Author's Note: Sorry that it's been so long since I've last posted with this fan-fic, but I've been keeping up with another fan-fic I was doing, then there was the new series, and then school and such...but I'm ready to move on. I've given up my previous ideas, yes, now I think I'll do more of an overview going into the third series, this new chapter will deal heavily with Smith and Jones and the period just before he winds up at the Royal Hope Hospital. I'm going to remain true to the Doctor's viewpoint, though, especially in those key moments for him to consider how he feels about Martha Jones...it is a bit angsty at the middle, yes, but that was a pretty dramatic episode for him, nearly getting killed. Anyway, I think I'll have a little more fun with The Shakespeare Code and Gridlock, with sonnets and cars and all of that...please read and review!

Storms of the Heart and Mind

The Doctor hummed to himself as he stood at the controls, smiling at the thought of the concert that he had attended not too long ago, without any delay as the TARDIS had taken him directly to the right time period and location…sometimes it gave him a break. He had wandered round the place at first, trying to find a suitable entrance, then had to make his way through the crowd, trying not to be too conspicuous even as he sought the best place to fully enjoy this experience. Luckily, the people around the Doctor had been too concerned with their own affairs to notice much of his presence or appearance, he had not wanted to have to explain Converses to them, and then the star performer had appeared, fully distracting everyone as they politely clapped.

The musician had bowed his head, smiling towards the honored audience members, and then he had carefully settled himself upon his bench as he had been taught, even though his feet were barely long enough to reach the floor. The Doctor had relaxed in that grand hall, listening to the young yet talented Wolfgang, also to be known as 'Amadeus' in Italy, Mozart play the pinafore for these admiring courtiers and for royalty. Afterwards, the Doctor had stepped outside the palace and had lifted his head, it was early evening and the stars were out, and the moon, and he could smell the royal gardens with their flowers, so fragile and yet so beautiful…he forgot about the music.

He had to get away from here, from Earth, throughout all of time.

He had quickly left, running past startled courtiers as he slipped into another room, excusing himself to a secluded couple, and stepped into his TARDIS, then dematerialized without worrying about anyone seeing him. The Doctor had continued on his way, traipsing through the purple fields of Litalayo with a dogged determination before he returned to his ship, jammed the controls, and wound up on the icy moon of Thaman, helping a space crew there deal with some monster, not that it had really mattered to him at that point. Again and again he set new coordinates, again and again he had stepped out, looked around, and then just as quickly returned back to the TARDIS, for he could not linger long anywhere, he could not stop to take a breath and look up at the stars, or the sky, he would not allow himself to feel sunlight or notice when it was raining.

Once more, the Doctor pulled back on the lever and the time rotor pulsated as the TARDIS hurtled through space again, he gripped onto the control panel and held on tightly, glancing up once or twice at the screens for something, any sign of anything interesting out there in the universe, any problem or any strange irregularity that he might be able to investigate. He was aimless, for he had gone to so many planets throughout so many eons in just the passage of a few weeks for him, on a whim or on a decision, that now he could not think of what to do next.

The Doctor recalled that once he had told another young girl, when she was leaving, to think of him when she was living her days in a neat pattern, to think about the homeless traveler in his old police, his days like crazy paving. No, there was no pattern for him in these days, not when time was so slow and when it always seemed that he either wasted time or was too busy with something else, not when he dreaded his past and was uncertain about his future.

Yet now…there was a blip on the screen, the indication of a strange reading for this part of the universe, he brought up the details on the detection of…plasma coils, those were quite advanced, and apparently they were somewhere on…the Doctor sighed. Earth. Eastern hemisphere. Northern Europe. Britain. London. His head leaned forward and he groaned, but then after a moment, he lifted his head again, staring up at the column glowing before him.

"Well, I don't know what to say…I didn't want to go back, you know that, right? Of course you do, I've been talking to you so much in the silence during these trips between destinations that…this probably doesn't mean anything. Those plasma coils, maybe they're not important enough to warrant my attention, did you ever think about that? Perhaps I'll just turn the knob, without looking, set a course for someplace I don't even know and just leave the Earth behind me."

The lights dimmed and then flashed and flared, glaring in the brightness that now uncovered all of the corners, there were no more shadows for the Doctor now as he grimaced, squinting and turning his head away. He listened to the pulse of his TARDIS, listened to the throbbing of its instrumentation, and ached as he realized that it hurt as much as he did, not much of a surprise when he had taken out his pain on it with all of this constant traveling. Still, it wanted him to go back to Earth, go back to Britain and London, back to old haunts and old storms of the heart and mind, to analyze the anonymous anomaly and perhaps stop another threat to the universe…and what better place for such threats than the natural stomping grounds of those humans, good old Earth?

The Doctor shook his head, knowing that his thoughts were just too bitter, not all humans were bad, not when there were some like Mozart, Dickens, Sarah Jane Smith, Jamie, Leonardo da Vinci, and Rose…he blinked and turned back to face the glowing column.

"I'll go back, I'll return to my work, but what I wish is that I might know that…it would make a difference, that someone would be affected, would remember me. That would be my peace for now, I suppose I can expect little more."

The Doctor said nothing else to his TARDIS as it set off and then, when it had landed, he changed his clothes, thinking that what he needed was something different, a different color for a new perspective, perhaps some sort of a fresh start…this was Earth, yes, but an Earth without Rose. He stepped outside and glanced around, then turned to gaze up at the façade of the tall building before him…he finally spotted a sign, Royal Hope Hospital.

The Doctor shrugged and resignedly smiled. "Looks like I'm going to be a patient."

A little later on, the Doctor was running down the hospital corridor, leaving Miss. Martha Jones behind him, leaving her stunned…he was slightly stunned himself, but it had been necessary, he had needed to put the Judoon off of his trail, just for a little while. She would not be harmed, no, not if she kept her head and he knew that she was a rational woman, she had coped well enough with ending up on the moon and she had reasoned out what was happening.

The Doctor was certain that Martha was skeptical about him and his antics while…he was skeptical as well, yes, especially when he had not even wanted to be here in the first place, in this position, it felt too soon for him. Then again, he could not stand the silence in the TARDIS anymore, not when he always arrived in a new place without any aid, not when he could not help recalling Donna's words, that he needed to find someone to stop him…no, maybe he had not really found that someone.

Here he was, running off into certain danger, and Martha had been too stunned to try and stop him and he had not wanted her to stop him…the Doctor was going to find Florence Finnegan, the Plasmavore, and do whatever was necessary to bring her into the custody of the Judoons. He could feel the oxygen draining away, he could feel the vacuum of space pressing against the force field, he was light-headed and didn't know what to think anymore, didn't know what to hope for as he located her in the MRI and, hamming it up as a clueless human, managed to find out what destruction she planned to wrought.

At that point, the Doctor had let slip the news that the Judoon were now intent on secondary scans, as naively as he could manage, and when Florence approached him with that straw of hers…he grimaced as it was jammed into his neck and then his eyes glazed over as she began to suck. What was oxygen loss? No, that was nothing compared to this slow drain, excruciating as he blanked out...

Martha…she had far surpassed the Doctor's expectations, yes, she had gone after him and he owed his life to her…she had kept her head and had done what was necessary so that the Judoon apprehended the Plasmavore, then had done what her training had readied her for, to save a life even when her dedication had taken so much out of her. After he had unplugged the MRI, the Doctor had returned to her, lifting her up into his arms as he thought how fragile she was, without the sparkle in her eyes, yet how beguiling she was in her vulnerability…as he had carried her to the window, with the Judoon lifting off, he even forgot the hopelessness for a moment with the scent of her perfume.

The Doctor smiled as he stood. "Look, Martha. It's raining on the moon."

The Doctor left her afterwards, yes, but he had been drawn back…he had stood at the mouth of the alleyway, seeing her family argue, and then slipped away when she noticed him, trusting that she would follow. Martha had come and he had wanted to impress her, slipping back into time to meet her, to smile at her expression of surprise before he returned triumphantly, unfazed by his disarray, not when he could see her face again and her astonishment at the final realization…he could return to her again and again, he knew, he would never grow tired with her face and her eyes and her smile. They had stepped back into the TARDIS, together, it was not so silent and it was certainly brighter, but he didn't mind, the shadows were gone for now and as the Doctor reached across to shake the hand of Martha Jones, he knew that he had made a connection…she would never replace Rose, yes, but at least one trip with her would make him feel better.