So finally finally FINALLY getting abck into writing. This was my... well this is my more traditional fare. Not Camelot, not Superhero.
Martha
Jones sat quietly in her chair. A beautiful lunch had been set by her
guide and traveling companion. She was hungry and some of her
favorite foods were set out: ginger noodles and crisp green beans,
things of that sort. The problem was she was hungrier for
explanations than she was for sustenance. It had been a long time
since Smith had agreed to sit and eat with her, just sharing a meal
as friends. And while he had joined her at the table, he hadn't said
a word.
“Is
this a goodbye meal?” She asked eventually. “Is that why
everything's so nice?”
“Neither
of us expected this would last forever.” Smith replied stoically.
“Which honestly is a welcome change.” He continued in a softer
voice.
“What
do you mean?” Martha queried.
“Most
of my companions lately had this feeling or sensation that they and I
would go on and on like this forever. Bouncing around in time,
exploring both space and cultures, getting stuck in the middle of
major problems, finding genius and risky ways out of them. The last
time I believed that, my friend was killed. I haven't made that
mistake since.” He stopped staring at his hand and looked Martha
straight in the eyes. “If I don't say goodbye to you soon, I'll be
weeping over letting you die. I prefer the perception of being a
pratt than being a...whatever you call someone who leaves a trail of
corpses in their wake.”
Martha
Jones stared at her friend. Her mouth was firmly closed, to prevent
looking like any more of a fool than she already felt. “I'm sorry
Doctor.” She whispered. “I understand a bit now...What was her
name?”
Smith
looked confused. “HIS name. It wasn't a romantic relationship. In
fact I didn't think much of him most of the time we traveled
together. He'd been a con-man most of his life and I thought he
should have been grateful I wasn't the time-cop he took me for. But
dying in a hail of Dalek laser beams, just so I could finish my work?
It changed my mind pretty quickly...Of course I never got the chance
to tell him.”
“You
know,” Martha began after a few moments of quiet. “You're right.
It is time we parted ways. As long as we do so on good terms, I don't
see a problem. But can you do something for me?”
“I'll
do my best.” Smith admitted gently.
“Set
me down in the United Kingdom, but not in England?” Martha
responded easily. “I want to explore just a little bit, without
feeling like a total lost kid.”
“Cardiff
Wales alright?” Smith asked at once. “We're heading there anyway;
a pit stop for what the TARDIS uses as fuel.” Martha nodded slowly.
A few minutes of peaceful quiet later they heard the gears grind and
then quiet down. They had landed.
Martha
stood up, shouldered her backpack and smiled faintly. “It was good
though wasn't it?” She suggested. “Everything we saw, every nook
and cranny of different celebrated legends?” Smith gave one of his
rare, genuine smiles, and nodded in return. “Come back sometime if
you want.” Martha breathed. “We can't run forever, not in a huge
stretch like that. But this goodbye doens't have to last forever
either.”
“I''ll...see
what I can do.” Doctor John Smith answered in a voice barely above
a whisper.
As
she walked out of the Tardis and into the clear blue air of what she
judged to be a day in early autmun, Martha wasn't sure how she felt.
She had known for a while she was living in someone else's shadow.
That it was out of sorrow, not romantic love didn't change the
distance she'd sensed from her friend. Was it enough to finally have
an explanation for the hidden emotions nad half-answers? She decided
it was.
“Excuse
me miss, are you lost?” A male voice stated from a short distance
to her left. She turned and saw a man in his late thirty's with dark
hair and a very concerned expression walking up to her. He stopped a
few feet from her and didn't say another word.
“Not
lost, no.” Martha responded quietly. “I never know where I'm
headed so I can't really lose my way, not in the traditional sense
anyway.”
“A
wanderer.” The man responded calmly. “Listen, I realize how weird
this sounds but, are you traveling with anyone?”
“Not
anymore.” Martha answered honestly. “It's going to take some time
for me to get over it. And we might as well introduce ourselves. I'm
Martha Jones.” She extended her right hand.
“Captain
Jack Harkness.” The man replied, clasping her hand firmly in his
own. “I uh...I'm not sure what to do now.”
“Meaning
what?”
“I'm
tempted to take you below to show you more of my life. The problem
is...no one is supposed to see that. The alternative being getting a
coffee around the corner, but that might be more exposure.”
“I
hope you don't take this wrong but you're sounding like a Torchwood
agent.” Jack's face flushed. “I know about them. I had a cousin
who worked at canary Wharf. She told me more than she probably should
have. So I wasn't too surprised at what happened there.”
“Now
I have a lot less reluctance bringing you downstairs. Btu do us both
a favor and follow me directly up to my office when we get there?”
“I'm
fine with that.”
It
was in silent confidence she followed her host down the elevator and
through a couple of corridors before coming into a wide space filled
with lots of technology and scanning equipment. True to her word she
didn't say anything to the two men she passed as she followed Captain
Harkness up some metal stairs to his office. There wasn't much to
say. It wasn't til Jack had closed the door to his fairly-organized
office and reached out a mug of coffee in one hand, a mug of tea in
the other that she even found anything worth breaking silence.
“I'm
seriously hoping one of these isn't drugged.” She quipped, only
half-joking.
“Well,
I will take whichever one you don't. I just never know coffee versus
tea people as quickly as I probably should.” The man replied with a
smile.
“If
it's caffeinated, I'll take the tea.” She did and they sat down.
For a few moments they just sipped their mugs and stared at
each-other.
“Why
me?” Martha asked bluntly. “Why did you come up from the down
under to say hello to me?”
“I
didn't.” Jack admitted haply. “I thought an old friend of mine
had shown up finally. I thought I'd find some answers from him.
Apparently either my scanner still needs some tuning or I missed him
by about 30 seconds yet again.”
“My
thought is the latter.” Martha quipped easily. “
“Why
do you say that?” Jack inquired shortly.
“Two
reasons. One: You're Torchwood. You're entire organization was
designed and brought together to protect Earth against alien
incursions like Smith. It makes sense you'd know how to track alien
technology like his ship. The other is...I don't want to sound like
an intelligence agent.”
“You
mean you don't want to be a Quisling. You know the Doctor and don't
want to give him up to his enemies. Well, I have no way to convince
you things have changed in this organization since the battle of
Canary Wharf. But my personal motivations are different than those of
my superiors. I
don't wish him harm. And the questions I have for him...probably
couldn't go on any official report anyway.”
“If
I told you I've spent months of my life traipsing around the known
and unknown universe with an alien who never speaks his feelings and
has a binary cardio-vascular system...you wouldn't be floored?”
“That's
the Doctor alright. And yes, I can track the TARDIS. I spent some
time inside it actually, if you can believe that.” Jack added
casually. “Actually, something is a little off here. The Doctor was
one of the most passionate people I ever knew. The destruction of his
home-planet might have had something to do with that. But he never
hid
his sorrow or anger very well at all. I don't suppose he told you how
old he is?”
“He's
ancient and forever.” Martha droned. “He's seen the universe grow
old and never goes back to see how far we've come...You meant if he's
older or younger as I know him than when you knew him.” She
realized. Jack nodded slowly. “Jack, if you are who I think you
are...he is definitely older now.”
“How
can I confirm your suspicion without breaking his faith in me?”
Jack Harkness pressed.
“Did
you die in a blaze of Dalek laser beams?” Martha responded bluntly.
Jack looked stunned. “I'll take that as a yes.” Jack nodded
slowly. After a moment he found his voice, weak though it was.
“It's
the last thing I remember, before the accident. I've been waiting for
him to come back with some genius, half-cocked explanation
for...whatever happened. Hence being sorrowful when I missed him
again.”
“This
all is pretty new to me.” Martha posed. “He and I had already
decided to part ways when I found my answer, straight from his fairly
unguarded heart. I guess I'm not making sense? I learned minutes ago
that Smith plays things so close to the vest because the last time he
trusted someone with his feelings, he basically lost control...or was
devastated from the loss. I still can't read him all that well. I
guess he decided it's better not to risk trust and friendship, if
people are just going to leave you behind or die on you.”
“Martha,
that doesn't make any sense.” Jack insisted. “You're making it
sound like he's mourning the death of an old friend.” His mouth
dropped open as the implication of Martha's words slowly reached from
his ears to his brain. “He doesn't know I survived?” He breathed
finally.
“Is
there a reason he should believe that?” Martha returned with
feeling and desire in her words.”I've met the Daleks myself.
Nothing survives their weapons. Nothing that isn't one of them avoids
their hit list.”
“It's
just...I always thought he was the one who brought me back. Kind of a
going away present and an 'I'm sorry' all in one. Which is why I was
so confused that I've lived a century here on Earth without hearing
from him. You're telling me I got that all deeply wrong?”
“It
must have been something or someone else to bring you back to life.
Trust me Jack: He thinks you're dead. From what he said right ebfore
he dropped me off here, he's chosen this cold and detached life to
avoid being hurt by the death of a friend. Once I figured that out, I
was a lot more 'OK' with leaving him.” The pair sat in silence for
a few moments.
A
young woman with straight dark hair and a police badge walked up the
steps. She tapped on the clear glass door and waited. Jack waved her
in. “We'd like to talk with you downstairs if you have a minute.”
The woman said meekly. “Nothing really is going on, and hopefully
it won't...But we need to talk.”
“I'll
be right down.” Jack replied instantly and honestly. “Gwen
Cooper, this is Martha Jones. She's set me straight on a few things.
For once I'll be willing to listen.”
Gwen
smiled and walked out the door and down the steps again.
Martha
Jones waited. “I imagine you have a lot of questions about that?”
Jack postulated.
“Let's
get to your team. I get the feeling you'll have as much to say to
them as to me.” Martha replied.
“With
the exception of the use of one word, you are perfectly right.”
Jack replied evasively.
Jack
Harkness walked into the very middle of the room, with Martha Jones a
little behind him. Gwen Cooper was on his immediate left. Two men,
both fairly well-built and stone faced were right in front their
leader. It looked strangely like the trial of a prisoner. The
slightly stockier man, who clearly had no overabundance of patience,
stepped forward.
“I
won't beat around the bush. You are our leader when it comes to this
work, you should not be our director when it comes to our lives.”
He spoke as though he'd finally come to a conclusion, and looked away
as if he expected a hammer to fall.
“Hopefully
eventually I'll be able to drop that perception.” Jack muttered
quickly.
“It's
not a perception, it's a reality.” The other man stated in a small
voice. “Even according this company, you're not supposed to have
this much control over things not directly affecting our mission.”
“That's
not what I mean Ianto.” Jack replied in a rush. “I don't want to
be seen as a director anymore. And I'm not just saying that because
we have company. I'd like to continue to be a leader. I was a solider
most of my life and I know how to inspire both confidence and action.
That's the point. I want to inspire
confidence, and eventually loyalty...not demand it. I know I have a
lot to do to convince you, of all this, especially you, Owen. But I
promise, if you give me a chance, I will find a way to prove my
intentions.”
“Uh,
not saying we're not glad to hear that, but I have to ask...” The
man referred to as Owen stated.
“It
wasn't for regulations that I ran this place with near-military
standards and extreme detachment.” Jack Harkness began quietly.”
He seemed to realize Martha would have no context for his words. He
turned to his guest and began.“I hope you understand I really am
different than my superiors. As far as how we treat aliens anyway. I
just wish I had treated my own staff with the same consideration.”
“Okay,
I'm very lost right now.” Martha Jones admitted.
“I
go against policy as far as how to deal with the threats my team
discovers and deals with. I don't see potential enemies every time I
meet an extra-terrestrial. I've made the same mistake with my team
the last year as you just described from as Smith: keeping everyone
at arms length. It's more understandable for us here, more natural I
should say. We're a regimented and efficient organization for the
most part. I've never seen a reason to make an exception...Until just
now.”
“Because
now you see where that choice leads.” Martha replied in a small
voice.
“Well
yeah. But also because you've shown me how wrong I was about him to
begin with.” Jack said with a small laugh.
“I
hate to admit it but I'm confused.” Ianto put forth easily.
“Join
the club.” Owen responded.
“Torchwood
was originally designed to protect the entire Earth from alien
threats like Doctor John Smith.” Jack recited. “Actually let's
sit down for all of this back in the conference room.”
“Hell
with that let's sit down right here.” Gwen insisted. Everyone sat
on the floor right where they stood, even Captain Jack.
“I
traveled with this same Doctor Smith for a brief time. His binary
cardio-vascular system and the fact that he carries a sonic tool
better fit to build things than to kill things suit him well. He
loves leading with the emotional heart and fixing things rather than
attacking them. Something eventually cracked the shell that was
holding back what his enemies referred to as 'the oncoming storm'. I
was a few rooms down from him when flames shot up from all over.
'Electrical lightning in very small stripes both blue and red' would
probably be a better description. What's weird is I had already been
shot by the Daleks. I guessed that Smith had somehow brought me back
to life. I've spent the last one hundred and forty-nine years
wondering why someone who cares enough about me to restore me to
life, wouldn't care enough to come back to see me again. Or explain
why I can't die anymore.”
“And
this woman set you straight on that?” Ianto queried.
“I'm
Martha Jones. Smith just dropped me off a few minutes ago. And as I
knew him...he still thinks your Captain Harkness died in that blast.”
