Set in the 'Year that Never Was'. Scribbled in about an hour - unbeta'd. I own nothing.

The street was a mess, and completely empty. Shards of broken glass from almost every window littered the concrete, and empty boxes were dotted here and there. The Post Office on the corner of the street had no door, and the roof had caved in. The small duck pond was devoid of any ducks, and the bus shelter had been smashed in. Somewhere in the distance, a hungry dog whined, breaking the eerie silence.

Martha jogged to keep up with the young man, who's long legs enabled him to walk a lot faster than she could. She kicked a stray stone as she passed, and it's impact with the pavement sounded like a crack of thunder in the abandoned street.

"Look, watch what you're doin', alright? We don' wanna make any unnecessary noise, or attract any unnecessary attention." The man whispered, motioning for her to hurry up.

"Sorry. Where are we, anyway, Mark?" she replied, shining her torch on the ground and being careful to avoid any more offending pebbles.

"Leadworth." Mark grunted. "Or what's left of it..."

There were two soldiers walking up the path ahead. He grabbed Martha's arm and pulled her to the side of the pavement, sliding in through a small garden gate that was hidden by an overgrown garden bush. Looking up, she saw a large house, three storeys, with faint lights flickering inside.

"Perfect place, this. Practically the whole village they've got hidin' in there. Always said Sharon had a house that was too big..." He dropped his backpack on the ground, digging around for a few moments before tossing a few cans to Martha. "Right. This is where I leave ya. Give Sharon my regards, I gotta head off to the next village. They're dangerously low on supplies. Maybe I'll see ya around." Mark nodded to her and turned to leave, but not before rapping his knuckles on the door in a specific beat.

"We're dependin' on ya, Martha. Do good. You can do this." He gave her a lopsided grin over his shoulder, and jogged off into the shadows.

"No pressure then..." she mumbled, before slipping into the house. As soon as she had entered, she was surrounded by people, demanding to know who she was, if she'd brought food, of she had supplies. "Uh, is there a Sharon here?" She cried above the hubbub, backing up against the wall in the hallway. A few moments later, a slim, pale woman walked out, twisting her matted hair up in a loose bun.

"Yes, that's me. Problem?" She asked, refusing to move further than the doorway.

"I'm Martha Jones. I was told to give you these, by a man named Mark?" She handed the cans of food to Sharon, who took them and handed them to someone in the doorway, giving a weak smile of gratitude.

"Are you really Martha Jones?" asked an old woman who was perched on the bottom step of the staircase. Martha nodded, and the crowd grew excited.

"Are you really going to kill the Master?"

"Is it true that you alone can kill him?"

"Leave the poor girl alone!" Sharon demanded, emerging from the kitchen with a chipped and cracked cup, which she handed to Martha. "Don't worry, It's not poisoned. It's just tea."

"Why don't I get tea?" The old woman scowled, as Martha sat down beside her.

"Because you've had already, Mrs Poggit. We can only have a certain amount each day. Amelia, come through and help me serve what's in the cans, will you?" A ginger girl, whom Martha hadn't noticed sitting at the top of the stairs, got to her feet and clambered over the bannister, rather than ask the people at the bottom of the steps to move. Sharon tutted, before disappearing into what Martha assumed was the kitchen.

"So, going to kill the Master, are you? You've become quite the legend, dear." Mrs Poggit smiled, patting Martha's knee.

"I've travelled all across the world, and I've yet to come across someone who hasn't heard of me..." she clutched the cup of lukewarm tea, grateful for the faint warmth it was giving her frozen hands. "It's odd, to say the least. I wasn't expecting my journey to be this successful. I didn't think people would believe me."

"Why are you walking across the world, though? Looking for the Master?" a boy at the top of the stairs asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"I was told to. I was instructed to."

"Who by?" Sharon queried, exiting the kitchen and handing out cracked bowls of cold soup. The ginger girl, Amelia, did the same.

"A man. A man called the Doctor."

A silence fell over the house, and all eyes turned to Amelia. She had gone pale, and her hands began to tremble. One of the bowls clattered to the ground, breaking the silence. Before Sharon could instruct her to clean it up, or tell her off for wasting rations, Amelia had scrambled back over the banister and buried her face in the shoulder of the beaky-nosed boy on the top step.

"Was it something I said?" Martha asked hesitantly, taking in the hostile glares of the people surrounding her.

"He was my imaginary friend, that's all!" Amelia whimpered, a multitude of emotions flashing across her face as she turned to Martha. "Imaginary, he was never real." she repeated again. Martha placed her cup on the floor and headed up the stairs towards the two teenagers.

"He is real, I can promise you that!" Martha placed a hand on Amelia's shoulder, but she shoved it off. "He's protected the Earth more times than anyone can imagine! He travels around in a blue box..."

Amelia clamped her hands over her ears, whilst the boy pulled her closer.

"Rory, he was just a game. Wasn't he? Just a game, I made you dress up as him, we made pretend aliens and a cardboard Police Box. Childish nonsense! He wasn't real!" she pleaded with the boy, Rory, as he awkwardly patted her hair and she repeated the words that the psychiatrists had engrained into her brain. Childish nonsense.

"Just pretend." He reassured her, scowling at Martha. "Listen, she's spent the past nine years being told by psychiatrists that this 'Doctor' man doesn't exist. And now a complete stranger turns up out of the blue and tells her that it's all true? That she should just disregard the past nine years of bullying and confusion? If this 'Doctor' exists, you should tell him that he should keep his promises. Amy's childhood has been ruined, and all because of that guy."

Martha sat in stunned silence as she watched Amelia cling to Rory, and thought about what Rory had told her. The whole village had been told that Amelia's stories about the Doctor were nothing more than childish fantasies.

For the first time since she had begun travelling, Martha started to lose some hope.