Amy Pond would never dream of stealing the TARDIS out from under the Doctor. Convincing River to borrow the TARDIS while the Doctor and Rory are out and take Amy on a little trip is another thing altogether.
The Doctor, after all, would insist on coming too. Interfering. But River just gives Amy an intense, curious look, and agrees to hop forward in the TARDIS while Amy pays her second visit to Auvers-sur-Oise, 1890. It's a sisterhood thing, Amy thinks, giving River a smile on her way out the door. Or maybe it's just that the Doctor has to at least pretend to be responsible with Time, and River doesn't bother.
It's only one little painting. How much can that matter, in the grand scheme of things? How much, that is, compared to what it will mean to Vincent and to her?
She comes prepared: a fresh canvas, to stop Vincent painting over any more masterpieces, and a large handful of period currency—much less than a portrait could possibly be worth to her, but far more, she thinks, than Vincent will ever be willing to accept. During the week she sits for him, it becomes a game between them, Amy hiding coins and notes around his rooms when Vincent isn't looking. Four of five, she finds back in her pockets again by the end of the day. She's willing to bet the remainder represents more money than he's had to his name in years.
And a week later, it's finished.
"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she breathes.
"Of course it is," he says, smiling his beautiful, crooked smile, "it's you."
"It's beautiful because it's yours."
"It's yours, now," he says, and hands her the portrait.
"Come with me," says Amy, looking at him, looking over her shoulder. "Come with us. I know the Doctor would love to see you again."
"I can't, Amy," he says. "I could never live with your husband. I would have to duel him to the death for your love."
She laughs. "I meant to invite you to my wedding, but it won't happen for a hundred and twenty years. Don't worry, I won't let you miss the most important part."
"What part is that?"
She stands up, and wraps her arms around his neck. "Kissing the bride," she says, with a flirtatious flutter of her lashes.
He blushes as red as his hair. "I couldn't..."
"I'll be terribly offended," she teases.
Blushing even redder, he gives her what he clearly intends to be a quick, decorous peck. But she brings her hands up to his cheeks, quickly, and holds him still, lips against hers. Only once she considers herself fully and properly kissed does she let him go.
"There," she says. And then an all-too-familiar sound is screeching just outside Vincent's door.
"Always right on time, River," says Amy, hugging Vincent tight. "I'll be back to see you," she says. "So you just remember that, and keep yourself well, all right?"
This time, she doesn't believe that'll work. She can't help saying it, anyway. "I don't need to say the same to you," says Vincent. "I feel sorry for the monster that meets you, Amy Pond."
She laughs, and glances out his door at the TARDIS. "I meet a lot of monsters," she says, looking back at Vincent, "but a lot of very nice people, too." She gives him one last smile, and then she's dashing for the blue box that's more home than any house, canvas in her hands. "Thank you so much for the painting!"
"Thank you for the visit," he answers. She wishes, as so often, that he didn't look so sad.
She stands in the blue doorway and waves, until the Vortex swirls through him like blending colors on his palette, and she can't see his face any more.
*
Rory stares, the ridiculous, stupid stare she loves so much.
"Is this..."
"Yes," she says, draping herself in his lap. "Happy Birthday."
"Amy," he says.
"Yes."
"This is a Van Gogh."
"Yes."
"Of you."
"Right again."
"How did you..."
"I had to kiss Vincent for it," she says.
He sighs. "Of course you did."
"Forgive me?"
"Only a kiss?"
"Only a kiss."
"Just the one?"
"Cross my heart."
He looks at her. "Oh, all right." He looks at the painting, and smiles his beautiful, crooked smile. "It's beautiful."
"Of course it is," she says, snuggling up against her husband. "It's me."
---
Requests: Mephistopheles Arkadian/Romana II, Ninth Doctor/Professor Yana, Romana I/Rodan
Amy Pond/Vincent van Gogh
The Doctor, after all, would insist on coming too. Interfering. But River just gives Amy an intense, curious look, and agrees to hop forward in the TARDIS while Amy pays her second visit to Auvers-sur-Oise, 1890. It's a sisterhood thing, Amy thinks, giving River a smile on her way out the door. Or maybe it's just that the Doctor has to at least pretend to be responsible with Time, and River doesn't bother.
It's only one little painting. How much can that matter, in the grand scheme of things? How much, that is, compared to what it will mean to Vincent and to her?
She comes prepared: a fresh canvas, to stop Vincent painting over any more masterpieces, and a large handful of period currency—much less than a portrait could possibly be worth to her, but far more, she thinks, than Vincent will ever be willing to accept. During the week she sits for him, it becomes a game between them, Amy hiding coins and notes around his rooms when Vincent isn't looking. Four of five, she finds back in her pockets again by the end of the day. She's willing to bet the remainder represents more money than he's had to his name in years.
And a week later, it's finished.
"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she breathes.
"Of course it is," he says, smiling his beautiful, crooked smile, "it's you."
"It's beautiful because it's yours."
"It's yours, now," he says, and hands her the portrait.
"Come with me," says Amy, looking at him, looking over her shoulder. "Come with us. I know the Doctor would love to see you again."
"I can't, Amy," he says. "I could never live with your husband. I would have to duel him to the death for your love."
She laughs. "I meant to invite you to my wedding, but it won't happen for a hundred and twenty years. Don't worry, I won't let you miss the most important part."
"What part is that?"
She stands up, and wraps her arms around his neck. "Kissing the bride," she says, with a flirtatious flutter of her lashes.
He blushes as red as his hair. "I couldn't..."
"I'll be terribly offended," she teases.
Blushing even redder, he gives her what he clearly intends to be a quick, decorous peck. But she brings her hands up to his cheeks, quickly, and holds him still, lips against hers. Only once she considers herself fully and properly kissed does she let him go.
"There," she says. And then an all-too-familiar sound is screeching just outside Vincent's door.
"Always right on time, River," says Amy, hugging Vincent tight. "I'll be back to see you," she says. "So you just remember that, and keep yourself well, all right?"
This time, she doesn't believe that'll work. She can't help saying it, anyway. "I don't need to say the same to you," says Vincent. "I feel sorry for the monster that meets you, Amy Pond."
She laughs, and glances out his door at the TARDIS. "I meet a lot of monsters," she says, looking back at Vincent, "but a lot of very nice people, too." She gives him one last smile, and then she's dashing for the blue box that's more home than any house, canvas in her hands. "Thank you so much for the painting!"
"Thank you for the visit," he answers. She wishes, as so often, that he didn't look so sad.
She stands in the blue doorway and waves, until the Vortex swirls through him like blending colors on his palette, and she can't see his face any more.
*
Rory stares, the ridiculous, stupid stare she loves so much.
"Is this..."
"Yes," she says, draping herself in his lap. "Happy Birthday."
"Amy," he says.
"Yes."
"This is a Van Gogh."
"Yes."
"Of you."
"Right again."
"How did you..."
"I had to kiss Vincent for it," she says.
He sighs. "Of course you did."
"Forgive me?"
"Only a kiss?"
"Only a kiss."
"Just the one?"
"Cross my heart."
He looks at her. "Oh, all right." He looks at the painting, and smiles his beautiful, crooked smile. "It's beautiful."
"Of course it is," she says, snuggling up against her husband. "It's me."
---
Requests: Mephistopheles Arkadian/Romana II, Ninth Doctor/Professor Yana, Romana I/Rodan