Shooting Star // Eternalian Chronicles Book 1

36) .Reid and The Destroyer.

(Edited)

.Vincent and the Doctor.

~Catherine Wood~

"Welcome to the Musee d'Orsay!" the Doctor announced as he took a step into the busy streets of Paris in the year 2011, present time. His arms were up in the air and he took in a deep breath of Paris air. I found it very hard not to laugh at him, and I could tell Reid felt the same. I took my brother's hand and led him from the TARDIS and towards the large musuem in front of us.

"We aren't there just yet," I called back to the man as we passed him. "I believe welcome to Paris would be more accurate." 

The Doctor rolled his eyes and trudged along behind us, leaving Amelia to bounce along happily and very excited. Amelia Pond was a huge fan of Vincent Van Gogh. She could name almost every painting, though not when it was painted (like Reid could). I could have sworn the two of them were bursting with excitement and talking to each other as though they might have exploded. I grinned at the pair of them, acting like little children.

"Are you feeling any better?" The Doctor asked, making me jump and pulling me from my thoughts.

 I turned to him and leaned my head on his shoulder. "Very. Thanks for doing this for me."

"I'd do anything to make you happy." 

I smiled at him.

"Hurry up!" Amelia called from in front of us. "We're never going to see anything if we don't get in there soon!" 

Laughing, the Doctor and I caught up with the pair of art maniacs, pulling open the front doors of the musuem and taking a look around at what was in the front hall.

"So what do you want to see first?" The Doctor wondered. 

I already knew the answer before they said it.

"The Van Gogh Gallery!" Reid and Amelia both called. So that's where we ended up, walking through the small room that held the few glorius paintings that they were able to find from Vincent Van Gogh's glory days. Well, not really glory days. The man had a rough time during his life.

"So this is one of the last paintings Van Gogh ever painted," a man said. He was the tour guide for the Van Gogh Gallery, standing around, answering questions when he could. He had a nice bow tie around his neck that made me trust him a little bit more. "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." 

I turned from the man, blocking out the rest of the words and faced my brother who was looking at a painting across the way that no one seemed to see except him. It was a beautiful painting of a young girl with blonde hair and striking blue eyes. The closer I got the more I thought it looked like-

"Have you seen this painting, Cate?" Reid asked once I had gotten close enough. 

I shook my head. "Never. What's it called? In your book, I mean."

"The Destroyer. Isn't that what the Daleks called you?" 

"That's me, isn't it?" I wondered, jaw almost hitting the floor. "The painting is me. But I haven't met Vincent Van Gogh!"

"Maybe you will," Reid suggested. "Maybe that's where we're going next. Maybe he has a problem we need to solve." 

I laughed. I actually laughed. There was no way in all of space in time that Vincent Van Gogh ... the Vincent Van Gogh wanted to paint a picture of me. Me of all people.