A/N: This is a short story I wrote for my Paris study tour final project. I figured it'd be more fun than writing a boring ol' essay ;) Prompt was "What is your Paris?"

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or the Eleventh Doctor. Just Carolyn, who is me, so...I own myself?

Carolyn leaned against a wall, eyes half closed and mind miles away. Around her, voices chattered and droned in various languages: French, Spanish, Chinese…and even what sounded, to her, like Russian. She lamented her decision to cram so much into her bag; her shoulder felt as if it would simply give out at any moment. In her mind's eye, she saw herself standing forlornly in front of Louis XIV's sleeping quarters as her arm separated from her body with a sickening crunch.

She sighed quietly and with some effort, willed herself into a slouched standing position. Versailles was beautiful, but she could really do with some Advil for her headache – not to mention her aching feet and shoulder. If I'd known I'd be doing this much walking in Paris, she mused, I would've gotten in shape beforehand.

For the past week, Carolyn and a group of students from BSC (BSU, she mentally corrected herself) had been in Paris for a film-themed study tour. Although she had no real interest in seeing Paris, Carolyn had signed up; it was three credits towards her major and one less class to take in the spring. And so they had already traversed all over Paris – museums, restaurants, bus stops, train stops, and the occasional crepe stand. Today, they were in the Palace of Versailles, home to Louis XIV and Marie Antoinette. It was beautiful, but way too much for Carolyn's taste. She read the English translation on a sign next to the huge, ornate bed. Apparently, when Louis XIV would wake up every morning, it was called the "rising ceremonies" and every servant had to be present! She snorted a little. How incredibly pompous. If she woke up and found dozens of people standing in her room staring at her, she'd call the police.

Finally, she and the other girls in their little group (Jill, Sarah, Steph, and Min – she didn't want to forget their names) finished touring the palace and walked outside to the gardens. Had they been in bloom, they would've been even more beautiful. Carolyn shot the eternally gray sky a withering look. Did it have to rain nearly every single day? She glared upwards for another moment, then sighed and leaned against the stone barrier, staring at the wide pools of water surrounded by trees.

The other girls had wandered away a bit, and Carolyn was left with a quiet little corner in which to mourn the loss of the sun. It was, therefore, a surprise when a voice behind her said, "Have you had an argument with the sky?"

Carolyn jumped a little and turned to the source of the sound. Standing a little ways behind her, smiling pleasantly, was a man in a tweed suit. His dark hair was floppy and almost covered his eyes; his hands were in his pants pockets (pants that were, she noticed, held up with suspenders). But the red bow tie at his neck was what had immediately caught her attention. He looked to be in his late twenties; what on Earth was he doing with such an…an…old-man type thing?

"Just annoyed it's been raining so much," she answered. The man gave an "ah" of understanding and walked up to join her at the barrier. "Well, it certainly can't be sunny every day, you know," he reasoned.

"Yes, but we've been here a week now and it's been sunny for seven minutes."

"Seven?"

"We timed it."

"Ah," the man said again. The two of them turned and stared out at the gardens for a few moments. Then, as the man studied the bare trees in the distance, Carolyn studied his profile. He looked familiar, but at the same time she was certain she'd never seen him before in her life.

"I'm Carolyn." Her voice seemed to startle him this time as his concentration was broken. His gaze went to her face and he seemed to be struggling with his thoughts. After a moment he replied, "Dr. Mott, uh…Will Mott."

"Will, huh?" She kept an eye on Jill and the others, not wanting to lose them. "You're traveling too light to be a tourist. Do you live here?"

Will shook his head. "I'm just passing through. I've seen it before. Lovely city."

"Yeah, it's nice," Carolyn replied halfheartedly. London would've been nicer though, she thought.

Will seemed to hear her unspoken grumble. "Not everyone's cup of tea, I guess. What do you like about it?"

Carolyn started a rambling generic response. "Well, it's full of history, you know, the Arc de Triomphe and all that. Plus the Louvre, and the Seine is beautiful—"

"No, no!" Will held up a finger and Carolyn stopped short. He was smiling again. "I already know all that. My question is…what do you-" he punctuated this by tapping her nose with his finger – "like about it? What is your Paris?"

Carolyn considered the question. My Paris? she wondered. Then, before she could stop herself, she replied, "Montmartre." A swelling feeling of happiness filled her as she recalled exploring those cobblestone streets the first day after they'd landed. "It's just beautiful. The narrow streets, the village feel, the pure, raw, creativity that seems to float through the very air…I love it." She sighed blissfully. Will leaned back against the barrier with an encouraging smile and waved at her to continue. She took a deep breath.

"It's like you see in old movies. Not the busy Paris full of tourists and crazy drivers trying to kill you, but the quiet, quaint Paris. That's what I love. You know that movie Amelie? The café that the main character works at is in Montmartre. Right at the corner of Rue Lepic and Rue Cauchois. I love that movie, so I was giddy when we were standing in front of it. At some point, I want to go back and eat crème brulee there.

"And the atmosphere is just…I'm not really an artsy person, but I love the artsy atmosphere. We walked into a square and there were people painting in the rain, like…real Paris street painters! Oh, and the Sacre-Coeur; it's absolutely gorgeous. The view of the city was just breathtaking and the long hike to the top was worth it. I mean, you could see everything!" Carolyn waved her arms around for emphasis. "Then, on the way down, we were practically attacked by gypsies! Definitely not something that happens in the States, you know? Scary, but kind of exciting at the same time. I'd read about them ahead of time, so I knew what to expect. Essentially harmless, just aggressive.

"It's like…stuck in time, almost. All these shops with hand-made clothes and jewelry, and the little cafes on every corner. It's just…just…it's wonderful," Carolyn finally finished with a small laugh of happiness.

Will stood up straight, clapping and laughing. "Well done, well done! That was an excellent answer, really fantastic. "

Carolyn grinned and took a little bow. "Merci, monsieur!"

Will hopped down the steps separating them, a thoughtful look on his face. When he reached Carolyn, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Tell me, miss Carolyn…do you happen to like the works of one Vincent Van Gogh?"

Her face lit up. "Oh, I love him! He's about the only artist I actually like."

"…How about we go see him?"

Carolyn got excited. "Oh, like a museum? Sounds great!"

"Not a museum." Will's face was serious now, though his eyes were sparkling with a sort of mischief. "No, that's too boring. I meant go see the man himself. You see that funny box over there?" Will pointed at a tall blue box sitting innocently in a corner near the edge of the palace. (How did I not notice that before? Carolyn thought.) "It's a time machine. So: would you like to go see Vincent Van Gogh in days of Paris past?"

Carolyn's excitement had slowly dissolved into confusion. A time machine? Nonsense. And yet…She looked hard at Will, studying his face. He doesn't seem the crazy type. Still…

She casually glanced back at her little group of friends, who were still in sight. If anything happens, I can always scream. She looked back at Will, a little wary. "I'll go look at your box, but I'm not promising anything. No funny business, all right?" She glared at him threateningly, and he seemed to shrink away a little.

"Bien sûr, mademoiselle," he replied. The two of them strode over to the blue box, which stood about ten feet tall. Will pulled a key from his pocket and placed it in the Yale lock on the door, then turned to Carolyn, his face serious again. "1887. Vincent Van Gogh is residing in an apartment in Montmartre with his brother, Theo. We can go watch him paint the Boulevard de Clichy and be back in time for you to rejoin your friends. What do you say?"

Carolyn was careful to not let one trace of hope show on her face. "Open the door."

Will smiled, then turned the key with a click and pushed the door inwards. Carolyn somewhat nervously leaned forward to look inside…

It was bigger on the inside. Much, much bigger. A central console dominated the impossibly huge interior, bathed in a warm golden glow and full of various hums, beeps and whirrs. Carolyn's eyes widened and she thought her head would burst with excitement. She whirled back to Will, her eyes bright. "Yes!"

Will's face split into a wide smile. "Oh, excellent!" He ran into the time machine, hopping around the console and adjusting various knobs and levers. Carolyn followed, her sneakers squeaking on the metal grates covering the floor. "Now, there are three rules when you're traveling with me. Rule one: don't wander off." He snapped his fingers and the door shut itself. "Rule two: don't ask stupid questions." He strode around the console, put his hand on a lever, and grinned at Carolyn, who grinned right back. He pulled the lever and the whole place started shaking.

"Rule three: call me the Doctor."

One final note: please let me know if the title of this is correct; it is meant to be "The Doctor and the Student" in French. I used Google Translate as I don't speak the language.