It's Just a Scratch
by
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx

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Thanksies to izzfrogger, rockchick900, Cute Gallifreyan, Emela, JForward and Tai Greywing!

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4.

Martha's scream was deafening.

Jumping six feet into the air, his hand slamming painfully hard against the console as it twitched in reaction, the Doctor abandoned his research and turned on his heel, feeling another wave of dizziness threaten to engulf him before he could push it away.

In a heartbeat he was at her side, crouching down beside her thrashing form, eyes wide with unconditional concern and just the tiniest hint of hunger.

But he quelled it as his worry increased.

'Dreaming,' he realised, reaching out for her hand and squeezing it softly. With a small sigh, he patted her arm.

"Martha? Wake up," he said, watching in mild horror as her head collided rather forcefully with the door behind her. "Come on, it's just a dream! Wake up!"

He shook her shoulder a little, wondering vaguely how many more times they were going to find themselves in this position.

Regrettably though, his contact appeared to accomplish little more than to terrify her even further.

"No! Get off!" she yelled, attempting to yank away from his grip and consequently sliding sideways, landing mere inches from the edge of the stairway, seconds away from falling onto the lower floor of the TARDIS. "Don't! Please don't!"

Sighing heavily but resigned to the worst, the Doctor shook his head a fraction and released his grip, instead reaching out for her neck and pinching it slightly between his thumb and forefinger, immensely relieved by her gasp of pain and the abruptness with which she returned to reality.

Only to really fall from the steps this time.

"Oh Hell," he muttered, jumping without thought over the railing and landing catlike beside her groaning, crumpled form. "Are you alright?" he asked, staring straight at her with compassionate worry.

Martha groaned again and raised her head, eyes unfocussed, lips parted and a small cut blossoming just above her left eye.

After a moment's hesitation, she half-nodded, spotting the Doctor's look of genuine anxiety and feeling relief wash over her. Sweet, shameless, blessed relief.

'It was only a dream!' she thought, restraining a laugh of delight with great difficulty. 'He's not going to kill me!'

But her respite was short lived as she spotted the tumult of emotions raging silent wars within his gleaming, ruby-red eyes.

'Okay … so he's not going to kill me yet,' she amended, blinking rapidly and dropping her gaze from his, gingerly rolling onto her side and attempting to stand again.

She made it to her knees, felt dizziness attack her senses, and frowned, placing a hand to her head before stumbling resolutely to her feet.

The Doctor frowned too, but said nothing.

Instead, he followed her example and dragged himself to his feet, standing before her and staring directly at her.

Unable to ignore his intense glare, she sighed and turned to him, feeling uneasy as the onslaught of emotion that burned within his stare bit right into her very soul.

His eyes wavered after a moment, lingering instead on the cut above her eye, suddenly fascinated by it.

"That er … that needs … cleaning," he managed, furious with himself when the creepy vampire voice escaped his lips, rather than the normal 'Doctorish' tone he so desperately preferred.

"It's fine," she replied, wiping at it vaguely before smiling in reassurance, her eyes lingering a little on the small smear of red that clung to her finger as she lowered her hand again. "I'll live." She glanced sideways at the console and frowned. "The rotor's stopped moving. Have we landed somewhere?"

The Doctor half-nodded.

"Planet called Minuisa," he croaked out, wincing as Martha's breath hitched. She stood her ground though … thank God …"Middle of the night. Best time to be a vampire," he said jovially, forcing a small laugh.

It didn't linger very long though. For his eyes were captivated again by the small cut above her eye.

Raising a tentative hand towards it before he could stop himself, Martha flinched and recoiled in horror, suddenly all too reminded of his evil, vampire counterpart.

"No," she murmured, her terror snapping the Doctor out of his trance-like movements just in time for him to catch himself and draw back his hand.

"Sorry," he whispered roughly, clearing his throat and turning away.

Martha sighed, tears springing into her eyes. With an angry swipe at them, she forced them back.

"Have you … found out how to change you back yet?" she asked thickly, turning away and staring at the monitor on the console through misted eyes.

The Doctor smiled - satisfied Martha was … almost … alright again - and stumbled weakly back over to the console, staring carefully at the monitor despite his swimming vision. His vision wasn't 'pink', anymore. It was red. Completely and utterly scarlet...

"Maybe," he replied cryptically, cringing at the freakish tones but unsurprised when he suddenly felt rather than saw Martha standing feet behind him, obviously furious with herself for submitting.

"If I can make up the cure, I should be right as rain."

Martha sighed with relief.

"No need for Vampire hunting, then?" she verified, counting her blessings.

The Doctor shook his head, an unstable hand flying to his temples after a moment and a grimace of pain illuminating his pasty features before he could disguise it.

Martha shivered.

"Nope," he murmured softly, hitting a button and grinning as a soft buzzing sound erupted from somewhere just below the monitor. Martha watched in fascination as the alien equivalent of a laser printer slowly began ticking its way into life, a thin sheet of paper beginning to poke out from the slot.

Much to the Doctor's relief, his voice seemed almost normal for the first time in what had to be hours. Perhaps he was getting the hang of it. Taking advantage, he thought it best to fill her in as best he could before he became Mystic Meg yet again.

With a small smile, he stared directly at her.

"Besides, if it were that simple I'd have changed back already."

Martha's relief tripled ten fold, and she smiled the first true smile she'd felt grace her features in a long while. She'd never been so happy in all their time together to hear him speaking to her in that rich, Londoner's accent of his, the cheeky tint behind his words sounding like music to her ears.

"I've just destroyed their entire planet, so Azrael's been dealt with already. I was kind of hoping I might have been okay after killing him, but because it was a scratch and not a bite, destroying the vampire who converted me alone won't cut it."

"And … Azrael was the creepy leader vampire?" Martha asked, feeling her pulse rate dropping slightly as she began to regain control over her emotions, allowing the knowledge that the Doctor could fix this to wash over her fears about his current condition. "He was the one who scratched you?"

"Yep."

Martha nodded vaguely, watching with fascination as the small strip of paper finally shot out towards his hand, containing, she quickly realised, a miniature copy of the symbols on the screen

"Antidote?" she asked, smiling.

"Antidote," he agreed, skimming through it quickly before turning to her. "Problem is, I don't know how much longer I can fight it."

Martha's blood ran cold.

"Fight what?" she whispered fearfully.

Though she already knew.

"The hunger," he replied simply, eyes twinkling as he yet again contemplated the tiny bleeding cut above her eye.

Sensing his inner turmoil, Martha grabbed for the paper and turned away, clueless as to what the symbols meant and yet pretending to read them anyway.

"Instructions on how to make it, I presume," she stated, more to keep herself sane by asking questions than because she was genuinely interested.

He didn't reply.

And Martha was suddenly frightfully aware that the Doctor was standing uncomfortably close to her.

Eyes no longer upon the paper, she hesitated, unsure as to whether or not she really wanted to know what he was doing, and then finally she turned slowly on the spot in time to see him staring eagerly at her neck.

Butterflies were playing energetically beneath her chest.

But she stilled them.

Or at least, she stilled them as best she could.

Mortified, she retreated a few steps and cleared her throat, roughly shoving the page back into his unresisting hands and carefully securing her black cardigan about her shoulders, tugging apprehensively at her red shirt collar and clearing her throat.

"Right well, best get to it then," she said mock breezily.

The Doctor sighed heavily, looking momentarily crestfallen, but nodded after a moment's pause.

"I'll need your help, Martha," he replied, tones suddenly deadly serious. "I can't do this on my own."

Martha had figured as much.

He could barely keep his mind focussed for more than thirty seconds, right now. So how was he supposed to stick to however long making a freakin' antidote might take?

"Thought there might be a catch," she laughed, jokiness rich within her words and yet feeling nothing of their light-heartedness personally.

In truth, she was terrified.

And the Doctor knew as much.

Managing to control himself even to his own surprise, he gripped her shoulders and stared intently at her, scarlet eyes wide, their gaze burning and heart-rending. She flinched, but otherwise remained motionless, staring mutely back.

"Martha, you have to be prepared. If I can't hang on … if it looks like I'm lost to it … do whatever you think necessary to stop me, okay?"

Martha's eyes widened. Momentarily lost for words, she remained silent.

"Please Martha," he continued, mistaking her confusion for disbelief, "I don't want to hurt you, but I just don't know how long I can fight this." His words were rushed, his eyes wild and fiery. "The longer I go without blood, the stronger the need becomes. The harder it is to fight it! And I'm struggling already when we're only twenty minutes in! Believe me, things are going to get ugly! I need you to promise me you'll look after yourself no matter what the cost is!"

His desperation was true, pure.

His feelings for her even purer.

Dumbly, Martha nodded, suddenly enraptured by his urgent orbs for reasons other than their hypnotic calling.

"Okay," she whispered, meeting his pain-racked stare face on.

The Doctor nodded in satisfaction and smiled.

"Right, no time like the present then," and he was off, bolting through the internal doors towards the TARDIS' medical suite, albeit with slightly less bravado than usual but with the same Doctorish determination.

He was weak, she knew that much, but at least he hadn't given up yet.

With an anxious final glance around the console room, Martha was sure she heard a faint whistle of 'good luck' flutter into her ears, before she too vanished from sight, the door swinging shut behind her.

With a nervous bleep, the TARDIS dimmed the lights of the console room and mentally prayed for her passengers' safety, knowing full well that the Doctor's strength of will wasn't going to hold out much longer.

And if he gave in, if he offered himself up to the enveloping darkness … well, suffice it to say they would all be screwed.

Because after that first kill, there's no way back.

Not even for a nine hundred year-old Time Lord.

They could only pray that it wasn't going to come down to that.

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Thanks for reading! Next one might be up on Wednesday, 'cause I'm going out tomorrow. If I get a chance though, I'll try to post it before we go. If not, first thing on Wednesday, for sure!

Blessed Be!

Hugs,
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx