Rating: It's listed as "all ages," but there's some profanity and the subject matter is… well, I don't know what you'd call it. That's what makes the fic. Anyway, if screening this for younguns, I'd call it a "teen," personally.
Word Count: 439
Author's Summary: Repeat anything enough times with meaning, and it becomes an obsession, even a fetish.
Characters/Pairings: Ten, Martha (Ten/Martha?)
Warnings: As for rating.
Recced because: Martha plays a game with the Doctor and gradually realizes that she doesn't know quite what the game's about. Then she, like us, perhaps begins to get an inkling, and the whole thing gets much worse.
I don't know that I'd call this dark!fic, exactly, though there's a dark current to it. But "dark" also seems too simplistic a label for what turns out to be a condensed character piece for the Doctor, Martha, and—just possibly?—Who fans and our fascination. A creepy and yet still sort of touching look at what living so long and knowing so many might have done to the Doctor's head. This fic's so short that it's hard to say much without spoiling something, so I'll just push off and give you the excerpt.
"What?" Martha says. "What are we doing?"
The Doctor's lips are parted, hanging open, and his breath comes in and out faster than normal. There's a slight flush on his skin.
"Step in," he says. His eyes aren't on her, exactly, but a shield is up over them. The bright blackness of them looks at something behind that shield, some fragment of memory from some other place and time.
She walks up the ramp into the TARDIS, rather not seeing the point.