Chapter Twenty: Seeing is Believing
[Tardis]
Emily sat curled up in the corner of her room, blank pieces of paper scattered around her. Hugging her legs tightly, she buried her into her knees and tried to stop the tears from falling.
"Hey, Emily. Just wanted t-" the Doctor said coming into her room. He trailed off as he looked around the at mess, becoming concerned when his eyes came upon the youngest Pond. "Emily?"
"Go away."
He frowned, instantly knowing what was troubling the girl. Softly shutting the door closed behind him, he carefully picked his way through the room.
It was a war zone of ripped paper, canvases, paint and pencils.
"He doesn't turn up."
The red haired girl lifted her head slightly, watery eyes staring blankly in front of her.
"Emily?" He said, cautiously crouching in front of her.
Her red rimmed and puffy eyes flickered towards him, tears threatening to spill over.
"I thought if- if I could d-draw him, them m-maybe she would remember him a-and then he could come b-back. But he just disappears. Every time." She choked out, tears finally falling free down her face.
The Doctor felt his hearts twist painfully and he sank down next to her, carefully taking her hand and prying the pencil from it.
"What do you mean, he disappears?" He asked her gently, rubbing circles into her hand.
Instead of answering, Emily nodded weakly to one of the various sheets of paper littered around her.
Letting go of her hand, the Doctor slowly picked it up and turned it over.
It was Rory.
Even as he stared at it, the drawing continued to faded until all the was left was a blank piece of paper.
He looked around the room in a new light, the countless sheets of paper and white canvases filling him with sadness.
"Oh, Emmy." He whispered, placing an arm around her shoulder and kissing her temple. "I don't think it's that simple."
"Why not?" She sobbed curling into his side. "For once, why can't it be simple?"
"I don't know." He told her sadly. "I don't know."
•|•
The Doctor walked into the control room, a solemn frown ruling his face.
"So, where're we going this time? Did she tell you?"
He ignored Amy and made his way to the centre console, circling it until he got to the scanner.
"Doctor? What's wrong?"
"Amy, right now, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"
"Yeah, of course."
"Good."
"Wh-"
"She needs a distraction." He said, interrupting her and finally tearing his gaze from the screen. "We all do."
"Doctor?"
- A Few Days Later -
[Musée d'Orsay]
The Doctor dragged the two sisters through the exhibition. Emily stared in awe at the Wheatfield with crows that was hanging on a gallery wall, listening intently as an expert enthused over it to his audience.
"So this is one of the last paintings Van Gogh ever painted." The man said. "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. He is now-"
"Thanks for bringing us." Amy told the Doctor.
"You're welcome."
She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You're being so nice to us. Why are you being so nice to us?"
"I'm always nice to you." The Doctor said indignantly.
"Not like this." She replied, watching her sister examine the art with a smile on her face. "These places you're taking us. Arcadia, the Trojan Gardens, now this. I think it's suspicious."
"What? It's not." He said nervously, glancing away from her. "There's nothing to be suspicious about."
"Is it all for a special someone?" She hinted.
"What? No!"
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Okay, I was joking. Why aren't you?"
Instead of answering, the Doctor ignored her and followed the tour group.
"Each of these pictures now is worth tens of millions of pounds, yet in his lifetime he was a commercial disaster." The guide continued to tell his audience. "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 sold his entire body of work and got about enough money to buy a sofa and a couple of chairs. If you follow me now . . . "
"Who is it?" A child asked.
"It's the doctor." His friend replied.
The Doctor and Amy turn around turned around curiously, relaxing when they saw that the two schoolboys were looking at the portrait of Doctor Gachet.
"He was the doctor who took care of Van Gogh when he started to go mad."
"I knew that."
"Look." Emily said , dragging the Doctor and Amy over to a painting. "There it is. The actual one."
She grabbed Amy's Van Gogh exhibition guide book and held the picture next to the painting of the Church at Auvers.
"It's even better in person." She whispered to the Doctor.
Having momentarily been distracted by her grin, the Doctor almost forgot to answer and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yes. You can almost feel his hand painting it right in front of you, carving the colours into shapes." He squinted. "Wait a minute."
"What?" Emily asked.
"Well, just look at that." He said, leaning closer the painting.
"What?"
"Something very not good indeed."
"What thing very not good?" Amy demanded.
"Look there, in the window of the church."
The two sisters lent in next to the Doctor and squinted. In one of the bottom windows was dragon-like image, one that gave Emily the shivers even though it was only a picture.
"Is it a face?" She asked.
"Yes." The Doctor confirmed. "And not a nice face at all. I know evil when I see it and I see it in that window."
He looks away and took big strides to the other side of the room, aiming for the man leading the tour group goes by the Still Life with Twelve Sunflowers.
"It has changed hands for something in the region of twenty-"
"Excuse me." The Doctor said loudly, pulling out his little leather wallet and showing it to the crowd. "If I can just interrupt for one second. Sorry, everyone. Routine inspection, Ministry of Art and Artiness. So, er . . "
"Doctor Black." The man supplied.
"Yes, that's right. Do you know when that picture of the church was painted?"
Dr. Black blinked in surprise. "Ah, well, ah, well, what an interesting question. Most people imagine-"
"I'm going to have to hurry you." The Doctor told him impatiently. "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 first and third 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."
Completely bewildered, all he did was blink and smile slightly. "Yours is very-"
"Oh, thank you. Keep telling them stuff." The Doctor turned and grabbed Emily's arm. "We need to go."
"What about the other pictures?" She said.
"Art can wait. This is life and death. We need to talk to Vincent Van Gogh."
[Alleyway]
When the Tardis materialised in a narrow alley, scaring a cat.
"Right." The Doctor told Emily and Amy. "So, here's the plan. We find Vincent and he leads us straight to the church and our nasty friend."
"Easy peasy."
"Well, no. I suspect nothing will be easy with Mister Van Gogh. Now, he'll probably be in the local cafe. Sort of orangey light, chairs and tables outside."
"You mean the Café Terrace at Night?" Emily asked.
Amy rolled her eyes and opened her exhibition guide book, muttering nerd under her breath.
"Like this?" She said pointing to a picture.
"That's the one."
This time, it was Emily's turn to roll her eyes at the pair. "Or indeed like that." She said, gesturing to the cafe directly infant of them.
"Yeah, exactly like that." The Doctor, albeit somewhat embarrassed.
"Good evening." He said, approaching a well dressed man just outside the cafe. "Does the name Vincent Van Gogh ring a bell?"
"Don't mention that man to me." He spat bitterly, walking briskly back inside.
Emily tried to ask a waitress. "Excuse me. Do you know Vincent Van Gogh?"
"Unfortunately."
"Unfortunately?" Amy asked.
"He's drunk, he's mad and he never pays his bills."
"Good painter, though, eh?" The Doctor said with a grin.
Emily rolled her eyes at him as the two women laugh at the very idea.
The Doctor frowned and sat down at a table, drumming his fingers as he thought.
"Come on! Come on!" The trio heard from within the cafe. "One painting for one drink. That's not a bad deal."
The bitter man from before leads his impecunious customer outside.
'It's Vincent Van Gogh.' The Doctor mouthed excitedly to Emily.
'I know!' She mouthed back with a matching grin.
"It wouldn't be a bad deal if the painting were any good." The man told the 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 interjected, faking a nonchalant air.
"What?"
"Well, if you like, I'll pay for the drink." He repeated. "Or I'll pay for the painting and you can use the money to pay for the drink."
"Exactly who are you?" Vincent demanded.
"Oh, we're new in town."
"Here we go." Emily muttered quietly to Amy.
"Well, in that case, you don't know three things. One, I pay for my own drinks, thank you." Vincent ignored everyone as they laughed. "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, your friends are cute, but you should keep your big nose out of other people's business." He said firmly, then continued his conversation with the manager. "Come on, just one more drink. I'll pay tomorrow."
"No."
"Or, on the other hand, slightly more compassionately, yes?" The painter asked, wringing his hat in his hands.
"Or, on the other hand, to protect my business from madmen, no."
"Or?" Vincent repeated hopefully.
"Oh look, just shut up, the pair of you." Amy said, coming between the two men. "I would like a bottle of wine, please, which I will then share with whomever I choose."
"That could be good." Vincent agreed instantly, almost flirtatiously.
"That's good by me." The manager agreed.
"Good." She said, walking confidently into cafe.
Maurice - the manager - gave Vincent his Self-portrait with Straw Hat back and followed Amy inside.
The Doctor and Emily exchanged a knowing look.
"Amy." They agreed.
[Cafe]
The four outsiders sat at a table inside the cafe, enveloped in warm like and tucked away from other customers.
"That accent of yours." Vincent said, speaking to Emily and Amy. "You two are from Holland like me?"
"Yes." The Doctor replied.
"No." Emily corrected.
"She means yes." He flashed her a cheeky grin. "So, start again. Hello, I'm the Doctor."
"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." He became distracted by Vincent's self portrait. "That's incredible, don't you think, Emily?"
"Absolutely. One of my favourites."
"One of my favourite whats?" Vincent asked accusingly. "You've never seen my work before."
"Ah yes. She meant one of her favourite paintings that she's ever seen, generally." Amy covered up.
"Then you can't have seen many paintings, then. I know it's terrible. It's the best I can do." He then stared at Emily and Amy, leaning forward slightly. "Your hair's orange."
"Yes. So's yours." Emily replied.
"Yes. It was more orange, but now is, of course, less."
The Doctor made a face and sighed heavily, not liking the almost flirty tone on the conversation.
"So. Er, Vincent, painted any churches recently?" He interrupted. "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."
"That is very good news."
Suddenly, an older woman came running in, screaming in terror and anguish.
"She's been murdered!" Another woman screamed. "Help me!"
"That, on the other hand, isn't quite such good news." The Doctor said getting up. "Come on, Ponds, Vincent!"
[Street]
"She's been ripped to shreds!" An onlooker exclaimed.
"Please, let me look." The Doctor said, pushing his way through the crowd. "I'm a doctor."
"Who is it?" One woman whispered.
"Oh no, no, no." Another sobbed.
"Is she dead?" A man asked.
"Away, all of you vultures." A lady screeched, shoving past people in her way. "This is my daughter. Giselle. What monster could have done this?" She swiped at the Doctor. "Get away from her!"
"Okay, okay." He said, moving away from the hysterical woman.
"Get that madman out of here!"
The crowd started throwing stones at Vincent, angrily yelling at him. The Doctor, Emily and Amy started getting pelted too.
"You bring this on us." Someone called. "Your madness! You!"
"He's to blame!"
Vincent backed away from the angry crowd and the Doctor pulled the two Ponds after him, shielding them from the hateful onslaught of stones and pebbles.
[Alley]
Vincent, Amy, Emily and the Doctor stood panting in an alley, having just run away from the angry crowd.
"Are you all right?" The Doctor asked Vincent.
"Yes, I'm used to it." The painter replied.
"Has anything like this murder happened here before?"
"Only a week ago. It's a terrible time."
"As I thought." The Doctor said. "As I thought. Come on, we'd better get you home."
"Where are you staying tonight?"
"Oh, you're very kind."
The two men and Amy started to walk off and Emily groaned.
"Why do we always have to be running? So much exercise." She complained, dragging her feet. "I hate you Doctor."
[Courtyard]
"Dark night." The Doctor commented nonchalantly. "Very starry."
"It's not much." Vincent replied. "I live on my own. But you should be okay for one night. One night."
"We're going to stay with him?" Emily whispered excitedly.
The Doctor smiled at her enthusiasm. "Until he paints that church."
"Watch out." Vincent called Amy. "That one's wet."
"What?" She said.
"The Bedroom in Arles." Emily whispered under her breath, already in complete awe.
"You impressed yet?" The Doctor asked her.
"I take it back." She said. "Doctor, I think I love you."
He tried not to focus too much on his pounding hearts and watched as she followed Vincent into his home.
"If it weren't so dark." Amy started mischievously. "I'd say you were blushing, Doctor."
"I don't know what you're talking about." He denied instantly.
"Mm-hm, sure you don't."
[Vincent's home]
"Sorry about all the clutter." Vincent apologised.
"Some clutter."
"I've come to accept the only person who's going to love my paintings is me." He said sadly.
"Wow." Amy said. "I mean, really. Wow."
"Yeah, I know it's a mess." Vincent misunderstood. "I'll have a proper clear out. I must, I really must."
The Doctor, Emily and Amy browsed the pictures around the room as if they were in a gallery.
"Coffee, anyone?"
"Not for me, actually." The Doctor said.
Vincent put the coffee pot down on a still life.
"You know, you should be careful with these." The Doctor told him. "They're precious."
"Precious to me. Not precious to anyone else."
"Every piece of art is precious, regardless of who it's precious to." Emily murmured, still looking at his drying paintings. She turned and smiled at him. "And they're precious to me."
"Well, you're very kind. And kindness is most welcome." Vincent said, smiling at her.
Which, of course, made the Doctor uncomfortable.
"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." He tried and failed at sounding nonchalant.
"Far from casual." The painter remarked. "It seems to me you never talk about anything else. He's a strange one."
"Okay, so, let's talk about you, then. What are you interested in?"
"Well, look around." He said obviously. "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 assured.
•|•
"It's colour." Vincent told the seated Doctor, some time later. "Colour that 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!"
The Doctor looked wearily at the coffee pot. "Maybe you've had enough coffee now. How about some nice calming tea? Let's get you a cup of chamomile or something, shall we? Amy. Where's Amy?"
Emily looked up, having not noticed her sister leave.
Suddenly, her stomach dropped violently and a scream sounded from outside.
"Amy!" Emily called, already running, the Doctor not far behind her.
"No, no, no!"
[Courtyard]
"Amy?" The Doctor called, crouching down next to her. "Amy? What happened?"
"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."
"It's okay." He reassured. "He's gone now and we're here."
Pain lanced behind Emily's eyes and her head snapped up, something behind Amy drawing her attention.
"No!" Vincent yelled, backing away. "No!"
"Take it easy. Take it easy!" The Doctor said, trying to calm the man down.
Vincent continued to back away from something only he could see.
"What's happening? What's he doing?"
"I don't know."
Emily stiffened as she felt a presence near them.
"Amy." She said lowly. "Don't move."
"What?"
She ignored her sister and watched as Vincent looked around and picked up a pitchfork.
"Oh, dear." The Doctor said.
"Run. Run!" Vincent yelled, waving around his pitchfork.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's not a bad idea. Amy, Emily, get back. He's having some kind of fit. I'll try to calm him down."
Vincent was now stabbing at the air.
"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.
A barrel was knocked over and the Doctor was sent flying.
"I can't see anything." Amy said. "What is it?"
"That is a good question. Let me help you."
The Doctor grabbed a pole and attempted to help the famous painter.
"You can see him, too?"
"Yes." He lied." Ish. Well, no. Not really."
He got sent flying again, and something growls.
"You couldn't see him?"
"No. No. Oi!"
The Doctor swings wildly while Vincent plunged his pitchfork into the invisible enemy.
Emily clutched her stomach in pain, not prepared to block it out. Wounded, she felt it leave. The Doctor however, continued to fight the air.
"He's gone."
"Oh, right. Yes. Of course."
"Em?" Amy asked her sister. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She gasped. "Just the stomach cramps."
[Vincent's home]
"Right. So he's invisible. What did he look like?" The Doctor questioned.
"I'll show you."
Vincent grabbed a brush and painted over a bunch of violets.
"Oh, no, no. No, no!" Emily said.
"What?"
"It's just er, that was quite a good." She mumbled. "Oh, no. On you go."
The trio waited patiently as Vincent produced a charcoal sketch of a thing with a wicked beak, crest and claws.
"Okay." The Doctor said. "Okay. Right. Amy, make Mister Van Gogh comfortable. Emily, don't let any invisible monsters in through the front door."
"But it could be outside, waiting."
"Well, 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." Emily said with a deadpan look.
"Oh right, yes, that. Don't worry. I'll be back before you can say where's he got to now?" He disappeared out the door and Emily sank heavily into a chair. Suddenly, he popped his head around the corner, scaring them all and making Emily glare at him. "Not that fast! But pretty fast. See you around."
[Tardis]
The Doctor burst into the Tardis and started hunting through chests.
"Right." He said to himself. "You in here somewhere? I can't apologise enough. I thought you were just a useless gadget. I thought you were just an embarrassing present from a dull godmother with two heads and bad breath. Twice. How wrong can a man be?"
He found a gizmo with a rear view mirror fastened to the top and plugs it into the console. Once it powered up, he stood in front of it and stuck his tongue out. The mirror lights up with Match Found Print Ready. It printed off a picture of William Hartnell, then the mirror changes to Patrick Troughton.
"Good. Okay, you're working. Now, see what you make of this." He said, holding up Vincent's sketch of the monster. "Who is that?"
Ding.
Match found print ready.
A macaw.
"No, I know it's not that. There are thousands of them and you can see them plain as day."
Polar bear.
"No. Definitely not. This is the problem with the impressionists." He complained to no one. "Not accurate enough. This would never happen with Gainsborough or one of those proper painters. Sorry, Vincent. You will just have to draw something better."
[Alleyway]
The Doctor left the Tardis wearing the gizmo on his chest, with the rear view mirror looking over his right shoulder. An image of the beast appeared in it.
"That's better, old girl. Time delay, but you always get it right in the end. Good. Let's find out who this is, then. Well, well, there you are."
The mirror said Krafayis.
Planet of origin uncertain.
Nomadic pack animals.
Strict dominance hierarchy.
Huge territories, several solar systems wide.
Preferred habitat: Planets with oxygen and nitrogen based atmospheres.
"Oh, you poor thing." He said. "You brutal, murderous, abandoned thing. I hope we meet again soon so I can take you home."
He looked in the mirror again and realised it was right behind him.
"Maybe not that soon."
[Village]
The Doctor ran and it chased him, only visible in the mirror. He tried scattering benches and other objects to slow it down, but it didn't work as well as he hoped it would.
"Take that, and that."
But, eventually it left him alone. The Doctor breathed a sighed of relief and looked round the corner.
"Never do that!" He said when he saw Amy. "You scared the living daylights out of me."
"Sorry, I got bored. As much as you and Em admire his command of colour and shape, it is hard to get fond of Vincent Van Gogh's snoring."
[Vincent's bedroom]
"Wake, wakey, rise and shine!" The Doctor said, ripping open the curtains. "Breakfast is served in the courtyard. Whoa! What a morning. Come on. And Amy's got a little surprise for you."
[Courtyard]
"I thought I'd brighten things up to thank you for saving me last night." She told him.
Vincent looked around in confusion at his Courtyard. There were a lot of sunflowers in a lot of pots.
"Ah."
"I thought you might like, you know, possibly to perhaps paint them or something? Might be a thought."
"Smooth." Emily whispered to the Doctor.
He smiled.
"Yes, well, they're not my favourite flower."
"You don't like sunflowers?"
"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." The Doctor interrupted. "But, moving on, there's something I need to show you."
[Vincent's home]
The Doctor laid out the printout from the gizmo on table. The two sisters and Vincent gathered around the table.
"That's him." The painter confirmed. "And the eyes, without mercy."
"This is a creature called the Krafayis." The Doctor explained. "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 said.
"Yes." The Doctor replied happily. "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?"
"Take my word for it. If you paint it, he will come."
"Okay. I'll get my things."
"In your own time. And I promise you, we'll be out of your hair by this time tomorrow."
Vincent nodded his head and went into the other room.
"This is risky."
"Riskier than normal?" Amy asked.
"Well, think about it. This is the middle of Vincent Van Gogh's greatest year of painting." Emily told her sister. "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 Muse D'Orsay will disappear. And it will be our fault."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her. "Well aren't you cheery."
"Shut up. I don't exactly want to be responsible for the death of one of the greatest artists of all time." She raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Or is that too much to ask?"
•|•
So, sorry for the delay. Had a bit of a writers block.
But luckily, I got out of it fairly quickly. What did you think? Was this chapter a yay or nay?
Christmas is coming up, I might do a double update then if I can.
Oh, and check out my other DW Book. It's only got 3 chapters, but I have big plans for it.
Enjoy the next chapter.
Peace ✌🏻