Summary: A series of linked stories about the year that never was, and how Martha Jones tells the story of a Doctor who saves them all.

Characters: Martha Jones mainly, with some appearances from the Master and other minor characters. Vaguely implied Ten/Martha but barely noticable unless you look really hard.

Spoilers: Series 3 finale but I'm sure everyone has seen it already.

Disclaimer: Yada yada yada, if I owned Doctor Who, Series 4 would have ended better.

A/N: Nothing too original, just a series of stories based on Martha's year spent walking the earth alone, with possible allusions to series 4 and another story I have planned, but not a prequel of any sorts. I was just watching series 3 again and I don't think that they went deep enough into Martha's character during and after the finale. The exchange in Journey's End between Martha and the German woman made me think about just how much darker she could have gotten, especially since she was willing to (or at least brave enough to bluff) destroy the earth to save all of creation and the Martha we see at the beginning of series 3 wouldn't have even thought about it. So this is basically something my mind drummed up to deal with the transition from caring, Doctor!Martha to dark Soldier!Martha. Reviews and suggestions are welcome obviously and it's probably not going to be longer than 6 chapters.

The first thing she learns to do is fight.

Martha Jones, doctor in training, runs away from the burning city of London and into the trees. She's not sure where she's even going because trying to get to her car – or any car really – is far too risky and who walks anywhere nowadays? She goes on proper holidays to foreign countries with cheap beer, not gallivanting around English countryside. But all that Martha Jones is sure of is that she needs to learn how to fight.

Two weeks later and she's walking up a hideously steep hill, stopping every so often to take large, gaping breaths. Getting out of Britain hadn't been easy and she was still feeling sick from the days she spent stuck in some tiny boat, hidden under covers and boxes so the Toclafane don't find her. She walks from London to Dover, not sleeping for the first eighteen hours, just walking, always walking. She's going to be doing a lot of that so Martha figures she better get the practice now. She stops in Maidstone and meets a group of people – she figures they're from some branch of Torchwood or UNIT, one of those militant groups the Doctor told her about because their guns aren't human – who tell her about how London fell two hours after she left, how the coasts are being swamped by people trying to get out. Martha snorts, because where is there left to go? They take her to a safe house – for now – and that's when she figures out her story. The one she's going to tell a thousand thousand times all over the world. She stops long enough to get some rest and eat something but then she keeps on walking. They tell her about some place in the north of Portugal, some small village called São Lourenço. There's a man there, they say to her. He'll teach her to fight.

It's only now, as she's hiking up some deserted hill in Portugal with the sun burning her already scorched skin, that she thinks about how utterly stupid this is. It's something she watches in a bad eighties movie, when the main character seeks revenge on the people that killed his family. She expects some old Chinese man at the top of the hill, smoking a pipe and waiting for her arrival, bamboo stick in hand. The thought of it causes her to stop in her tracks, laughing for the first time in… however long, she doesn't remember. She bends over, hands on knees as mirthless laughter racks her body, turning all too quickly to sobs. Deep, heavy sobs that ache her ribs and rip her throat apart. Martha doesn't think it matters; she hasn't spoken in two days. Not even the odd farmer is left on the hills and she isn't sure if they left by their own accord or if they're burnt up somewhere.

She looks up at the sky and doesn't bother to wipe away her tears; she even thinks she see that godforsaken space station that is holding every single person she loves captive. They might even be dead for all she knows. But then again, she knows that the Master is probably burning a city at a time, making them all watch as life itself is extinguished. Her face steels itself into a snarl, pretty features already becoming ruined by war.

"Martha Jones." The voice surprises her and the hard veneer she is trying out drops. Well, she was right about one thing she supposes, they did expect her. But it's not an old, wizened kung fu master; it's just a young girl, probably about eighteen or nineteen. She's got dark hair tied back and she's wearing sweatpants. She could have just gotten in from the gym but Martha bets there aren't many gyms in northern Portugal. She nods and the girl smiles at her, holding up a radio. "They told me you'd be coming. This way." There's a faint hint of a London accent, but she says nothing more as she makes her way – easily, Martha notes with just a little jealousy – up the rest of the hill and towards one of those provincial country houses Martha has been passing for the last forty eight hours. She doesn't break the silence, concentrating on following the woman up and into the house.

"Make yourself at home." She tells Martha, motioning to the large, terracotta kitchen. Martha thinks that this would make a brilliant place to visit for a holiday, the middle of nowhere with a great, big, sprawling house on top of a private hill. The garden, she observes from the large bay window, goes on forever and Martha can see the faint outline of a pool right near the end. She wonders if they made a mistake back in Maidstone when she said she was going to learn to fight because this place doesn't look like a training academy. But she doesn't have any more time to dwell on it as the girl enters the room again, giving Martha a winning smile. "Please, sit down. Water? I think I have some sort of juice in the fridge but I haven't had any time to go shopping. Aliens invading and all. I've got a bunch of fruit though if you're hungry. Oranges, bananas… a lot of bananas." She says all this as she runs the tap and sticks two glasses underneath it, passing one to Martha before turning to switch off the running water. Her voice is light and she talks in a rushed, feverent manner that reminds her of the Doctor. Taking a small sip of the water, wondering whether or not this could be a trap – I mean, honestly, who is this calm when aliens are destroying the earth? – but concedes that since the woman appears to be fine, she can risk the water too.

"You don't say much do you?" the woman continues, sitting down at the table and motioning for Martha to join her. She does, and gives her a shrug, finishing the glass of water hungrily. She doesn't realize just how hungry she really is, but the girl simply shrugs in return and pushes a fruit bowl towards her. She chooses a banana – the Doctor's favourite she remembers with a wistful smile before she shakes away the painful memories. She has to treat this whole thing like a residency trial at work. Be logical about it all. If she got emotional, Martha has a feeling she'd be crying for years.

"Bit hard to think of a nice topic to talk about when you've got aliens hunting you down." Martha replied between bites of banana, finishing it before she was finished with her sentence. The girl laughs, a tinkering laugh that sounds a little familiar, and holds out a hand for the peel.

"Good point you make there Martha Jones." She says, throwing the banana into a bin across the room. She doesn't miss, Martha notes, thinking this might not be a loss after all. It's not a Chinese kung fu master but the girl seems to carry herself like one. Confident. She moves elegantly and she's obviously fit and healthy if she could make that hill without breaking a sweat. Martha isn't unfit per say – she goes, or used to go, to the gym and Tish drags her along to self defense classes twice a week because London is a bloody awfully place. But this is a dark new world and she's already seen the affect it's had on people. She wants to know how to defend herself better, to be one move ahead. Like or not, Martha knows she needs to be a soldier. "I'm Jennifer by the way. Now, they tell me you want to learn how to fight. I can't help but wonder: how do you fight flying balls in the sky?" The way she says it, so curious but not unapproving – impressed even - it's just so damn familiar but Martha honestly can't place this girl.

"I'm going traveling." Martha tells her with a faint smile. Sure, she's seen galaxies, ancient worlds and looked into a burning and alive sun but she's always wanted to see the world and now she has a chance. If only it was under different circumstances. "I've got a story to tell. But with or without aliens, it's a bloody dangerous world out there and I wanna be prepared, you know? It's gotta be worse than Carnaby Street in a sale." Jennifer laughs again, that frustratingly familiar laugh, and shrugs her shoulders.

"Never been to Carnaby Street myself. All that designer stuff, it's so dull. And completely pointless" She muses, pushing and pulling the coaster on the table back and forth, back and forth. It's oddly comforting, like some sort of structure in this crazy world the Doctor sent her into "But you're right." She gets up and grabs Martha by the arm. It's not rough or anything and she isn't sure if it's the contact of another human after days of seeing absolutely nobody, but the skin on her arm flushes warm like a burn. Jennifer pulls Martha straight to face her, eyes surprisingly empty for someone so nice. "Once you become a soldier, you're always a soldier." She warns Martha, voice cool and authorative. "The first time you kill a man you won't sleep for weeks and it gets worse. You've got a big heart Martha Jones and you're smart, I can tell. But you're not a soldier. And this isn't for you."

"It is me!" Martha all but yells, managing to keep her voice under check. "I have a story to tell and… and I have to save the world." It sounds so fucking stupid when she says it out loud, like she's ten again and playing superheroes and supervillains with her brother Leo. "I am not going to let them down and if I have to… become like you," she points at Jennifer, at the cold look in her eyes as if she's seen too much war. "Then I'm gonna do it. I saw him kill a tenth of the population. Like that. He didn't care. And maybe it's pointless and stupid or whatever else, but if I have to walk this goddamn earth alone, I'm gonna learn how to survive. Alone. So teach me."

"And you'd kill one? To save a thousand?" Jennifer counters, not reacting at all to her passionate outburst.

"No." Martha says, without even thinking. She's a doctor, not a killer and that's not why she wants to learn to fight. She doesn't know how to make her understand. "I'd try and save a thousand and one people."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because." Martha begins, her mind probing for the right words. And she thinks of the Doctor, of that cold look in his eyes. Not unkind. Just so very alone. "Only a soldier knows what it's like to be alone. I need you to teach me how to fight, because it's gonna ruin me." There isn't a chance in hell Martha will survive this planet the Master was shaping, filled with fire and sharp whizzing blades slicing fresh from bone, being who she is. She knows that when she passes a person beyond saving, she'll still try and save them. Doctors don't stop until the flatline sound and even then they keep on going because they try and cheat death. But she can't cheat it now. She doesn't know how to calculate her losses and weigh them up against the overall victory or whatever soldiers do. All she knows how to do is heal people. But as Martha thinks about what the Doctor said, her broken, defeated Doctor placing all his last chances into her, she knows that she needs to know what it's like to fight alone.

"Tell the world my name." the old version of her bright and youthful Doctor says into her ear, so quietly Martha can barely hear it. "Just tell them my name and tell them to think of me, all at the same time. And Martha… don't stop running, not for anything."

"I need you to teach me… teach me to never stop running."

Jennifer looks at her for the longest time and then she nods. "Then we better work on getting you up a hill."