Title: The Cinematographer is Stuck
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Martha Jones and the Eleventh Doctor
Summary: I will tell you about the roots of Led Zeppelin.
Notes: Set during 5.11.
A familiar ring interrupted Martha's morning rituals: coffee and toast and e-mail. She tabbed to Skype and frowned at the unknown caller. She chewed on her toast slowly, savoring the marmalade, and considered ignoring it.
Her mobile phone beeped. She flipped it over and read, Answer the call.
She did, and an unfamiliar eye peered from the screen. "Martha? Can you see me?" The voice was almost familiar, but when the fellow pulled back, the face wasn't. He tugged on his fringe, then adjusted the microphone of his headset. "Did you know we could talk to each other with pictures now?" He spoke slowly, like an old man, or a politician. "It's remarkable what you humans can do nowadays."
"'You humans'?" she asked, swallowing with haste. "Sorry, who are you?" She fiddled with the handle of her mug, wondering if she should switch back to a stiff tea.
"Martha Jones," the man scolded. "We shared a bed once, you know."
"Is this a joke?" she asked. "I'll flag you, you--" She tilted her head, and he twiddled his thumbs with a self-satisfaction that tickled the back of her brain.
"UNIT hasn't done you many favors," he observed. "That's the military. Hate the military. Aside from you. A few others. Do you recognize me yet?"
"Doctor," Martha sighed. "What have you done now?"
"Nothing at all," he protested. "I'm working in an office now. I have clients."
"God," Martha said. "Did the world end?"
"Working on that," he replied. "And I've learned to Tweet."
Martha laughed, and the Doctor's grin made her homesick.
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Tracked by Cups by Sasha Frere-Jones. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.