InsaneJournal

The day had been a roller coaster. More people had gone missing; a body found in the woods; and Martha Jones nowhere to be found. It was not hard to believe that the Doctor was a basket case - well, at least internally. Thus, the habitually hyperactive Doctor was eager to go look for supplies from the thrift store and petrol station with Shannon. He couldn't stay in one place - there just wasn't a chance of it. He had a basket on each arm, a can or two of this and that in one; and a couple extra blankets in the other. Shannon had warned that the floor was hard; so, the Doctor figured it would do him well to gather some padding.

Coming up through the door that had Shannon's note of occupancy on it, the Doctor hardly paid any attention. It was kind of strange, though, coming in to a place where he had felt formerly so unwelcome. Peeking within he looked left and right, half expecting to run in to Sam. Sam wasn't much taller than him - three inches, perhaps; yet, the Doctor found himself looking up for him.

Looking around he found a cleared spot and waited for Shannon to point which way they ought to actually be heading. This was her and Sam's place, wasn't it? Narrowing his eyes for a moment he took a few slow steps up Van Gogh's Starry Night - the canvas much bigger than it ought to be and the colors just a shade off. It was clearly a fake; but, it was almost surreal to see it there, strung up like a real piece of art. "Well look at that?" He said, pointing, "You know he painted this while in asylum," the Doctor quipped, straightening the frame just a bit. "Not a half bad fake, I'd say."

Letting his mind wander he started to think that Martha would have liked to have met Van Gogh. Letting his mind shift a bit he wondered what he'd have to do once they got out of there to convince her to travel with him one more time - just one more time to see Van Gogh. My, he was worried about her.