"Right. Okay. Here's the plan. Amy? Rory?" Not Rory. Vincent. Stupid mistake. Behind a door, the Doctor wonders if the creature -- the unstoppably brutal, unthinking, terrible monster -- might not just want a little chat. "I... Know that no one's talked to you for a pretty long stretch, but please, listen. I also don't belong on this planet. I also am alone. If you trust me, I'm sure we can come to some kind of, you know, understanding." Much more running around, and then they are in the room with it. But it's not coming for them, it's feeling with its snout along the wall. It is blind.
The Doctor's embarrassed: "I'm growing old. Why does it attack, but never eat its victims? And why was it abandoned by its pack and left here to die? Why is it feeling its way helplessly around the walls of the room? That explains why it has such perfect hearing!" It attacks some more, and there's much running around, and then Vincent van Gogh -- tortured by something only he could see, hounded mercilessly by it for no reason at all, unlucky Vincent whose special and secret sight confer on him vast responsibilities and even vaster sorrows -- kills that invisible monster with an artist's easel.
Not judging. Just saying.
"He wasn't without mercy at all," Vincent says, suddenly mourning the beast. "He was without sight. I didn't mean that to happen. I only meant to wound it, I never meant to..." The beast speaks, as it dies -- I'm afraid. I'm afraid. -- and Vincent nods, mourning for the monster. "Like humans, who lash out when they're frightened. Like the villagers who scream at me. Like the children who throw stones at me." Everybody suddenly feels sorry for the creature, nobody questions the fact that apparently the iPerseus was incorrect, and the Doctor mourns as well: "Sometimes... Winning is no fun at all."
The three of them lay out, under the starry night, and Vincent reaches for their hands. Somehow, some magical thing tonight, he shows them what he sees: The way he sees the beautiful world: "Look at the sky. It's not dark and black and without character. The black is in fact deep blue. And over there, lighter blue. And blowing through the blueness and the blackness, the wind swirling through the air and then, shining, burning, bursting through... The stars! Can you see how they roar their light? Everywhere we look, the complex magic of nature blazes before our eyes." They see it. They are strong, the three of them, and brave.