to walk inside.

DWDWDWDWDWDW

We sit at one of the tables inside as Amy and Vincent enjoy a bottle of wine.

"That accent of yours. Are you from Holland, like me?" Vincent questions.

"Yes." "No." Amy and the Doctor answer at the same time. Amy looks at him suspiciously.

"She means yes. So, start again. Hello, I'm the Doctor." The Doctor offers Vincent his hand.

"I knew it!" Vincent exclaimed.

"Sorry?"

"My brother's always sending doctors, but you won't be able to help."

"Oh no, not that kind of doctor. Isn't that incredible," the Doctor points at a painting leaning next to Vincent, "don't you think, Amy?"

"Absolutely. One of my favorites," Amy states without thinking.

"One of my favorite whats? You've never seen my work before."

"Ah, yes." She looks at me nervously. "Uh, one of my favorite paintings that I've ever seen. Generally." I roll my eyes at her feeble attempt to cover her tracks.

"Then you can't have seen many paintings, then. I know it's terrible. It's the best I could do." He stares intently at Amy for a moment, "Your hair is orange."

"Yes. So's yours," Amy replies.

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

"So, Vincent, painted any churches recently?" I ask trying to break up this awkward moment.

"Right," the Doctor says giving me a wink. "Any churchy plans? Are churches, chapels, religiously stuff like that, something you'd like to get into? You know, fairly soon?"

"Well, there is one church I'm thinking of painting when the weather is right," he admits slowly.

"That is very good news."

"She's been murdered!" I woman runs in screaming.

"Help me!" Another women cries out.

"That, on the other hand, isn't quite such good news." A church bell rings as the Doctor jumps out of his seat. "Come on, Amy, Jaz, Vincent!"

DWDWDWDWDWDW

We run down the streets following the screams of the people.

"She's been ripped to shreds!" a man comments as we approach the scene.

"Please, let me look. I'm a doctor." He shoves a couple people aside. Amy, Vincent, and I stand back a few feet.

"Who is it?" we hear someone question.

"Oh, no, no," the Doctor comments sadly.

"Is she dead?" someone questions.

"Away, all of you vultures!" A woman comes running up the street. "This is my daughter. Giselle. What monster could have done this? Get away from her!"

"Ok, ok," the Doctor comments as he and Vincent take a step back.

"Get that madman out of here!" the woman screams as she throws a rock at him. The others in the group start hurling rocks as well. We duck for cover before the Doctor pushes us away. "You bring this on us. Your madness! You!"

"He's to blame!" We continue to run until we are far enough away from the people.

"Are you all right?" The Doctor asks Vincent as we all try to catch our breaths.

"Yes, I'm used to it," he replies breathlessly.

"Jaz, you're bleeding," Amy observes. I reach up and feel where one of the rocks hit me just above my left eye. The Doctor takes out his handkerchief.

"Ow!" I say wincing as he places on the cut.

"Sorry," he mutters as I take the handkerchief out of his hand.

"This is my fault," Vincent says sorrowfully.

"It's not," Amy and I reply at the same time.

"Has anything like this murder happened here before?" the Doctor questions turning back to Vincent.

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

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

"Where are you staying tonight?" Vincent questions.

"Oh, you're very kind." The Doctor and Vincent head off but Amy pulls my arm.

"Let me see, Jaz," she says as she pulls my hand away.

"Amy, I'm fine," I say pulling my hand from her grasp as I try to walk away. She steps in my way.

"What is with you? You've never given me such an attitude before," Amy says as she crosses her arms.

"I'm sorry," I say softening immediately. "I'm fine, honestly. It's just a little bump on the head. I'll be right as rain in a couple days." I give her a small smile.

"If you're sure?"

"Yes, let's just go," I say taking her by the hand pulling her along to catch up with the Doctor and Vincent.

DWDWDWDWDWDW

"Dark night, very starry," the Doctor comments as Vincent leads us to his house.

"It's not much. I live on my own. But you should be ok for one night. One night," he stresses the last part.

"We're going to stay with him?" Amy questions in a whisper.

"Until he paints that church." Vincent lights a lantern and then leads us inside.

"Watch out. That one's wet," he points out.

"What?" I hear Amy question as Vincent leads us inside. He lights another lantern.

"Sorry about all the clutter," he comments as the Doctor and I enter the room.

"Some clutter," I comment as I hand him back his handkerchief.

"I've come to accept the only person who's going to love my paintings is me."

"Wow," Amy comments as she finally joins us. "I mean, really. Wow."

"Yeah, I know, it's a mess. I'll have a proper clear out. I must, I really must." We all stare in awe at all of Vincent's most valuable paintings. "Coffee, anyone?"

"Not for me, actually," the Doctor comments walking over to the kitchen. "You know, you should be careful with these. They're…precious."

"Precious to me. Not precious to anyone else," we hear Vincent reply.

"They're precious to me!" Amy calls out as we walk to the kitchen door.

"Well, you're very kind. And kindness is most welcome."

"Right, so, this church, then. Near here, is it?"

"What is it with you and the church?"

"Oh, just casually interested in it, you know."

"Far from casual. Seems to me you never talk about anything else." Vincent pauses from stoking the fireplace to look and me and Amy. "He's a strange one." We both nod in agreement.

"Ok, so, let's talk about you then. What are you interested in?"

"Well, look around-art. 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."

"You don't have to tell me," the Doctor comments looking at Amy and then at me.

DWDWDWDWDWDW

The Doctor and I sit next to the fireplace while Vincent rambles on.

"It's color. Color that holds the key. I can hear the colors. Listen to them. Every time I step outside, I feel nature is shouting at me, 'Come on. Come and get me. Come on." Vincent walks up to the Doctor and grabs the lapels of his jacket. "Come on! Capture my mystery!'"

"Maybe you've had enough coffee now. How about some nice calming tea?" Vincent let's go of the Doctor. "Let's get you a cup of chamomile or something, shall we? Amy? Where's Amy?" We look around as we hear her scream. "No, no. No!" We all rush to the door as she continues to scream.

"Amy? Amy?" I run out first to see her on her hands and knees. We run over to her.

"What happened?" the Doctor questions as he and Vincent stand guard around us.

"I don't know, I didn't see it. I was just having a look at some of the paintings out here when something hit me from behind," her voice shakes as she answers.

"It's ok. He's gone now, and we're here," the Doctor promises. I give her a hand up.

"No! No!" Vincent starts freaking out.

"Take it easy. Take it easy!" the Doctor tries to calm him.

"What's happening? What's he doing?" Amy questions.

"I don't know!" the Doctor comments as Vincent grabs a pitch fork. "Oh, dear," the Doctor comments as Vincent runs at us with the pitch fork pointed at us. We split apart just as he comes close.

"Run," he says motioning at us.

"Yeah," the Doctor says as he stands between Amy and I and Vincent.

"Run!" he yells at us again.

Yeah, yeah. That's not a bad idea." Vincent swings the fork about. "Amy, Jaz, get back. He's having some kind of fit. I'll try to calm him down." We hide behind a pillar. "Easy, Vincent, easy. 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 warns as the Doctor is flung sideways. Amy grabs a painting and holds it out in front of her as she walks over to the Doctor. She screams as the painting is ripped.

"I can't see anything. What is it?" Amy questions fearfully.

"That is a good question." The Doctor grabs a stick. "Let me help you."

"What, you can see him too?"

"Yes…ish." The Doctor swings the stick blindly. "Well, no. Not really." Suddenly the Doctor is thrown backward.

"You couldn't see him," Vincent comments ironically.

"No. No. Oi!" The Doctor runs back to wear he was hit and swings the stick wildly. Vincent jabs upward and we hear a roar as something runs out of the yard. The Doctor is still swinging wildly.

"He's gone," Vincent informs him. The Doctor stops and looks at us.

"Oh, right. Yes, of course."

DWDWDWDWDWDW

"Right," the Doctor begins once we are back inside. "So he's invisible? What did he look like?" Vincent takes one of his paintings and starts white washing it.

"I'll show you."

"Oh, no, no, no!" the Doctor cries when he realizes what he's doing.

"What?"

"It's just…That was quite a good…Oh, no. On you go." We watch as Vincent quickly sketches out what the creature looks like. "Ok." The Doctor takes the sketch. "Right. Amy, Jaz, make Mr. Van Gogh comfortable. Don't let any invisible monsters in through the front door." Amy jumps up and grabs on to the Doctor.

"But it could be outside! Waiting!"

"Don't worry, I'll risk it. What's the worst that can happen?"

"You could get torn into pieces by a monster you can't see," I comment from my place on the couch.

"Oh, right, yes. That. Don't worry. I'll be back before you can say, 'Where's he got to now?'" He walks out the door and Amy turns to sit back down. "Not that fast!" the Doctor cries jumping back in to the room and scaring us half to death. He laughs at us. "But pretty fast. See you around."

DWDWDWDWDWDW

Amy and I walk the streets looking for the Doctor. We come around a corner and run in to him. We all scream.

"Never do that! You scared the living daylights out of me."

"Sorry. We got bored. As much as you admire his command of color and shape, it is hard to get fond of Vincent Van Gogh's snoring," Amy states.

DWDWDWDWDWDW

Amy and I are sitting in the courtyard waiting for the Doctor to come out with Vincent. The shudders open and the Doctor appears.

"Whoa! What a morning." He leaves and Vincent comes to the window.

"I thought I'd brighten things up to thank you for saving me last night," she says as Vincent takes in all the sunflowers.

"Ah!"

"I thought you might like, you know, possibly to perhaps paint them or something? Might be a thought."

"Yes. Well, they're not my favorite flower."

"You don't like sunflowers?" I question.

"No, it's not that I don't like them. I find them complex. 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. But, moving on, there's something I need to show you," the Doctor informs.

DWDWDWDWDWDW

"That's him! And the eyes. Without mercy," Vincent relays as he looks at the pictures.

"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, 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 replies.

"Yes. And that's why we are in a unique position today, my friend, to end this reign of terror. So, feeling like painting the church today?"

"What about the monster?" Vincent questions forcefully.

"Take my word for it. If you paint it, he will come."

"Ok. I'll get my things." He gets up and rushes to the door.

In your own time. And I promise you, we'll be out of your hair by this time tomorrow." Vincent pauses as he turns back to look at us. He nods sadly and heads up the stairs. "This is risky."

"Riskier than normal?" Amy questions curiously. The Doctor stands up and checks to make sure Vincent can't over hear.

"Well, think about it. This is the middle of Vincent Van Gogh's greatest year of painting. If we're not careful, 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 Musee D'Orsay will disappear." He sits down next to Amy on the couch. "And it will be our fault."