Ok, so this was just a little idea I had the other day that wouldn't leave me alone. Mostly because I don't see why it couldn't have happened. Seriously, BBC, so many missed opportunities for a Nicholas Courtney cameo…anyway, let me know what you think, and enjoy!

Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock

Old Soldiers Help the Young

It was easy enough to watch London burn and allow it to fill her with righteous indignation. What gave the Master the right to do this to the people of Earth? And so, full of conviction in the Doctor's instructions—because it was the only thing she had left to believe in—she had said aloud, "I'm coming back."

Now, however, Martha Jones had no idea what she was going to do. She was running on admittedly shaky legs away from the immediate carnage with nothing but the clothes on her back and a shoddy vortex manipulator she didn't even know how to program. No one was around to start telling the story to either, all too busy running for their lives. With a tight schedule and long journey set out before her, the trouble was where to start, and how. How was she going to even escape unscathed?

At the least, the TARDIS key perception filter was keeping the Toclafane, whatever they were, from noticing her. It hadn't done much good against the Master, but she'd counted a few dozen of the little spheres whizzing overhead. Any one of them should have spotted her, but they didn't. All the same, she tried to stay out of the open.

She'd just reached the outer limits of the city and the sounds of destruction and human suffering had lessened. Martha was glad for that; several times, she'd had to stop her medical training from kicking in and delaying her by trying to help someone. It would all be for naught of she were to perish just now starting out, and from what she'd seen if one of the maniacal little things hit you, you were dead before you hit the ground. So there'd really be no point, she reasoned, even as the decision to just keep walking away tore at her heart.

So glad was she to have even made it this far, Martha staggered into the road only to have to leap back as a jeep came barreling down on her. It screeched to a halt and Martha's eyes widened as a woman with short, blonde hair in a long coat jumped out of the passenger seat. One of the side doors opened as well, but no one got out.

"Martha Jones!" In terror at her name being called, she began scrambling back for cover, but the woman ran straight for her. "No, wait, we're not here to turn you in!"

"Who are you then, and how did you find me?" She shot back fiercely, arms raised up as her only defense. She tried to make herself look less pathetic and scared than she was.

"Kate Stewart, with UNIT, and we tracked you by the residual Artron energy you emit. We're here to help you."

"UNIT? Artron energy?" She couldn't help repeating in bafflement. She had no idea what those terms meant.

"Seems he's forgetting to even mention us in his old age," a booming, base voice proclaimed, and she was surprised to discover it belonged to a by all appearances elderly man who had opened the side door and was now peering out at her. He was rather well-dressed for being just as harassed as the rest of them in a shirt and tie with a sweater overtop, and he had a decent amount of hair including a beard and moustache, all white. "Get in, Miss Jones, whatever the Doctor's given you won't help if we're all standing around talking to you."

With a start she made her way warily to the jeep, sliding in next to the unnamed man. Kate Stewart slammed the door shut behind her and got back in the front, ordering the soldier—at least he looked like a soldier—at the wheel to, "Drive, Jenkins!"

They trundled along, but Martha hardly paid attention to where as she was more intent on her questions being answered. "What's UNIT?"

"Unified Intelligence Taskforce," Kate turned around in her seat to address her, combing some blonde strands out of her face that had become displaced. "We specialize in extraterrestrial activity or encounters."

"Used to be affiliated with the UN," the old man beside her added, "Gave us more weight around Downing Street. But now Torchwood's managed to creep in with their cloak and dagger mischief. For goodness sake's if that Vivien Rook woman had shared her intelligence we would have caught on—"

"Too late for what ifs now," Kate cut across, and Martha found her head swiveling from one to the other to follow their back and forth dialogue. Clearly the two were very familiar with each other. "The point is, we know the Master and we know he's no good, and clearly the Doctor wants you to do something about it."

"Look, I get that you know I know him from the wanted posters and all," Martha was really just guessing, but she wanted to sound more sure of herself. "But how do you lot know the Doctor?"

The woman and man looked at each other before giving brief, almost identical laughs. Even the soldier Jenkins had a half-smile on in the rearview mirror, like some kind of private joke. "Miss Jones, your Doctor has worked on and off with UNIT for centuries, I'd estimate," the old man informed her, and she felt both eyebrows raise at that. She'd never imagined the Doctor working with anyone, much less the government.

"He's helped us a great deal in the past, not just with the Master. And that's how we knew how to track you; anyone who's ever traveled in the TARDIS carries a certain amount of low level radiation with them—it's not harmful," Kate hastened to reassure, "but we've recently developed equipment to measure it."

"Very rudimentary, and with you running about with that—what is it?"

"Perception filter," Martha supplied helpfully, touching the key as if to check it was still there.

"Yes, that," the old man nodded, "it made it rather tricky to find you."

"Why did you want to find me?" She stressed the question, still incredibly nervous in these relative strangers' presence. Sure, they said they knew the Doctor, but wouldn't he have mentioned them if they were such great allies?

"Primarily to get you out of London; it's the first place the Master will look," Kate told her, and she had to nod in agreement to that. "We're not sure how far we'll be able to take you, but we can try to get you as close to the coast as possible. The sooner you're out of Britain, the safer you'll be. There'll be someone waiting to take you across the Atlantic whenever you get there."

"And the other reason?"

"To make sure you're prepared," the elderly man answered this time, hefting a backpack she hadn't noticed before sitting by his feet into his lap. "This has a refillable water bottle, five weeks' rations, a change of clothes should yours get damaged beyond repair, and most importantly, this," he took out a small case, opening it to reveal an odd-looking gun with four empty cylinders. Three colored vials were tucked into the casing as well next to the weapon, with an empty pocket for a fourth.

"And that is…?" Martha trailed, more than a little bewildered.

"UNIT's weapon against the Master, a gun built specifically for a Time Lord."

"Really?" She was torn between being almost joyful they had a way to defeat the madman, but also appalled that such a weapon existed to kill Time Lords. That could include the Doctor.

"No," he answered shortly, "but it's what we're going to make everyone, including him, believe. Whatever you're doing, he can't find out, so we'll keep him focused on the gun and its being assembled. The more elaborate the better, that's how the lunatic's mind works. If you come across anyone you don't trust—and there will be people acting as his agents, Miss Jones, make no mistake—you tell them this gun is your mission, that you're crossing the Earth to collect the chemicals. With any luck, the diversion will be enough to keep him occupied."

She nodded slowly, starting to see the merits of such a plan. The merits of UNIT itself were really speaking to her; she now had food and water to start her journey with, not to mention the beginnings of a plan.

"Now I've no idea what ideology the Doctor's instilling his companions with these days," the old man continued briskly, causing her to frown slightly at the words. She wasn't being instilled with anything, she thought for herself. "One minute he's disabling people with that flashy martial arts and the next he's switching out all my guns for fruit, but we're more than willing to supply you with a real weapon." His eyes bored into her, conveying a sense that she should weigh the decision carefully.

The Doctor hated guns, that much had been clear by his ordering Jack to fire the warning shots in the air as opposed to on the Futurekind. Then again, was her thinking of that first merely proving that she wasn't relying on her own beliefs and values? And besides that, the Doctor wasn't even here; she was on her own. "I've never shot someone," she said truthfully.

"That's something to consider," Kate offered, somewhat more gentle than the old man beside her. "But carrying a gun doesn't mean you have to shoot it. It can act as just another layer of defense. Sometimes the threat is more than enough."

"Yes, but keep in mind, Miss Jones, no one would think lesser of you, or they shouldn't," the elderly man spoke up again, and she thought she knew just who he meant with that clarification. "We're not Time Lords building solutions out of household items and a few chemicals, we're human beings. And we defend our planet with whatever we've got, nothing more, nothing less, got it?" He practically barked the last bit sharply.

"Yes, sir," Martha blurted, very nearly giving a salute. But then the jeep suddenly bounced up and down violently, causing them all to be thrown about a bit. The road seemed to get only slightly better.

"Sorry, sir," the soldier spoke up for the first time, "it looks like they've been bombing the roads."

"Blast it, he's blocking the routes to the sea," the old man, or perhaps old soldier was more accurate, almost growled. He quickly packed away the case with the fake gun in her backpack before taking the gun from his belt and holding it out to her.

"I'm sorry, sir," Martha said after a moment, and he did not look surprised, "I think you're right, and I'll probably regret it, but I'm not prepared to take a life. I'm training to be a doctor. A real doctor," she added with a shaky laugh.

The corner of his mouth turned up as he tucked the gun back into place. "Well then, Dr. Jones, you see how you feel once this business has concluded, and whether you regret it or not we might just have a place for you at UNIT. Assuming it's still standing."

"So I just walk in and ask for a job?" She asked, trying to maintain the air of camaraderie and slight humor even as they rattled over yet another newly created pothole. "Anyone I should see specifically?"

"Well Kate of course. But if you can't get a hold of her," his eyes darted to the blonde's briefly for a moment and an unreadable expression passed momentarily over both their faces, "you tell whoever's in charge that I sent you with the highest recommendation."

"And you would be?"

"A general, technically, but I think you'll find the name carries further as Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart."

Martha looked between him and the blonde, Kate Stewart, the pieces falling into place—

The sound of a laser discharging was all the warning they got as it impacted, and the car seemed to fly into the air, hanging there for a single moment. Then the world flipped and it was a crunch of glass and steel and pain. Martha opened her eyes, feeling several cuts stinging her arms and legs, but managing to wriggle all four limbs.

"Dad! Dad!" Kate's panicked cries slowly filtered through, and Martha turned to look beside her. A gash was oozing blood from the old man's forehead, but his face hardened into determination as she leaned over to tend to him.

"Make for the coast, Dr. Jones, that's an order," he ground out, pushing the backpack into her hands. Not knowing what else to do, Martha kicked open the door and practically fell out of the jeep, rolling under some bushes as the increasingly familiar sound of the Toclafane filled the air.

Jenkins was dead, hanging in place in the overturned vehicle by his seatbelt, and Kate was now pulling her father from the wrecked jeep. The old man staggered upright and passed her his gun as the alien spheres swarmed over them.

"It's the moustache man!"

"Bad military moustache man!"

"Master doesn't like him!"

"Tiger…" the Brigadier said with labored breath, gripping his daughter's shoulder tightly for a moment. "Five rounds rapid."

The report of first the gun and then the lasers ripped through the air as Martha crawled away toward salty air feeling sick. She should've known, she should've realized this would happen. A brigadier should've been hiding in a bunker under London with his aides or organizing an armed counterattack, retired or not, not searching for her. But he must've known she'd never have made it this far without help; he was providing a distraction for her to make her escape to the sea. Even knowing it meant certain death.

The tears fell bitterly as she wondered just how many times she'd have to go through this, and Martha Jones resolved that she would learn this year how to fight her own battles, so it could be her turn to be a true Defender of the Earth someday.

OoO

Martha entered the nondescript building over a year later, resume in hand and nerves bubbling in her stomach. It was strange that something so ordinary like applying for a job could get her in this kind of state, after all she'd seen and done.

But as she approached the front desk, hers and the receptionist's eyes were drawn down the corridor as several voices, some raised, grew louder.

"What do you mean he's not answering the telegraph? The man gets himself on the Most Wanted list for a whole twenty-four hours, the Prime Minister turns out to be raving, and he can't be bothered to give us the time of day enough even to tell us to shove off?" That voice in particular, that carried with it such command, seemed to freeze her in place.

"We've detected mass amounts of Artron energy expelled and then reabsorbed, if such a thing's possible, sir," a younger man in a lab coat said, coming into view. He and several of his fellows were flocking around none other than Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart himself, dressed this time in a suit with vest and tie and a cap on his head. Everything else was the same, though. It was like seeing a ghost, but better, not like Tom.

"Oh never mind, don't bother telling me, I'm not even authorized," the retired solider waved the men away. "I'll just go see our Scientific Advisor in her Tower, she'll explain it in the Queen's English," he'd muttered the last part under his breath, but caught sight of Martha just after. She must have had an odd look on her face, for he elaborated, "The office, not the dungeon."

"Er, right," she agreed with a bemused smile. He stopped and peered more closely at her.

"You're Miss Jones, are you not? Here to clean up after that traveler's mess? Can't say I'm not relieved this precludes a talk with Harkness; the man's insufferable—worst kept Torchwood secret to date, provided you've frequented the pubs in the last two-hundred years."

Martha almost giggled at the digs to first the Doctor and then Jack uttered in almost the same breath. For some reason, she didn't feel the need to defend her two friends in the face of such plain criticism. The elderly man stated it like plain fact and she was hard-pressed to dispute it.

She gathered her wits enough to shake her head and reply, "Actually, sir, I'm here to apply." There, she'd said it. The science lackeys and the secretary were watching with wide eyes now.

"Is that so?" The Brigadier inquired, then held out a hand for her resume, which she gave him. He scanned the page, "hmm"-ing occasionally and finally nodding once. He then placed it on the receptionist's desk. "It'll be good to have some people with practical experience again. Welcome aboard, Dr. Jones."

She was shaking his hand before she knew it, and had to hastily correct, "Oh, I'm not quite a doctor yet."

"That's easily solved," was all he said, and the receptionist quickly scribbled something down. "If you'll excuse me." He began walking to the door.

"Brigadier," Martha called out before she could stop herself and he paused and turned back to her. "I, er, met you and- Ms. Stewart," she figured there had to be some reason the woman went by that name, "only you wouldn't remember because, well," she struggled to explain, feeling like she needed to try.

He simply waited silently for her to trail off, then stated dryly, "It wouldn't surprise me."

"Thank you," Martha finally managed, more sincere than she'd ever felt. He merely touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. In return, she snapped off a crisp salute, the first one she'd ever given.

For men like that, she wouldn't mind.

Ok, so I ended up squeezing a lot in there. Yeah, this was mostly me expounding upon how awesome it would have been to have the Brigadier, a long-time enemy of the Master, in the Season Three finale. Seriously, couldn't they have at least mentioned him? Plus I wanted to try writing him and Kate together. They would've made an awesome team. And just a random theory on how and why Martha ended up with UNIT by the time Season Four rolled around as well, it's all good. Not to mention an explanation for where she got the fancy fake gun thing. Seriously, could they not be bothered to show us just a little more of awesome Martha walking the Earth? They kind of skimmed it, to be honest.

There's some references to Classic Who, like the Third Doctor's Venusian aikido that I had the Brig just call 'flashy martial arts', and the space-time telegraph he uses once to summon the Fourth Doctor for help. I could see the Tenth just unplugging it, he's so anti-guns. And rude.

I hope I got the characterizations down; I haven't been able to see the SJA episode Courtney guest starred in, so I just sort of made the Brig a slightly less terse version of his usual dry humor, sharp-witted self. And I like the idea that everybody at HQ still treats him like the boss when he drops by after some big emergency. Also I really don't get why UNIT didn't have a bigger role in fighting the Master, they've been doing it for decades…whatever. Anyway, I'd love to hear people's thoughts on this, so thanks for reading and please review!