Vincent and the Doctor - Part Two

A few moments after Amy and I found a table to sit at, a bottle of wine, four small glasses, and a delicious looking blueberry tart were brought over by one of the servers. Before I even had a chance to decline the alcohol I'd already had a glass poured for me, and when I looked across the table to Amy for guidance she only raised her glass to me before taking a sip for herself.

"Hey it's not like there's a drinking limit at this point in history, yeah? Live a little!" she said, sliding the other glass closer to me. "It's not overly bitter either, if that's what you're worried about."

I took up the small glass in my hand, looking down curiously at the burgundy contents for a moment before sniffing it a bit. Sniffing was something you were supposed to do with wine, right? The brief whiff I took only seemed to confuse me more; I expected a fruity scent but instead was greeted with something more akin to cologne. I decided to approach it similar to how I would approach cough medicine when I was younger. The glass was only half-full anyways, so I didn't imagine it'd be too much to handle. So after a small sigh, I raised my glass to Amy and knocked the wine back in one gulp.

It was like I had just ingested a potion brewed in a store's perfume department, and while the majority of my thoughts were about how intensely sour it was, a small part of my mind kind of liked it. I fought to swallow the wine as it seemed to burn its way down my throat, but enjoyed the slight aftertaste of lavender that remained. Amy giggled a bit as I felt my face heat up and a full body shiver passed through me. I had to find something to get the bitterness out of my mouth and very quickly the tart proved to be a willing sacrifice. I cut myself a generous slice and quickly bit a large piece, relishing how the blueberries proved an effective palette cleanser.

"Never," I paused a moment to swallow the rest of the tart in my mouth, "ever again am I trusting you to tell me if something's bitter or not, Amy."

"Well you're not supposed to down it all at once!" Amy retorted, slicing off a piece of the tart for herself. "Wine's something you're supposed to sip on over time. You need to be patient with it."

"Oh, like I would've known that with my expansive knowledge of alcohol at sixteen years old. Like, hey I can't drive or vote but I definitely know how to properly drink w—"

I would've continued my small rant, but Amy hastily began to shush me.

"The Doctor's coming in with Vincent. Act casual!" she hissed. I turned slightly in my chair to see the pair in question wading through the tables towards us, and the moment the Doctor saw where we were seated he waved at us. I quickly pocketed the small wine glass in front of me, reasoning that if it weren't there on the table he wouldn't ask if I'd had anything to drink. My reasoning must've been unsound though because as I looked up from my messenger bag, Amy shot me a rather confused look.

"Have you got any better ideas?" I asked, giving an exaggerated shrug.

"Ideas about what?" the Doctor asked, pulling out the chair across from me to sit next to Amy.

"Oh, nothing! Just about… um…"

Ideas about what? Think Ginny! Think!

"About how lovely this tart is!" Amy exclaimed, coming in for the save. I shot her a thankful look from across the table which she subtly acknowledged with a small nod.

"Yeah, you should definitely have a slice. It's really good!" I moved to hack off a piece for him, but before I could reach for the knife the Doctor stabbed a fork into my slice retrieving a sizable bite. For a moment I stared up in awe of the Time Lord's audacity, contemplating whether he should feel the wrath of a slightly tipsy and very hangry teenager, but the looks me and Amy were giving him must've been enough because he slowly sat down in his seat and began to cut his own slice.

"Sorry." he muttered sheepishly. "You're right though. It's quite nice."

I gave him a quick and curt nod before returning to my breakfast.

"Vincent, would you like a piece?" Amy asked as she poured the artist a glass of wine. He held up his hand as a polite decline to her offer.

"I'm not as hungry as your friends are, but thank you for the offer." He took a sip from his glass before placing it back down on the table. "That accent of yours. Are you from Holland like me?"

While the Doctor and I were quick to respond in the affirmative, Amy was quick to say she wasn't before looking confusedly at the two of us.

"She means yes. Gotta love those tulips, right?" I said, doing my best to play along.

"Exactly. So, start again." the Doctor extended a hand to Vincent in a friendly greeting. "Hello, I'm the Doctor."

"I knew it!" Vincent exclaimed, almost sounding defeated. The Doctor and I briefly exchanged looks before he returned his attention to the artist.

"Sorry?"

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

"Oh, no I'm not that kind of doctor!" the Doctor clarified with a slight chuckle, before his attention was drawn to another one of the paintings Vincent brought with him. "That's incredible! Don't you both think so?"

The café's dim lighting made it hard to tell at a glance which painting was being held up, but as I leaned in for a closer look I realized I was looking at the newly finished Siesta.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" I said, tilting my head to the side so I could view the painting from its proper angle.

"Absolutely. One of my favorites!" Amy added.

"One of my favorite whats? You've never seen my work before," Vincent said skeptically. Thankfully, Amy was quick to correct her anachronistic admiration.

"Ah yes. One of my favorite paintings that I've ever seen… generally."

While the wording could've been better, Vincent appeared to buy the cover-up hook, line and sinker. I gave Amy a brief thumbs-up as she took another sip of wine.

"Well you can't have seen many paintings, then. I know it's terrible, but it's the best I can do." Vincent said glumly, setting the painting down before looking down at his glass.

"Sometimes one's best is enough." I mused, poking idly at the remainder of my tart slice with my fork. Upon looking up for a brief second I caught the slightest smile gracing the artist's face before he fixed his gaze back on Amy.

"Your hair is orange," he said, attempting to form a compliment. Amy leaned in closer, a flirtatious glint in her eyes.

"Yes," she responded, "So's yours."

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

"Oh dear, the flirting," I said under my breath, rolling my eyes and smiling slightly when I saw the Doctor doing the same thing. Fortunately for us though, he knew exactly how to get the conversation back on track. Or rather, at least I thought he would; but to my surprise he decided to jump in on the discussion on hair colors. Well, I say jump but he really just crashed headfirst into the flirting session with the subtlety of a train wreck.

"My hair's blue, if anyone's interested," he said proudly. Vincent and Amy both jumped slightly at the Doctor's sudden interruption, and while I was initially confused by the redirection, it did the job and allowed the conversation to be redirected to more important matters.

"Yes, I was meaning to say something about that," the artist said, clearing his throat. "How is your hair such a vibrant shade?"

"A very boring night and an abundance of pigments. Learn from my mistake, keep the paint on the canvas. But speaking of pigments and paint, Vincent, painted any churches recently? Any churchy plans? Are churches, chapels, religiousy 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."

"Then it's a good thing there won't be any rain for the next few days." I chimed in, "And it isn't overbearingly warm either so that's also a plus."

"It's very good news indeed." The Doctor barely had enough time to get his words out before an older woman ran into the café, waving her hands about and shrieking for help.

"That, on the other hand, isn't quite such good news. Come on, everyone!"

Amy and I were right behind him with Vincent bringing up the rear as we followed the sounds of a crowd building just a few steps away.

"She's been ripped to shreds!" one onlooker wailed.

"Who is it?" another asked.

I waded through the group until I was an arm's length from the Doctor, but a quick glance at the carnage in front of him sent me staggering backwards into a stone wall. All I could make out in the seconds I laid eyes on the victim was the horrific shade of red that her clothes had been stained; and the smell. Oh gods, the smell. The heavy metallic odor crept through the summer air and left me holding my hands up to my mouth and nose for even the slightest respite. I had to get away from it. Step by creeping step I retreated down the path back to the café, focusing my attention on the different shaped cobblestones beneath my feet in an effort to keep myself grounded.

But any hopes of calming my racing heart were dashed when the Doctor grabbed my hand and sent us sprinting past the café and into another back alley. The exact moment we came to a halt I tried to wriggle my hand out of his grasp, but the moment the Doctor noticed my hand wasn't in his he pulled me in for a hug that I was more than welcome to receive.

"I only ever saw a hand when it was a show," I said, my voice muffled slightly by the Doctor's jacket. "It was all so… there was so much of it."

"I know. I'm sorry you had to see it." he said before pulling away to let me catch my breath. "Is everyone all right?"

Amy nodded slightly before leaning against a wall across from me. I tried take a step forward to join her but nearly tripped over something soft; and when I looked down while regaining my footing I was pleasantly surprised to find the cat we accidentally spooked upon first landing here. I reached down gingerly to pick up the feline, which immediately began kneading into the soft fabric of my cardigan.

"Someone's a cuddle bug." I mused quietly, running my free hand through its short silky fur. Before I could further acquaint myself with the stray, however, Amy tapped me on my shoulder which caused it to leap from my arms and dart a few feet away.

"Were you listening to any of that?" she asked as I picked the cat up again.

"Listening to what?" I asked in return. She only laughed a bit in response before running to catch up to the Doctor, who had apparently started walking ahead without any of us. Vincent and I shared a brief look before we started walking after them.

"I'm surprised that one's letting you hold him." he said, glancing down at the cat. "He's not exactly a social creature."

I shrugged slightly. "Neither am I, to be honest. But I've heard that cats are good judges of character, so I suppose this means something."

"I suppose so."

"Um, Vincent?" the Doctor shouted down to us. "Sorry to ask, but how to we get to your home?"

The artist briefly shook his head before taking the lead to be our guide. Thankfully his house was only a short distance out of town, so it wouldn't be too long of a trek to eventually make our way back to the Tardis. Once we reached Vincent's home the cat leapt out of my arms again before sitting on one of the low-hanging roofs of a nearby building; and with one final scratch under its chin, I left him be and rejoined Vincent, Amy and the Doctor.

"I live on my own, but you should be okay for one night. One night." Vincent emphasized as he lit a lantern.

"We're gonna stay with him?" Amy asked in a hushed but still excited tone.

"Until he paints that church," the Doctor said.

After hanging his hat up I saw Vincent point at something hanging up in front of him. "Watch out. That one's wet." he warned before passing through a doorway with the Doctor on his tail.

Amy and I tried to ask for clarification with a "What?" and "Huh?" from each of us respectively, but what the artist said made perfect sense once we laid our eyes on what he'd been referring to.

"Ginny, is that… The Bedroom in Arles?" Amy asked, holding up her guidebook.

"Yep."

"Still wet from being finished possibly only hours ago?"

"Yep."

We briefly shared a look before we started giggling excitedly while hopping up and down like the crazed fanatics we were. Amy then quickly took my hand to pretty much drag me into Vincent's house, but the moment we passed through the doorway I started to feel her grip loosen before slackening entirely when we laid eyes on the various masterpieces hanging on the walls, stacked on tables, or propped against other pieces of furniture.

"Oh, wow." was all I could manage to say.

"I mean, really. Wow." Amy added on.

"Yeah, I know. It's a mess." Vincent said from the next room over with a disappointed tone, "I'll have a proper clear-out. I must, I really must."

"Don't you dare even consider it, Vinny." I said quietly. One stack of canvases in particular seemed to be calling me and as I thumbed through them like vinyl records Vincent asked if any of us wanted coffee. I looked up briefly from my pile to politely decline, but when I laid my eyes back on the canvases I froze in place when I saw the painting I'd discovered. It was the Skull of a Skeleton With Burning Cigarette; certainly not a mainstream favorite, but it was definitely in my top five of Van Gogh's paintings. I excitedly showed it off to Amy, and while she didn't seem to recognize it, she certainly seemed to share my appreciation for it.

"—Precious to me. Not precious to anyone else." Vincent said from the other room, and after we shared a brief look me and Amy decided to put an end to the self-deprecation.

"They're precious to me!" Amy said, poking her head around the corner before entering the next room.

"Me too!" I added on, following her through the doorway.

"Well, you're both very kind. And kindness is most welcome." he replied, wiping away a coffee ring from one of his paintings.

I looked down at the cluttered bureau in the hopes of finding a rag for him to use instead, but the only things I found were brushes caked in dried paint, half-used tubes of oil pigment, and a well-loved painter's palette. Amy plucked one of the brushes from a vase and examined it with such care that one might've thought she was holding a fossil. She looked like a kid in a candy store, and I couldn't blame her at all. While I continued my vain attempt to find a rag to clean the coffee stain, the Doctor returned to his vain attempt to get us back on track.

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

"What is it with you and the church?" Vincent asked in return, retrieving wood to start a fire.

"Oh, just casually interested in it, y'know."

"Far from casual. It seems to me you never talk about anything else." Vincent then turned to me and Amy to address us directly. "He's a strange one."

Understatement of the century there, I thought.

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

Vincent looked up from the pile of wood he'd set up in the fireplace and gestured around the room with an outstretched arm.

"Well, look around. Art!" he said. "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 said, smiling fondly.

After getting the fire going and slamming back a couple cups of coffee, Vincent Van Gogh launched into a series of passionate rants regarding the many facets of art. Amy managed to discreetly excuse herself to look at more of the paintings outside, leaving only me and the Doctor to bear witness to our new friend's caffeine-fueled ramblings. It was incredible to witness just how much he adored his craft; how much beauty he could see in the world around him. But on the other side of the coin, I could almost see why some people thought him to be, well, mad. The sheer intensity of Vincent's passion for his work could be considered a lot to some. I hate to admit it, but I found myself becoming rather overwhelmed by the outpouring of information; so despite my wishes to be a polite guest, I made a beeline for the door to join Amy. But as I rounded the corner to head back outside I stopped dead in my tracks.

I can see it.

How the hell can I see it?

Sat up like a house cat with its knitting needle-like quills stood on end, the Krafayis seemed to be cowering between a small table and a clothing line sporting several drying paintings. It was roughly the size of a polar bear, with milky white skin save for the reddish hue of its face, and two wattles came down on either side of its head like a trapper hat. Its clouded white eyes, footlong talons, and battle-worn beak gave the beast an even more menacing air.

And Amy was about to walk right in front of it.

"Amy, come over towards me. Now." I said quietly, taking careful steps away from the door and holding out my hand for her to take. She looked at me initially with confusion, but I suppose my concern was rather evident on my face so she quickly made her way over to me.

"Ginny, what's wrong? What is it?" she asked worriedly, her voice matching my hushed volume.

"It's the monster from the painting, but something's wrong."

"Yeah, I'd say something's wrong. That thing's here. That's what's wrong!"

The Krafayis looked like it was about to rear back in defense so I quickly shushed Amy. Thankfully it didn't come any closer to us, but it maintained its reared up pose as if prepared for an attack.

"Amy, it would've shown up tonight no matter what. That's not what's wrong. And to be honest, I'm not sure if 'wrong' is the proper word. What's different is that it doesn't look like it wants to attack us. If I didn't know any better, I'd actually say it almost looks frightened."

"How come I can't see it?"

"It's invisible to pretty much everyone. But we know from the painting that Vincent can see it, and for some reason so can I."

"So what do we do?"

Without offering an answer, I took another step closer to the creature and continued my approach as quietly as I could. It somehow hadn't heard my footsteps, so as I crept closer I began to reach out my hand like I did with the alley cat. I'd managed to get about three feet away from it before I heard a low bellow come from its throat.

"Shhh, it's okay. It's okay. You're scared, I get that." I said in a soothing tone. "But you don't have to be. I want to help you."

Another bellow gave way to a scratchy cooing sound I can best compare to a mourning dove with laryngitis; and I suppose it was one of the least aggressive noises it could make because to my surprise it started to lean forward towards my hand. I was mere inches away from my very own How to Train Your Dragon moment when everything cam tumbling down.

"Get away from her!" Vincent shouted.

One moment I was knelt inches away from the Krafayis, the next I was splayed out on my back gasping for air. I tried rolling onto my side, but the smallest bit of movement sent a spike of pain rippling across my chest and the coughing fit that shortly followed certainly didn't do me any favors. I eventually got into a sitting position in time to see the Krafayis roaring before it turned around and galloped back into the forest. When its footsteps were no longer audible, the Doctor turned his attention from Vincent and offered me a hand. I rose to my feet gingerly, shrinking back a bit in expectation of the scolding of a lifetime, but it never came. All I got was a disappointed sigh, which somehow stung more than any amount of, 'What were you thinking?'s ever could.

Back in the house, I dug into my messenger bag for the sketchbook, turned to a blank page, and hastily swapped it out with the still life painting that would've been covered up.

"Right, so he's invisible. What did he look like?" the Doctor asked as I set the still life down against the bureau.

"I'll show you." Vincent said, and without missing a beat he grabbed the sketchbook and a charcoal pencil. Amy and I watched in awe as he worked carefully on his sketch of the creature, and after a few minutes revealed the finished product to the Doctor. Through the scratchy lines of the charcoal sketch, the Krafayis almost appeared more menacing than it did in reality. Its claws held a

"Okay. Okay." he said in a hushed tone as he tore the sketch out from the book, folded it up, and placed it in his jacket pocket. "Right. You two, make Mr. Van Gogh comfortable. Don't let any invisible monsters in through the front door."

"But it could be outside, waiting!" Amy protested.

"Well, don't worry. I'll risk it. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You could get torn into pieces by a monster you can't see."

"Oh right, yes, that. Um…" the Doctor looked around the room for a moment before suddenly pulling me up from my spot on the cushioned bench and hooking my arm with his. "I'll take Ginny with me! She was trying to tame whatever's outside so naturally she must be able to see it. It'll be like having a seeing-eye dog. No, wait. Scratch that. That's demeaning, I think."

"A little bit, but you're not wrong. The kra—" I caught myself just before giving out any untimely exposition, "creature out there seemed more scared than anything, too. So I doubt it'll want to find any trouble either."

Amy still didn't look convinced, and to be fair I couldn't really blame her.

"Don't worry. We'll be back before you can say 'Where've they got to now?'."

I nearly tripped over my own two feet as the Doctor led us back outside, but midway through the hall he stopped, unhooked our arms, and gave a mischievous smirk before rushing back into the living room with his arms flailing.

"Not that fast!" he shouted, earning a shriek from Amy and a loud gasp from Vincent. "But pretty fast. See you around."


Sorry about the wait on this chapter! A lot of things happened between my last update and now causing this fic to take the backburner, but I appreciate y'all's patience with me! Please leave a review if you feel so inclined, and I'll see y'all in the next chapter. :)