The Time Travelers Wife

The Death of Van Gogh

"So how have you all been?" Van Gogh asked placing his newest painting down on his dining room table. He whipped his hands of imaginary dust. Anne-Marie and the Doctor exchanged glances.

"We're good." Anne-Marie replied with a shrug. "How have you been my favorite painter." Anne-Marie said brightly sitting down at his table with a smile.

"Oh I'm your favorite painter eh?" Van Gogh asked with a small laugh.

"You seem good." the Doctor commented. Anne-Marie glanced at him. He was standing by the doorway with his hands in his pockets, strands of his hair falling into his face. She gave him this look that said don't provoke him. The Doctor made a face back.

"I have been good." Van Gogh replied.

"Have you seen any of your.." the Doctor clears his throat. "Friends.. Lately?" he asked walking towards the painter. Van Gogh shrugged dropping his hands to his sides.

"No. Not since i last saw you. Very peculiar actually. Before they were a constant present and now.." Van Gogh said his voice trailing off.

"Well.. That's good." Anne-Marie said still smiling.

"Good indeed." Van Gogh replied happily. "Will you all be staying then?" Van Gogh asked walking off to the small kitchen portion of his small living quarters.

"Uhh no. We'll stay in the Tardis." Anne-Marie replied. "Wouldn't want to intrude." she said watching him put on a pot of tea.

"Wouldn't be an intrusion at all." Van Gogh replied looking at her with a smile of his face.

"No, no it's fine. This is small enough." Anne-Marie said holding her hands out palms up turning her upper half and looking around the room.

"But it's a grand place." Van Gogh said Anne-Marie smiled.

"See." she said walking back toward the Doctor a little. "Perfectly fine." she said nudging his arm. "You need not worry." she said with a smile watching the painter move about his humble abode. The Doctor was not convinced. If he knew one thing. One thing about the Acnophere. It was that they were persistent. Much like the Doctor himself. They didn't give up easily. No. Never this easily. Which didn't mean much good for the Doctor, Anne-Marie and Van Gogh.

"Do you have a room in the Tardis?" the Doctor asked quietly turning toward her arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh.. Well i suppose i don't in this one." Anne-Marie replied with a small frown furrowing her eyebrows.

"Never you mind. I can whip one up. Or knowing her she already has it ready." the Doctor replied with a smile. Anne-Marie smiled back up at him.

"Anyone for a pot of tea?" Van Gogh asks getting out the cups.

"Tea sounds lovely." Anne-Marie replied happily the Doctor nodded still thinking. If it was going to happen. It will happen tomorrow. Either the world will end or Van Gogh will die. Anne-Marie and Van Gogh chatted aimlessly about something. The Doctor felt himself tune it out though he knew he shouldn't. He listened to the beating of his hearts. One would beat and then the other. Never at the same time. His breathing was shallow, as it often was when he had a lot on his mind. The Doctor tapped his chin and stared at the floorboards of Van Gogh's house. They were old and weathered. Rubbed smooth by the soles of shoes. "Doctor." a voice called out. Just like that he was snapped out of his trance. He fixated a smile on his face and met Anne-Marie's eyes.

"Yes my dear?" he replied. Anne-Marie pursed her lips. She knew that look on his face couldn't mean anything good for she had seen it many times on her travels with the Doctor.