It's Just a Scratch
by
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx
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Thank you shouts to Laby Anne Boleyn, The Noble Platypus, Cute Gallifreyan, Freakk66, Syreene, Emela, JForward, AscendingWithTyler, Vcarp93, forestwife, Jackie, Tai Greywing, AvitarGirl, Dodie and Chris!
Hmm … a bit later than I'd hoped, so sorry about that. I got called away on another computer job with Dad, so my day was practically gone by the time we got back. Fingers crossed I'll actually get paid for my efforts with that one, then it might just about be worth being dragged away from my writing.
Oh … and is anybody else not receiving alerts? I'm beginning to wonder why …
And 'oh' again … this is incredibly 10Martha, this chapter. Just thought I should probably warn you … (Grins evilly)
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11.
With a strangled yell, Martha stumbled awkwardly to a halt and turned on the spot, biting back a scream as the Doctor's frozen breath hit her face. Caught in his death grip, she winced as he forced her backwards, wrists enclosed and pressed hard against the wall at either side of her head.
A tiny, choked whimper emerged from her blocked throat as he fell heavily against her, effectively cutting of her retreat. Her eyes met his, and as their endlessly swirling, scarlet depths burnt through to her soul, movement was snatched from her limbs.
"Doctor," she whispered, the incessant whispers in her mind suddenly vanishing with little more than a joyous snicker. Almost as though they knew she was theirs, now. They had no further need to taunt her.
They had won.
Or so they thought.
Her mouth the only thing that seemed to be working, she tried to keep her bottom lip from trembling and forced the words from her throat, as difficult as that task proved to be.
"Doctor, please don't do this." She stared at him in despair, rather inclined to realise that he didn't even appear to be listening to her. If this situation had been any less terrifying, she might have found it incredibly rude of him. But as it was, it only fuelled her desperation. Voice rising with every word, she shivered and swallowed hard. "You wouldn't … please, you wouldn't! This isn't you! Please don't do it!"
"Sorry, Martha," he whispered darkly, tones so unlike his own that Martha's knees buckled. Only the Doctor's grip on her spared her from hitting the floor, though she wasn't exactly sure as to whether or not she was grateful. He leant towards her, fangs bared and gaze one of pleading acceptance.
But the lust, the pure, raw need that shone out with it was enough to wipe her mind completely blank. Unable to move, unable to think, she simply stood there, so furiously, frustratingly close to the med bay, to the antidote … and yet so far from it at the same time.
His red eyes trailed down to her neck and her breath hitched. With a slow, teasingly tentative smile, he lowered a hand, releasing one of her wrists but hardly poking freedom when she couldn't control it herself. It simply flopped limply to her side while his free hand looped across to wipe a stray lock of hair clear of the crook of her neck.
Mouth inching towards it moments later, Martha gave a last ditch attempt at saving herself and intervened before the fangs could sink into her skin, forcing her legs to drop an inch.
Successfully sliding her neck out of reach but leaving her lips to take the contact.
She felt him smile against her, his fangs nipping at her lower lip as he pulled back a little, staring at her with apparent confusion and, she hatefully noted, hunger. Her last chance was little more than an act of complete desperation, and without thinking, without plotting, without meaning to, she pressed her own lips to his, momentarily forgetting her plan as she felt him gasp before returning it.
And now the hunger was hers.
The need was hers.
Biting back a moan as he deepened the kiss, it took her blissful mind what could later have become hours to realise that this couldn't exactly be classed as 'escaping'.
But she'd wanted this for so long …
Tasting herself on his lips and faintly becoming aware that she could move, albeit very slightly, she vaguely found herself wishing this could be the Doctor. It seemed such a shame that she was getting the one thing she'd dreamed of, but it wasn't with the one she wanted to share it with.
And that thought woke her up.
She gasped as she felt his fangs nibbling on her lip again, not enough to draw blood but enough to remind her of who this was. Yet while her mind snapped itself back into focus, he seemed not to notice, instead having apparently put the sound down to pleasure, rather than sudden awareness.
Taking advantage of his distraction – and delighting in the fact that whatever spell he'd had her under appeared to have lifted a little – she tried to forget that she was enjoying the experience and instead manoeuvred herself beneath him, pretending to slide a little against the wall as she shifted her foot around.
Looking for his …
Oh God … the things he could do with his lips … she'd never even imagined …
Mind blanked again, she felt sheer disappointment raise its ugly head as he pulled back slightly, scarlet eyes gleaming with delight, the look enough to make her legs weak. Seeing his gaze drop to her neck again, she forced her misted eyes to lock themselves onto his and pulled him back before he could do it, all the while shifting her foot as gently as she could.
Surely it couldn't be that far from his?!
A moment later and she found herself lost again, senses a complete mess and her mind struggling to discern the lust, need, fear and determination that all seemed to want her attention. Her wrist was still tightly encased within his grasp, but she barely noticed anymore. Instead, Martha bit back another moan as she felt her tongue gliding almost invitingly across his fangs as he pressed himself against her.
Which suited her, for more than one reason.
While she'd never actually admit to herself that she enjoyed it, it also meant his foot was that little bit closer to hers …
Feeling his lips shifting, she squeezed her eyes tight shut and prayed she'd not miscalculated. He'd pulled back. His lips were gliding oh so slowly away from hers, across her cheek.
Over her chin.
Towards her neck …
It was now or never.
With an almost indistinguishable whisper of "sorry," she lifted her foot, reflexes unusually quick, and brought it crashing back down. Tilting her head sideways, thinking she was in trouble now but glad that she'd at least tried it, it came as a shock to her, therefore, when he hissed and jumped backwards, hand dropping from hers as he overbalanced while trying to tug his foot free.
She pulled her own back, watched in sheer surprise as he fell backwards, ruby-red eyes glaring at her, then wasted no further time and bolted around the corner, flying into the med bay and slamming the door shut behind her. A tell-tale click! told her it was locked, and with a silent prayer of thanks to the TARDIS – who blinked the lights in acknowledgement but otherwise remained tactfully silent – she dashed for the table and stared at the beaker, eyes alight with desperation and complete despair.
Sure. She had it now.
But what the Hell was she supposed to do with it?! He was hardly going to stand still long enough for her to force-feed him it. She had no chance!
Then a thought struck her.
Could she not just inject it? Would that work?
She didn't have a clue.
It was worth a shot, at any rate.
'If this works, I deserve an instant pass on my exams,' she thought to herself frantically, hearing the door pounding behind her and jumping out of her skin. She covered it up by running to a cupboard and rooting through it anxiously, her body literally on its last legs but her mind working overtime.
She heard him screech, the sound cutting right through to her soul as she turned to glance despairingly over her shoulder at the door. It was holding fast, no doubt thanks to the TARDIS' intervention … but it wasn't going to hold like that for long.
Growling in frustration, she scrambled to her feet and ran towards the medical side of the room, yanking open a promising-looking cupboard and wincing as she felt the floor tremble in response to a particularly nasty crash from the doorway. How could he even be that strong in the first place ?!
Trying to ignore her racing heart and the blood pounding in her ears, she abandoned neatness and unceremoniously threw boxes, tubes and pill bottles to the floor as she ran her hands over every inch of the cupboard.
Almost laughing with relief but not quite managing to force the sound out as the door trembled on its hinges, she scrambled to her feet again and ran for the table, hurriedly pulling a newly acquired syringe from its wrappings and sliding the trigger back.
She glanced at the beaker for a few seconds, then with a murmured, "oh, what the Hell," she dunked the entire thing into the swirling red liquid, ignoring the tingling feeling it seemed to have on her skin as it danced around her fingers delightedly.
So what if it killed her? As long as she had enough time to stop the Doctor, it was a small price to pay.
Luckily for her, it didn't seem to care about her frozen fingers, choosing instead to fight its way into the syringe as she pulled a needle out of its packet with her free hand, glancing at the door in horror and calling back a scream as she saw the large indent in the centre of it.
There was no way the Doctor could do that willingly ... he loved his ship. Rather unhealthily, Martha thought, though she'd never say that to his face.
But then hunger could do the strangest things to people, there was no doubt in her mind about that. And a newly-turned but starved-for-hours vampire would surely suffer a great deal more than any human ever could.
Her cry of fear finally emerging as little more than a strangled croak, she withdrew her hand and stumbled away from the table, sliding the needle into the syringe with fumbling fingers just as the door finally gave way, hinges pinging clean off and landing with a loud clatter beside one of the room's many beds.
She ignored them.
Turning on the spot, hand with newly constructed and completely prepared antidote carefully concealed behind her back, she blinked and a moment later paid the price when a clawed hand enclosed around her throat and his scarlet eyes were inches away from her own.
"No more games," he whispered dangerously, relinquishing his grip on her throat only to clamp the hand down onto her shoulder and pull her towards him instead.
With a gasp, she tried to keep the stinging tears from slipping over their boundaries as the swirling darkness seemed to darken that little bit further within his eyes.
"No more running away. You've starved me too long, girl."
And Martha's heart sank.
It really wasn't the Doctor, was it?
'Well, it's taken you long enough to work that out.'
With a faint moan, she closed her eyes, trying to forcibly block out the taunting, leering voices in her head. She'd thought she was rid of them.
Obviously her 'kicking-up-a-fuss' moment had given the vampire enough cause for concern for him to want to make her suffer that little bit more.
And it was working.
Her head seemed seconds from tearing itself to shreds as the incessant murmurs continued to echo through her mind with ferocious sincerity.
'We told you we'd get you in the end, Martha. Why not make it easy on yourself? Give yourself up. You knew we'd win, you must have done.'
Mind impassively blank, even to her own surprise, Martha couldn't suppress a shudder as he leaned towards her, the hand that had gripped her shoulder now fastened to her waist as he sank his lips down to press against her collarbone.
Already prepared for the pain, she had nothing left to lose.
Only half-concentrating on what her hand was doing, distracted as she was by the strange feeling of numbness that seemed to have passed through her entire body as his lips slowly met at last with the skin of her neck, she threw caution to the winds and gently pulled her arm around, using her thumb to turn the syringe around in her palm before gripping tightly to it and inching it towards his arm.
Doing this blind wasn't going to work …
Any second now, and she'd have had it …
As she felt the tiniest of pricks graze her collarbone, she flicked her hazy, unfocussed eyes down to study her hand in concentration, sinking the needle point first into his arm and at the same time having a rather unwanted flashback of her school days, remembering her TB jab and the hassle the school nurse had had trying to find the vein.
Odd, the things you remembered when your mind decided to desert you.
Was it too much to ask for her to get it right first time?
She knew not.
She couldn't handle this, not now. Her body had long since given up the fight.
Her final conscious movement was the removal of the needle, her practically limp wrist retracting it before letting it slip to the floor, a dead weight.
Then his arm vanished from her waist. Whether that was due to her timely intervention or just the fact that she'd completely missed it and that final act had accomplished little but to enrage him, she didn't know.
Nor did she care.
Scarlet orbs were floating like fireflies before her eyes, the only part of him clearly definable against his misty, fogged-up outline. The room swaying and the floor vanishing from beneath her, she vaguely found herself wishing those red eyes could have been brown. That loving, passionately warm, Doctorish brown she so dearly remembered and missed.
That would have been a nice last thing to see.
Red just wasn't his colour.
Then the red was gone.
And Martha Jones was lost before she even hit the ground.
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Well, there it is. The end is most definitely in sight. One more to go. Ish … Maybe two ... depends on what my Muse thinks, I suppose.
But AnyWho.
What did ya think? Go on, you can say, I won't tell anyone. Honest …
Blessed Be!
Hugs,
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx