Myraid Whovian Adventures

 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.”