Fight For Freedom |4| The Ascension

Chapter Twenty: The Pandorica Opens

France, 1890.

A young woman stood in the rain outside a modest house in the middle of the village, looking at the dimly lit window from which Vincent Van Gogh's agonised cries were emanating. Passers-by kept to the other side of the street, unnerved by the way her skin and blonde hair seemed to glow golden in the darkness of the night, repelling the rain. She ignored them, opting instead to listen to the voices from inside the house.

"Vincent, can you hear me?" Dr Gachet tried, sounding worried. "Please!"

Madame Vernet was silhouetted at the window, cursing her tenant. "It's not enough he goes drinking all round the town. Now the whole neighbourhood has to listen to his screaming."

"He's very ill, Madame Vernet," Dr Gachet chastised.

The woman turned away from the window, gesturing to something out of view. "Look at this - even worse than his usual rubbish. I mean, what's it supposed to be?"

As Vincent continued to wail and his two acquaintances stared at his newest painting in puzzlement, the glowing woman shook out her wings and turned away from the house, her eyes flashing golden as she faded out of sight.

***

Cabinet War Rooms, London, 1941.

Professor Edwin Bracewell hurried along the corridors to the Prime Minister's office, carrying the painting under one arm. "It was found behind the wall, in an attic in France," he explained, handing it over. "It's genuine. It's a Van Gogh."

Winston Churchill frowned. "Why bring it to me?"

"Because it's obviously a message, and you can see who it's for," Bracewell pointed out.

Churchill frowned. "Can't say I understand it."

Bracewell raised his eyebrows, not seeing the girl behind him staring at the painting with wide eyes. "You're not supposed to understand it, Prime Minister. You're supposed to deliver it."

***

Stormcage Containment Facility, 5145.

A young guard headed over to the phone on the wall as it rang, answering it. "Cell four two six." He frowned. "The Doctor? Do you mean Dr Song?"

River's head snapped up, her eyes widening, and jumped up to reach her hand through the bars of her cell. "Give me that. Seriously, just give it to me. I'm entitled to phone calls." The guard hesitated but brought the phone over. River turned away to speak. "Doctor?"

"No, and neither are you," Churchill responded, disgruntled. "Where is he?"

"You're phoning the Time Vortex. It doesn't always work," River explained. "But the TARDIS is smart. She's rerouted the call. Talk quickly. This connection will last less than a minute." She listened carefully.

"Dr Song," the guard said firmly, seeing her put on some lip balm. "Are you finished with that?"

River turned back around, hanging up, only to see a few words shining in golden in the air behind the man, reading 'you know what to do'. She smiled. "You're new here, aren't you?"

"First day," the guard nodded.

"Then I'm very sorry," she apologised, before pulling him to her and kissing him.

***

Five minutes later, a swarm of armed guards rushed to the cell, the alarms blaring. The guard was inside, gun aimed.

"Stay exactly where you are," his superior ordered.

"She had the lipstick," the first guard reported. "The hallucinogenic lipstick. She tried to use it on me. Your tricks don't work in here, Dr Song."