Made To Be Ruled-{A Doctor Who/Avengers FanFiction}

Haze

Dedicated to @therealmessenger2 thanks for voting, stay awesome! Hope you like this chapter.

Martha’s POV

Black.

All there is is blackness. In this great abyss of emptiness I have nothing. No memories. No one.  A Doctor perhaps? Sometimes the darkness clears and a mist emerges –green - like the sun rising over the world lost in slumber. In this haze, voices and visions come into play.

Unfamiliar faces. Worry. An uncanny sense of urgency.  Green.  Foolish Mortal…

“Martha,” they call, “Martha!” They persist. I don’t know what it means but it does have a ring of familiarity to it.

There is something in the corner of my mind. Deep. Hidden, but not well enough. A dark figure crouching. Is it asleep? “Wake up!” I think it’s unaware, like me.

What is this? How long will it last? I feel as though this maybe all I’ll ever experience, all that I have ever experienced. As soon as the darkness prevails once more my visions and voices are soon forgotten. Yet the persisting feeling of the being in the corner is still there. Like a spider, creating its web unmindfully in the hard-to-dust areas of one’s room, not creating any commotion, yet, it still bothers you, in the back of your mind, when you’re sleeping, when you’re away. You see, but you do not observe, Doctor, said the wise one…

No matter how long I search, all there is is this fog, this cloud over my head. It’s dull and painful, and conceals everything from the outside world.

Dreams. I remember dreams. Am I having one right now? A large monster is chasing me. A wolf? A snake? No, neither, it’s ice cold, but has fire on its breath. A truly demonic beast is all that can be said. I am running along a colourful pathway but it stretches and grows. Finally I am in reach with the end. There seems to be a guardian, a golden lion, waiting at the end to save me, standing in front of his blue fortress. I reach out for help but he stands by idly, only observing. The beast has now changed into that familiar sickly green fog, which roars like thunder and terrible cries escape it. Most to distorted to understand. The lion finally turns and enters his blue fortress and it disappears forever. I am left alone and the fog consumes me as it plants awful images and voices in my head. A tall, bulky, old man steps through the fog, the monster in his final form. He is missing an eye and booms hateful words at me, “You are unworthy!” “You monster!” “I no longer wish you in my sight!” He summons the dark clouds. A storm is coming…the oncoming storm…. The skies roar and scream and he finally brings down a gigantic strike of lightning that sears straight through my heart, concluding the crescendo of the dream and I crash straight back into the amnesia-inducing darkness while his maniacal, yet entrancing laugh echoes through my head.

. . .

3rd Person POV

“Why is she like this? Why isn’t she getting better like the other two?” The Doctor asked helplessly. They had made it to the surgery with nothing but a few sewer rats to stand in their way. Bruce made sure Natasha, Steve and Martha were all attended to. He advised the group that all they needed was rest and they should be fine by the morning (fine meaning awake and more or less sane) and Clint agreed, having being through the nightmare himself. They’d settled down for the night and Natasha came to at about two in the morning, and Steve at half six. Martha, however, wasn’t responding. She began screaming and shouting nonsense at around quarter to eleven. Bruce had to put her unde sedation to stop her from writhing around and hurting anyone or herself. This made the Doctor very uneasy, and it troubled him deeply. It was now one in the afternoon and all they had done was sit around.