So, I'm on a role tonight! For those of you who keep up with my writing, three stories/updates in a row (with a fourth one on the way, can you believe it!) is a record for me. But what can I say, I'm in that kind of mood. Anyway, this is a shout out for Martha. I've kind of forgotten her recently, and only remembered her because I was going through my iTunes account and found my collection of Series 3 shows and music. It's pretty lighthearted, compared to the stuff I've been writing. (Check out Memories if you're in the mood for some good old fashioned angst.) So here we go. Enjoy!

It was kind of funny, really, how often she was forgotten. For all she had done, people still passed her by in the streets, completely unaware of how many times she had helped save their lives. Most of the time, it didn't bother her. Martha Jones wasn't a vain woman, or an attention – seeking one. So she let it pass. Other days, though, it angered her. She was Martha Jones, the Doctor's former companion. She had saved the bloody world more times than she could count and the bloke at the chips shop still had the nerve to think she would actually try and steal something. Like she couldn't afford to pay for her own bloody chips. Yeah, right.

Martha sighed, trying to tell herself it didn't matter, that the poor man was just trying to make a living for himself, but nothing much helped. For a while after the Doctor left, or she left the Doctor, whichever way you'd like to put it, she had been fine. She had spent time with her family, gotten a job at U.N.I.T. with a great salary and had even found someone who she was willing to spend her life with. She had moved on. But now she was bored. Flat out bored. Her life had become monotonous, and extraordinarily repetitive. Wake up, eat, kill some bad guys (namely invading aliens), do some paper work, go home, eat dinner, go to bed (with or without her boyfriend – a doctor's hours were never kept on a schedule) and repeat the next day. And the next. Even the weekends had become dull. And now, as a result of her extreme boredom, she got angry, and upset, and reminiscent. Her mother assumed she was pregnant. That had not been a boring conversation, at least.

Martha knew she had to do something; she just had no idea what it would be. She couldn't call the Doctor; she knew he was off on some new adventure with new companions and a new face. Her family wouldn't understand her need for excitement; they had experienced enough trials and turmoil to last a few lifetimes. So Martha kept to herself, and continued on.

A few weeks after the Chip Shop Incident, as she had so duly dubbed it, Martha found an adventure. She hadn't planned it, exactly, it had just happened.

She was on her way home from work, her last shift being even more boring than she thought humanly possible, when she had heard a sort of clanging sound coming from a side-street, just off of 3rd, and had nearly run into a beautiful girl, no more than seventeen, whose deep auburn curls were bouncing in their pony-tail as she dashed quickly past Martha with a mumbled apology, obviously busy. The girl made it nearly the length of the block before she turned around again, and ran back. The two women stared at each other for a moment, Martha in confusion and the girl in apprehension, as if she was trying to figure something out.

"Oh my god… you're Martha Jones! I can't believe it! Oh, he is going to love this! Just wait till I tell him! But – oh you don't know me yet, do you? Damn, I hate timelines sometimes, don't you?"

The girl had a slight American accent that was laced with something that sounded a lot like French, as if she had learned both languages and was still trying to decide which one she like more. Martha started when she realized the girl was still waiting for an answer, and struggled to come up with something clever at all, still in a slight daze after the sudden intrusion on her formerly peaceful and quite dreary day.

"Um… I'm sorry, but who exactly are you? And what do you mean timelines, you sound just like the Do… someone I used to know. And aren't you a bit young to be running around this late?"

"Oh I am sorry, Miss Jones, I'm being rather rude, aren't I?" The girl asked lightly, grinning. "I can't tell you much, vortex and reapers and all that, but my name's Katy. I've only met you a few times – that's why I was so surprised to see you. This must be quite young for you, then? You look bored to death… or at least you did before I jumped out at you. Sorry about that, by the way. Bit of a scuffle. Probably don't want to be near here when the police find the body actually… that will be quite a confusion…" she mused. "I wonder if I should call Jack…"

"Captain Jack?"

"Of course! Torchwood would probably love to test it or something… it's not often a Raxocoricofalipatorian dies without exploding, but then again, they haven't met me yet!" The girl's mad grin was back, and Martha was left even more confused than before. She hadn't even known Jack was on Earth, much less nearby.

"Anyway, I need to be going. He'll be missing me soon, he's ever so protective." She rolled her eyes, and glanced over her shoulder. "It really was lovely seeing you though, even if you still have no idea who I am. You will soon though, I promise! Have a good night!" With those last words of parting, the girl turned on heel and skipped off, seeming excited to go wherever she was going. Martha called after her, still not quite sure who she was or what she was supposed to do now.

"But wait – what about the Raxocoi-whats it? And you never told me who you were! Where are you going!" Unfortunately, though, she got no response, as Katy, if that was even her name, had disappeared into the darkness. With a sigh, and a slight smile at the girl's antics, Martha turned around and headed back the way she came, eager to tell her boss she'd be needing some time off. She had a captain to find, and a girl to meet. There was no more time for boring things like paperwork. Martha Jones had a life to live.

Well? How was it? I'd really like to know! Love it, hate it, think I'm insane, whatever! Just tell me!

(That means review, folks.)

Merci!

-Reinette