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

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Title: It's Just a Scratch
Fandom: Doctor Who (2007)
Characters: The Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones
Prompt: # 011 - Red
Word Count: 31'655
Rating: PG-13
Summary: 'It's just a scratch,' he says. Too bad his blood-red eyes say different. The Doctor's becoming a vampire, and Martha's life is in danger yet again.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.
Author's Notes: Three cheers for morbidness! Hip hip hooray!

A/N 2: Now, before you bite me for starting yet another story, this one's already fully written so I'll be updating probably daily … or at the most every two days … and it ain't really that long … so n'yea. Enjoy, brothers and sisters of the night!

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1.

The screams and cries of a thousand dying souls chased them through the chaos like ghosts. The asphalt ground beneath their feet was scorching, enhanced by the pain-racked yells of a failing planet.

And still they ran on, lungs burning, eyes watering, breaths short and piercing, stabbing into their chests like a hundred sharpened knives.

Exhaustion was snapping at their heels, and the shrieks were getting louder. Harsher.

With a despairing glance over her shoulder, Martha's eyes widened in horror as the flying creatures - closely resembling giant bats - swooped down upon them, claws outstretched and inhuman screeches primed for release.

"Doctor!" she screamed, turning back and shooting a sideways look to her weakening partner, who's once tan trench coat, now blackened with dirt and dust, was flapping about his ankles as if on a makeshift wind. His distinctly ruffled hair was stained scarlet, and the once spotless, brown suit now clung desperately to his stick-thin form, ripped and even redder than his hair, tainted by an entire species' lifeblood.

As well as his own.

A week in captivity had not worked out so well for him.

Though, saying that, Martha highly doubted she looked any better off. So scratch that.

A week in captivity had not worked out so well for them.

With a dry sob, Martha willed herself to run on. Much to her relief, the Doctor had spotted their predicament for himself, and was forcefully doubling their pace. Groping hurriedly for her hand, he gave it a reassuring squeeze as their fingers interlocked and tugged her encouragingly on.

"Come on!" he shouted, lungs protesting and causing his command to escape more along the lines of a strained croak than anything else; a mere glimmer of what he'd hoped for. "Not far, now!"

Martha's eyes were as wide as saucers.

How did he do it? Damnit, they were close to death, and yet still he was so full of life, so full of energy, so full of adrenaline as they yet again found themselves running for their lives.

So close to death, he may have looked. But he sure wasn't acting like it.

Yet another scream reached her ears, and Martha pushed on, legs objecting beneath her, threatening to crumble to the ground mid-step. But she ignored them.

Well, that is, she ignored them for as long as she possibly could.

Which in fact only turned out to be a few further steps.

Then her legs really did give out beneath her.

With a cry of despair, Martha was sent tumbling to the floor, unwillingly dragging the Doctor down with her. Her hands hit the ground first and with a small choking sob, she drew them into her chest, cradling them as they blistered before her very eyes, the heat from the pavement biting remorselessly into her skin.

"Martha!"

Through a hazy film of tears, Martha glanced up to see the Doctor staring at her, sweat-laced face mere inches from her own, his large, mesmerizing eyes staring at her, soulful and urgent.

"I can't," she moaned, light-headedness claiming her as the planet rocked in warning around them. His voice was sliding into and out of focus - quite graciously, she decided - and she didn't have a clue what he was saying.

Fighting back the nausea and the tempting blackness, Martha vaguely found herself being half-dragged, half-carried forwards, thin but strong arms coaxing her hastily on.

But just as her senses were beginning to realign themselves, just as the ground began to stabilise beneath her feet, Martha felt said thin but strong arms vanish suddenly. No warning given, her own desire for balance was the only thing that stopped her from hitting the roasting pavement for the second time in as many minutes.

The world spinning, Martha glanced towards where the Doctor had been supporting her moments ago to see him kneeling on the ground, a hand pressed firmly against his neck as he swatted desperately at one of the flying beasts as it came about, intending to attack its fallen prey a second time.

A flying beast much larger and faster than the rest of them.

Quite obviously their leader.

And Martha was suddenly fully fit once more; nausea, dizziness and exhaustion gone in less than a heartbeat.

"Oh God, Doctor," she murmured, dashing to his side and reaching down, sliding an arm underneath his and yanking him up again, the tables turning almost too quickly to be believable.

Seconds ago, he'd been supporting her!

"It's alright, Doctor, I've got you!" she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Shaking her head to rid it off the encroaching fuzz, she gazed almost absently at his neck as she tugged him on, a gasp of horror escaping her lips as she spotted the unfurling trickles of red that were sliding out from between his splayed fingers.

But she had no time to dwell.

And he had no time to suffer.

The vampires were feet behind them, and their leader appeared to be swooping around for the kill.

With a loud wail of determination, Martha dragged the Doctor on, forcing him to find his own feet after a moment as she readjusted her position, relieving herself of all of his weight as he struggled to support himself.

Their eyes met, for the briefest of brief moments.

And the Doctor was soon grinning manically at her.

Martha's raised eyebrows had to be answer enough, because she couldn't find her voice amidst the pains in her chest.

But turning to face ahead of her again, she soon realized why the Doctor's spirits had lifted so dramatically.

There was the TARDIS, standing tall and proud just ahead of them, the blue police box providing a stark contrast against the bloodstained streets.

Against the pools of red all around them …

Shuddering slightly, Martha pushed that undesired image away and released one final spurt of previously undiscovered speed, surprising even the Doctor as he hurried on beside her, fumbling around in his breast pocket for what was undoubtedly the TARDIS key.

"Um, I don't want to hurry you, but …" She left her hoarse shout hanging, burnt hands extended to provide a suitable braking system as they collided with the Doctor's time ship. The aftershock rocked her arms almost enough to send her flying, but she stood fast, turning to stare frantically over her shoulder.

They were getting closer.

"I'm trying!" he yelled back, reverting her desperate gaze from them to him in time to see his eyes jam shut as he tore desperately at his suit jacket, mentally begging the key to reveal itself.

To her nauseated horror, even as she watched, the trickles of red that were slithering steady paths down his neck appeared to be growing in ferocity. Be it down to his alien DNA or the fact that vampire bats could create one hell of a vicious claw wound, those streaks of scarlet blood were not a good sign.

That scratch was deep.

Impossibly deep.

And yet the Doctor was hiding the obvious pain incredibly well, if indeed he'd even noticed it at all.

Well, in all honesty, it couldn't have hurt much more than the rest of his body did right at that particular moment in time.

If he was suffering as much as she was, he was probably so used to the pain by now that he could barely feel it anymore. Martha had reached that 'total bodily numbness' stage already herself, so it was probably more than likely that the Doctor had too.

After a few seconds, he withdrew his hand and roughly pushed past her, shoving the key frenetically into the keyhole and twisting with more force than was necessarily wise. He'd have knocked her over, had he not extended an arm to catch her. With a small smile of gratitude from Martha, both turned back one final time to glance over their shoulders at their pursuers.

Just in time to see the many winged creatures shudder to a halt in midair, some transforming into their living-dead forms and fluttering to the ground while others remained in bat form, screeches of rage and disgust escaping their howling mouths.

Their red eyes gleamed with hatred.

Then with one final shuddering breath, both Martha Jones and the Doctor tumbled over the threshold, leaving the door to slam itself shut behind them.

The screams of a dying planet were cut short.

The screeches of a predator denied its prey were silenced.

And as the time rotor slid slowly into life, emerald lights flashing, winking questioningly at them from the centre of the room – possibly even in admonishment against them leaving her alone for such a long time - neither Martha nor the Doctor could notice a thing as the blackness claimed them, the burning, searing red eyes of the creatures outside haunting their restless dreams.

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Hmm, strangely enough, I actually enjoyed writing this one ...
So I'd definately love to hear what you think! Please feel free to comment! I give cyber-cookies to reviewers! ;)

Blessed Be!

Hugs,
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx