Chapter Text
Sarah Jane Smith was the first to leave. Martha stood by one of the twisted columns and waited. She would leave next, Jack likely trailing along with, but for now she would let Sarah Jane have her private goodbye.
She looked around at the people in the TARDIS with her. Rose Tyler… well. The woman was cute, alright, and Martha completely understood why everyone was so besotted with her. Martha smiled to herself, thinking about the past jealousy she’d had. Glad that was over and done with. Rose’s mum was talking to that other man… Ricky? No, no—Mickey. Mickey Smith. Martha eyed him. He looked… nice.
Blinking, she turned her attention to Jack, who was shoving a mobile in his pocket. He returned her gaze with a lifted eyebrow, then nodded his head toward the TARDIS doors. She shrugged. Sarah Jane should be finished by now, she supposed.
Only stopping to give Donna a hug goodbye, Martha exited the TARDIS. The shining daylight blinded her for a moment, and she grabbed Jack’s arm until her vision cleared.
“Hard to think that just minutes ago, it was pitch dark out here,” she said.
Jack hummed an acknowledging note.
“You two are off, then, too?” the Doctor asked.
Jack and Martha stopped in front of him.
“Well, as I assume nobody fancies another trip to the end of the universe,” Jack said, “I figured I should step out.”
“Oh, she likes you,” the Doctor said. “She just needed to get used to you, that’s all.”
Jack sent a glance to the TARDIS. Then he shrugged.
“Speaking of which…” The Doctor snatched Jack’s wrist in one hand and pulled out his sonic screwdriver in the other. He pointed the sonic screwdriver at Jack’s wrist strap, pressing a few buttons on the vortex manipulator with his thumb. “I told you… no teleport.”
Jack looked down to Martha and she raised her eyebrows in return, suppressing a grin.
“And, Martha,” the Doctor said, turning to her next, “get rid of that Oesterhagen thing. Eh? Save the world one more time.”
She smiled up at him. “Consider it done.”
Jack saluted the Doctor, and she followed in suit. The Doctor returned the gesture, and that was all.
Jack took Martha’s hand as they walked away.
“You know,” he said, “I’m not too sure about UNIT these days. Maybe there’s something else you could be doing.”
“When have you ever been sure about UNIT?” she asked.
“Good point,” he said.
“Besides,” she said. “What else would I do? I don’t think Owen would like it if I stole his job.”
Jack laughed. “No, I suppose not. Still. We’d find a way to make it work.”
“Well, thank you for the offer,” she said, “but I think I’ll stick it out with UNIT for a little while longer.”
“Ah, well,” he sighed playfully.
“Oi! You two!”
At the shout, Martha and Jack looked over their shoulders. That man, Mickey Smith, was running toward them. Jack groaned.
“Thought I got rid of you,” he said, his hand breaking apart from Martha’s as Mickey fit in between them.
“Yeah, you wish,” Mickey said.
“You’re not going back?” Martha asked.
“What for?” Mickey asked. “Nothing over there for me. Rose has got two Doctors now. One of them’s bound to keep her.”
“Were you her—” She dropped it. Maybe that wasn’t something she wanted answered. Stupid of her—she’d known the man for all of what, fifteen minutes? And she’d already imagined things for herself.
“Maybe not as much as I thought I was,” Mickey said.
Oh. Well, she supposed that was certainly interesting. But maybe not interesting enough. She wasn’t playing second to Rose Tyler again. Though she did suppose, if he wasn’t even looking back… and if the only person he’d said his goodbye to was Rose’s mum…
Not for her to think about. Again, she’d only known him for fifteen minutes. She needed to learn to think before she felt.
“You know,” Jack said once more, and Marta rolled her eyes in preparation for whatever came out of his mouth next, “I got to kiss the Doctor and Rose and Martha, but never you, Mickey.”
“Good,” Mickey said. “It’s going to stay that way.”
“You sure?” Jack asked.
“You’re not convincing anyone of anything today, it seems, Jack,” Martha said.
He snapped his fingers in mock frustration. “Damn.”
“So,” Mickey said as they began walking again. “Where are we off to?”
Martha hadn’t thought of that yet. Where would she go? Her place in New York was, well, quite some distance from here. She could go back to Mum’s, she supposed.
“Out of the park,” Jack said.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Mickey said.
“You’re welcome, Mickey Moose.”
“Oh, it’s Moose, now, is it?”
Martha caught Jack’s shit-eating grin and held back an eyeroll.
The three of them strolled out of the park. She wanted them to hurry up, just a tad, but one of her companions had set a slower pace and there seemed to be no changing it. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the two of them. Mickey was looking around at everything, taking it all in. Jack, walking with a slight bounce in his step, merely stared on ahead merrily. Either of them could have been the one slowing her down.
They did exit the park eventually, and Martha looked at the road, then to Jack and Mickey.
“I don’t have my mobile on me,” she said. “Can either of you call a taxi, or something?”
“Don’t have one,” Mickey said. “Least, not anymore. It’s stuck in another universe.”
“You don’t need one,” Jack said. He had his head down, studying his vortex manipulator carefully. “I’ve got us a ride.”
“I thought the Doctor just disabled that again,” Martha said.
“He did.” Jack flipped the casing back over the vortex manipulator and smiled at her.
“Then… what were you doing?”
“Tracking the ride. Should be here in about… well, now.”
He peered out at the road then, and Martha and Mickey likewise craned their necks out to see a car pulling up. She frowned at it for a second, confused. And then it hit her like a jolt of electricity, livening her spirits and brightening her day. Her face could’ve split in two, she grinned so hard.
Ianto Jones stepped out of the now parked car, squinting at the three of them through the brilliant sunlight. He walked across the street to them, hands in his pockets and placid look on his face. He looked good. Perhaps he favoured the leg that got torn in the car crash over a month ago, but he otherwise appeared loads better than when she last saw him. And the nice red shirt looked good over those black trousers.
She didn’t throw herself at him. No matter how Jack would tease her about it in the future, she refused to admit she threw herself at him. She hugged him like a normal person. Maybe she was a bit speedy as she reached out to him, and maybe she hugged him a bit tighter than customary, but she hadn’t been in Ianto’s presence in a month. All she’d had were emails, texts, and video chats, and those were nothing like the real thing.
“I missed you,” she said, drawing back and smiling up at him. “But look at you! You look good.”
“Your mum’s made sure of that,” Ianto said.
“Of course she has,” she laughed.
She moved over slightly, letting him have more space, but kept her hand on his arm. She noted that Jack’s hand also rested lightly on Ianto’s back. Holding back another laugh, she figured that all they needed now was a reason for Mickey to put a hand on Ianto, too. Ianto must’ve thought something similar, because all of the sudden he glanced over to the leftover man.
“Oh,” Mickey said. “Hey. I’m—”
“Samuel.” A frown had plastered onto Ianto’s face.
“What? No, I’m Mickey Smith,” Mickey said with his own confused scowl.
“No,” Ianto said slowly. “Samuel Smith. Torchwood London.”
Mickey blinked, and Martha and Jack shared a look behind Ianto’s back.
“I’d forgotten that,” Mickey said, almost to himself. He frowned again. “How’d you know that?”
“I worked for Torchwood London,” Ianto said. “I was Yvonne’s PA.”
Mickey eyed him for a few moments. “Oh, yeah… I think I remember you…”
“I take it you weren’t really a lab assistant, then.”
“No. I was trying to stop you lot from ending the world.” His tone bit.
“Did you know what was going to happen?” Ianto asked, equally cold.
“Well, I didn’t know about the Daleks, but…”
“You should’ve warned us.”
“Would you have listened?” Mickey retorted.
Ianto gazed steadily at him. “I would have.”
Martha couldn’t tell if she was stuck on the fringes of mutual hostility or mutual acceptance, but it now felt like a mixture of the two. Ianto and Mickey stared at each other for a bit longer, their expressions shifting ever-so-slightly.
“Anyway,” Mickey said eventually, holding out his hand. “Mickey Smith.”
“Ianto Jones,” Ianto said, shaking the hand.
“What, no ‘special agent?’” Martha asked.
“I’m not on duty,” said Ianto formally.
Martha shot Jack a hidden smile. Jack grinned in return. Ianto caught them, his eyebrows raising and his lips pressing together, clearly unamused.
“Right,” he said. “If I’m going to be your cab for the day, you might as well get in.”
Martha found herself sitting in the back with Mickey. She hadn’t expected to wind up there; her spot was in the front, beside Ianto, as it always was. But… she did suppose it was Jack who had called Ianto…
She studied the two of them. She was one of the closest friends either of them had. Which possibly made third-wheeling even worse. Though, she figured as she watched Mickey shift uncomfortably for the billionth time, it was better than fourth-wheeling. And she supposed it wasn’t the worst—she got to watch her two friends be happy together. Certainly made Mum happy, that was for sure.
Oh. Speaking of Mum…
“Ianto?” she said. “Could you stop by Mum’s?”
Ianto looked up at her through the rear-view mirror, studying her. “Alright…”
The rest of the drive was largely silent, though occasionally Jack pointed out one or two sites that he recalled from days of old. Martha snuck a glance at Ianto when he mentioned those things—Ianto seemed to be mutely intrigued by what Jack had to say, instead of slightly disturbed. Jack must’ve told him about That Secret of his, then. Maybe that shocked her, after The Year, but maybe it didn’t. If Jack could trust anyone, it would be Ianto. And especially considering… well. Everything between them now.
Ianto stopped the car outside Mum’s flat, and Martha quickly hopped out.
“Have fun, boys,” she said. “I’ll see you both later.”
Then she made a quick gesture to Mickey, who still sat in the back of the car, looking rather confused. He quickly exited at her signal.
“Give Francine my love,” Jack said.
“Will do,” she said.
“Thanks for the lift,” Mickey said to Ianto.
Ianto nodded back in reply. His eyes slid over to Martha, and she sent him a look (one she meant to mean “go have fun!”). He rolled his eyes, but the hints of a smile on his lips betrayed him. She shut the door after that, then stepped up onto the pavement, Mickey following closely, and waved after the car as Ianto drove away.
“How come Jack didn’t get out with us?” Mickey asked.
“Well,” Martha said meaningfully.
“Oh.”
“It was best that we gave them some space,” she said.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” She tilted her head towards Mum’s flat. “Come on.”
“You sure?” Mickey asked. “I mean…”
“I’m assuming you don’t have anywhere else to be,” Martha said.
Mickey was silent for a moment. He studied the flat, a small frown crossing his face.
“I don’t, do I?” he asked. He looked to Martha again. “Thanks. Really.”
“Don’t mention it,” she said. “Come on—Mum thinks I’m probably dead right now.”
“What?”
Instead of answering, she grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the front door. She knocked loudly on it, calling for her mother.
Mum opened the door and almost threw herself at Martha. She reprimanded Martha for a good few minutes about scaring people half to death and refusing to phone back and all sorts of things. Then she drew back, staring at Mickey. Martha briefly wondered how Mickey flew under so many people’s radar—she’d set her eyes on him the first moment she wasn’t fighting for her life and couldn’t look away.
“Mickey Smith,” said Mickey, holding out his hand.
Mum blinked at the hand, then at Mickey, and then to Martha. Martha caught the quick flash behind her mum’s eyes and tried not to sigh. She’d never hear the end of this, would she? And there wasn’t even a “this” yet. Or at all, never mind the “yet.” Who said there would be a “yet?”
“Francine,” Mum said. “Would you like some tea?”
Mickey had a rather warm smile, Martha realised.
Martha pounded on the door. “Make sure you’re both decent before you open the door!”
Ianto’s unamused face appeared as the door swung open.
“Oh, good, you have clothes on,” she said.
Then she stepped past him, entering his flat without permitting him the chance to accept or deny her entry.
“I think you should tell Mum you’re up and functioning again,” she said as she made her way to his kitchen, “because she’s sent me here with loads of food. I think most of it is pies. She has too much time on her hands, I swear.”
She set the bag of goods on Ianto’s island bar, then looked around.
“Where’s Jack?” she asked.
“He’s gone,” Ianto said.
“Already? It’s only been a day.”
“He had stuff he needed to do.”
“Gwen, Owen, and Tosh couldn’t manage for a day without him?” she asked.
“Not when the world just nearly ended.”
She shrugged, conceding to his point. Then she grinned. “Did you have a nice day yesterday, then?”
“Yes,” he said slowly. He failed to elaborate further.
“So, what? You’re not going to tell me?”
“You are exactly like your mother.”
“I’ll ignore that,” she said, pointing a warning finger at him.
Ianto glanced down at the finger, going slightly cross-eyed as he did. He raised his eyebrows, glancing back up at her.
“We went… out on a date,” he said eventually.
“Did you go somewhere nice?”
“It was dinner and a movie.”
“That doesn’t answer the question,” she pointed out.
“Yes! It was… nice.”
She grinned. “You’re all flustered.”
He rolled his eyes.
“And then?” she prompted.
“And then we… dabbled.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what’s his dabbling like?”
“Innovative,” was what Ianto came up with.
“Really?”
He nodded. “Bordering on the avant-garde.”
Well, she couldn’t say she expected anything less from Captain Jack Harkness. “Wow.”
“Oh, yeah.” Ianto’s eyes had gone slightly unfocused then. She almost tried to imagine what he could possibly be thinking, but then stopped herself. Invasion of privacy. She wasn’t going to think about her two friends… dabbling. Then he snapped out of his daze, looking at the bag of food. “So. Pies?”
“Pies,” she confirmed. “Mincemeat, veg, anything you can think of. I think there’s even a strawberry tart.”
“Your mum sure does like making pies,” Ianto said.
“Tell me about it.”
“Thank her for me.”
“I will.” Martha then cast a scrutinising eye over him. Like yesterday, she determined he looked fine. Healthy, even. But this could all be a deceptive front. So, she added, “Lift up your shirt.”
“What?”
She motioned upwards. “Shirt. Up.”
Ianto sighed and rolled his eyes to the heavens, but he lifted his shirt up, anyway. Martha stepped in close and began inspecting his torso. Lines twisted up his abdomen, raised and pink scars from glass. They looked healed. Martha pressed on one and slyly observed Ianto’s reaction. He neither flinched nor budged, merely looking down at her hand.
“What about your leg?” Martha asked.
“I’m not dropping my trousers for you,” Ianto said.
She folded her arms. “I didn’t ask you to. I’m just asking, is it okay?”
“Mostly.”
“You limp,” she pointed out. “Just a teeny bit. But it’s still there.”
“They said it would go away soon,” he said.
“How soon?”
He shrugged. “Just soon.”
“When do you end medical leave?” she asked.
“Next week.”
“Hmmm.” She would have waited maybe another week, but if that was what he was ordered, she supposed that was what was going to happen.
“And how long until you go back to New York?” A terse edge seeped into the corners of his tone.
She raised her eyebrows. “Well, I dunno. I figured maybe… a few years? That seems to be the pattern.”
Puzzlement crossed Ianto’s face as he frowned down at her.
“I mean, I wasn’t that fond of the place, and there are better places to vacation to,” she said. “Seriously, I’ve been stuck there twice, and let me tell you… the Mediterranean would suit me far better.”
“You’re… not going back?” he asked.
She smiled. “Nope.”
“But I thought…” He licked his lips, still frowning. “Six months, you said.”
“Mace called me last night,” she said. “He asked me if I really wanted to go back.”
“And you didn’t?”
“I really did mean it—New York is not for me,” she said.
Ianto paused for a moment. “So… you’re staying?”
“Yes,” she emphasised. “I’m staying.”
Ianto took a moment to process this. He blinked down at her, then glanced away, and then back to her. Slowly, a keen look crossed his face.
“I suppose you’ll be needing backup,” he said.
“I suppose I will,” she agreed, unable to fight the grin breaking onto her face.
“Well. Good.” Ianto raised his eyebrows. “Was going to get rather boring without you dragging me places.”
“You mean, without the chance to throw yourself at every possible form of danger?”
He rolled his eyes, and she laughed.
It was an absolute rush to be out in the field again. Martha couldn’t believe she’d ever taken a desk job. What the hell had she been thinking? Getting away from London was one thing, but dooming herself to constant boredom… not helpful in the slightest. Only left her more time to dwell.
But now? Now, her brain flooded constantly with fixing problems, fleeing sticky situations, and trying to keep herself alive. And Ianto. Trying to keep Ianto alive was very big in her brain. That man attracted danger like clover drew in bees. Granted, he hadn’t gotten hurt since the car wreck, but still, Martha had quite the time with him.
Christ. She had missed this so much.
They fell back into their usual pattern immediately, but it wasn’t until their third mission back together that things got interesting.
“What are you doing here?” Martha heard Ianto demand.
“Me? What the hell are you doing here?”
Startled by the sound of that voice, Martha stopped collecting her samples from the corpse of the Alkaraban. She sent a disgusted glare at the two men tied up in the corner, then left the room in search of Ianto and his companion.
“I’m here ‘cause I heard people were going missing!” Mickey Smith said, his hands raised in surrender as Ianto’s pistol trained on him.
“And… you thought you were going to stop it?” Ianto asked.
“Well, yeah,” Mickey said. “And I would’ve done it, if you hadn’t stopped me.”
“Hate to break it to you, but you’re a bit late.”
“Ianto,” Martha said, having seen and heard enough.
The pair of them glanced over to her, Mickey with wide eyes and Ianto with a raised brow. She made a motion to Ianto. He stifled an obvious sigh, then dropped the gun from Mickey, returning it to its holster.
“Really,” Martha said to Mickey. “What are you doing here?”
“Like I said.” Mickey’s eyes flickered to Ianto, then back to Martha. “People were going missing.”
“Didn’t know you were invested in the safety of the alien population,” Martha said.
Mickey shrugged. “Well, when they’re the only people who accept you after moving back from another dimension…”
Martha frowned and filed that away in the corners of her mind for later review.
“And you just thought you’d come in, unarmed, unprepared, and untrained…” Ianto said dryly.
“Who said anything about untrained? I didn’t spend two years hunting down Cybermen for nothing.”
“Cybermen are not the same as these.” Ianto sounded tense.
Mickey scoffed, “You don’t think I don’t know that?”
Ianto blinked.
“Listen,” Mickey said, holding up his hands again placatingly. “I was just trying to help. And now that I know I didn’t need to, I’ll back off. Alright?”
Martha eyed him for a second, then glanced over to Ianto. Ianto caught the look. His lips pinched and his brows furrowed, but he didn’t seem to disagree with the question she sent through their gaze. She sent him a flash of a smile and he rolled his eyes in fond annoyance.
She turned back to Mickey. “Well, we could use an extra set of hands...”
Mickey stood straighter. “Really?”
“If you’re here already,” Ianto said, “you might as well help out.”
“Huh,” Mickey said, seemingly to himself. Then he shrugged again at the pair of them. “Yeah, alright. I guess I could help.”
And so Mickey helped Martha and Ianto shove their two prisoners into the UNIT vehicle, held test tubes for Martha as she finished collecting her samples of the poor Alkaraban, and then aided her in bagging the body up. He snapped a photo of the body on his mobile, first.
“They’ll want to know,” Mickey said. “If I can’t get them the body back, the least I can do is make sure they know what happened to him.”
Martha thought that was incredibly considerate and kind of him.
Then it was time to leave. Martha thanked Mickey, and Ianto threw in his own grunt of gratitude after Martha glared at him.
“Don’t mention it,” Mickey said.
“We won’t,” Ianto said. “That would only cause trouble for us all.”
“Ignore him,” Martha mouthed to Mickey.
Mickey grinned at her, and she winked discreetly at him as Ianto turned to get into the vehicle. She got in herself and watched Mickey’s shrinking form through the mirrors as Ianto drove them away.
“Hm.”
“What?” Ianto asked.
“Nothing,” she said, sitting straight up as Mickey disappeared from view. “Just thinking.”
Over the next three weeks, Ianto and Martha came across Mickey twice more. Each time went down much the same: they would demand he was doing there, he would claim he was trying to help someone, and then he would end up helping them. Of course, Ianto didn’t hold a gun to Mickey either time, which Martha and Mickey both appreciated.
“Are you stalking us?” Martha asked the third time.
“No,” Mickey said.
“Seems like you’re stalking us,” Ianto pointed out.
“It’s just a weird coincidence, that’s all,” Mickey said. At their looks, he added, “Seriously. I was just doing this as a favour for my landlady.”
“Your landlady wants alien drugs?” Martha asked.
“Well, to her, they’re just drugs.”
Beside Martha, Ianto pulled a thoughtful face. She nudged him with her elbow.
“I don’t think you should be doing drug runs for your landlady,” she said.
“It’s not like I’ve got much of a choice,” Mickey said. “If I don’t want her kicking me out, I’ve got to get them.”
“Why don’t you just move somewhere else?” Martha asked.
“Hard to rent a flat when you’re legally dead. Or get a job. Or do anything.”
“You’re legally dead?” Martha asked, stunned.
“Yeah.” Mickey put his hands in his pockets. “Imagine my surprise when I went to withdraw what little I had saved only to find out that I couldn’t, ‘cause I’d been considered dead here since I switched universes.”
Martha stared at him for a long while. Ianto’s eyes shifted between her and Mickey, but Martha ignored him. She could only think about the way the universe moved on without people. Would that have happened to her, if the Doctor had failed to bring her back one day? She couldn’t even begin to imagine that.
“Well, we can’t let you have the drugs,” Ianto said eventually, drawing Martha from her rumination.
“Yeah, I figured,” Mickey sighed. “Suppose begging you to spot me a few hundred quid won’t work, either, huh?”
Ianto made an apologetic face.
“No, but I can bring you back to life,” Martha said.
Both Mickey and Ianto stared at her.
“I’m sure UNIT can do something about it,” she went on. “I’ll talk to someone, see what I can do.”
“Oh,” Mickey said after a short pause. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
And that was how, five days later, Martha found herself sitting down with Mickey in a small room at UNIT’s London headquarters.
“Oh.” Mickey said as she set a stack of files in front of him. “It’s you.”
“It’s me,” she said.
“I thought you were a field agent.”
“Senior field medic,” she corrected. “But I can still do paperwork. Since I’m the one who set this up, they figured…”
“Ah.” He looked around the room for a second, taking it all in. “Where’s that Ianto guy?”
“Eating lunch,” she said. She began unstacking the files between them. “Right. Should we get you started?”
An hour flew by without them noticing. Martha thought it would be slow work, but it wasn’t. Not when Mickey kept making ridiculous comments about all the forms he had to sign. She found herself enjoying herself immensely, actually.
“Do you want to get lunch sometime?” blurted from her lips before she had time to think it through.
Mickey stopped shoving the last document back into its file and stared at her. She held her breath, just for a moment, before he smiled softly.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’d be great.”
“—then you’ll have to take the south exit to… Ianto, who are you texting?” Martha asked, folding her arms as she glared at him.
Ianto glanced up from his mobile. “Um. Sorry. What were you saying?”
“Is it your boyfriend?” she asked.
“He isn’t my—” He cut off with a sigh. Martha raised her eyebrows challengingly. His own arched in response, and he said, “Actually, it’s your boyfriend.”
“Mickey?” she asked, stunned.
“The very one.”
“Why are you texting Mickey?”
Ianto faltered. His eyes skittered down to his mobile, then back up at Martha.
“Why are you texting Mickey?” she repeated.
“He’s… sending me updates.”
“Updates?”
“On… rugby?”
“Nice try,” Martha said. “He prefers football.”
Ianto grimaced slightly.
“Ianto,” she prompted, losing her patience.
“Okay, okay,” he said. “He’s been helping me out on the case.”
“He what?”
“He asked me about the bodies going missing, and I said we were already dealing with it. So, he gave me a few tips and I just… kept asking for more.”
“Why?”
“He’s useful!” He sighed. “Look. I know it isn’t proper protocol. I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t necessary.”
Martha set her jaw, studying him for a bit. Then she shook her head and untensed.
“Fine. Yeah. Alright, what does he have to say?”
And Ianto looked perhaps too pleased to relay the information, which almost made her regret it. But she had to admit, the intel was incredibly useful. It frustrated her a tiny bit.
“I thought he’d stopped doing this,” she said when Ianto had finished. “I helped him move, for god’s sake.”
“Well, think about it,” Ianto said. “He went from being a man in constant action to… stagnancy. Fighting Cybermen to working at a chip shop. Can’t really blame him for wanting in on the action again, can you?”
Martha supposed she couldn’t. She’d be one big, filthy hypocrite if she did.
“He isn’t, you know,” she said instead.
Perplexment framed Ianto’s face. “Isn’t what?”
“My boyfriend.”
Then he rolled his eyes.
“What?” she asked.
“You’ve been going out for two months,” he said. “I think you’re dating now.”
“You want to talk? You’re the one who just—”
“Right, so, back to the mission at hand,” he interrupted loudly. Martha shook her head, exasperated.
But the thing was, she couldn’t even really say Ianto was wrong. Martha and Mickey had actually been seeing each other on a regular basis since they legally put Mickey’s life back together. At least once a week. Twice they’d gone out two times in one week, because Mickey had been in the area and Martha hadn’t much felt like cooking those nights.
She liked being with Mickey, too. He made the hours spin by without her noticing. He was funny and smart, and above all, kind. Mickey once told her about how the Doctor would patronise him for being an idiot, but from what she had learned he could with computers and machines… he was nothing short of a genius, and the fact that he even helped the Doctor at all meant he had a good heart.
Of course, that brought up Rose Tyler again… Mickey had done it all for her, not the Doctor. Mickey had loved Rose. And Martha couldn’t lie, it did bother her, because look what happened last time she aimed for a man who had his heart set on Rose? But, she did admit, when Mickey was with Martha, he was with Martha. That was miles ahead of where the Doctor had been. And… she supposed the reverse might be the same for Mickey: she was another woman who pined for the Doctor. Was she thinking about the Doctor when she was with Mickey? No, unless the Doctor was the topic of conversation. And even then, she only ever thought of him as the person she travelled with, not the man who had her heart. Because he didn’t, not anymore. Not like that. So, should she really be concerned about Rose? Maybe not.
And… there were the other shared experiences… Not only had they travelled with the Doctor, not only were they ignored by those they dreamed of, but they were both the members of a unique club called “I Lived in a World Nobody Here Knows About and It Was Hell.” The few others who belonged to that club were Martha’s family and Jack. So, she felt like they would’ve come together in the end, searching for someone who understood what it was like.
Plus, he was good in bed. She could not deny that.
“Earth to Martha,” Ianto said. “Now who’s not paying attention?”
“Sorry,” she said, zoning back in. “Go on.”
“You mean ‘repeat all that.’ You didn’t listen to anything I said.”
“Well, maybe if you made it a bit more interesting,” she teased.
He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, what I said was—”
She had offered it by complete accident. If one could call offering to take one’s new boyfriend on what had originally been planned as a honeymoon with one’s ex-fiancé an “accident.”
It was an accident in that she hadn’t considered it fully when she offered, and not an accident because she had meant it. It would be a fun experience for them! But… perhaps not with the shadow of a failed relationship hanging over them. And maybe not appropriate when the relationship was this new and the trip that long and destination that far away. A four-month relationship with Mickey versus a week-long holiday in the Maldives.
The two of them stared at each other for a second. Then Mickey had shrugged, grinned, and said, “Yeah, alright. Sounds like fun.”
And that had been that.
“What if Tom wants to take the holiday?” Ianto asked as Martha shoved stuff into her suitcase.
She let out a short, derisive laugh. “He’d never take enough time off his job.”
“Hm.”
“Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to help me?” she asked.
“Well…”
“Cheeky,” she warned. She pointed at the suitcase. “Hold this down while I zip it shut.”
“You could just pack tidier, you know.”
“Just hold it down without the sass, thank you.”
Ianto drove her to the airport, because she didn’t want to leave a car there for the week. Mickey had arranged to get a cab, so she’d meet him there. Something fluttered in her stomach as they pulled in: either excitement or worry, she couldn’t decide. Possibly a bit of both.
“Okay, don’t let UNIT fall to pieces while I’m gone,” Martha said as she removed her luggage from the boot of Ianto’s car.
“I’ll do my best,” he replied with mock sincerity.
“And keep yourself out of trouble, too,” she added.
“I’ll be fine. I’m not going to get into trouble in a week.”
She squinted at him for a moment, then conceded. “Alright. See you.”
“Bye.”
She gave him a quick hug, then began to drag her suitcases towards the building. She met Mickey there, and the fluttering in her stomach increased by tenfold. Excitement mostly dominated, this time.
The trip was… amazing. She really didn’t have any other word for it than that. She could try to describe it with others: fun, exhilarating, exhausting (yes, in that sense), enjoyable, lovely… but amazing fit it the best. Amazing encompassed all those other things and more.
It solidified everything she felt when she looked at Mickey. She knew she fell fast—it was a thing with her. She fell fast, she fell hard, and she fell deeply. And that was okay! She’d long since accepted this about herself. As long as the other person didn’t mind, well, then it was absolutely fine. And Mickey, as far as she could tell, was all for it. The way he’d kissed her as they sat in front of that sunset the third night… well, she was sure he was at least starting to feel the same way too.
“Ugh,” Martha said as they made their way through the airport. “I almost don’t want to go back to real life.”
“Come on,” Mickey said. “You know you’d miss it. Catching aliens.”
“Not everything is aliens,” she pointed out.
“No, just most of it.”
She grinned. “Alright, I suppose that’s true.”
“You catching a cab with me?” Mickey asked.
“I planned to meet Ianto here,” she said. “But I haven’t seen him… I’ll call him.”
She reached into one of her bags, dug around a bit, and then withdrew her mobile.
“I haven’t even looked at this since the day we left,” she laughed.
“Didn’t look at mine, either,” he said. “The world could wait.”
They grinned at one another for a second, both thinking back to their amazing week. Then Martha looked away, down at her mobile.
“Oh my god,” she exclaimed.
“What is it?” Mickey asked, attempting to peer at her mobile.
“Ten missed calls… all from Ianto…”
“Didn’t think he had that much separation anxiety,” he remarked.
“He doesn’t,” she said, pressing the mobile to her ear as she replayed the missed calls.
She told him to only call if there was a problem. And, as she listened through each one, she realised just how big that problem was.
“Martha?”
She held up her hand to Mickey, silencing him as she listened to Ianto’s final message, filled with him begging her to make sure his sister and her kids were safe. Ianto rarely spoke about them. If he had asked her this, something had happened to him.
Heart nearly pounding right out of her chest, she listened to the last message on record.
“You okay?” Mickey asked as she stuffed her mobile into her jacket pocket.
“We need to go. Now.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“Look, just… call us a cab.”
“Okay, okay,” Mickey said, and then went after his own mobile.
As he called, Martha looked around the airport, trying to grasp if the world was still holding its breath. It seemed it was slowly releasing said breath, really, because while there were fewer people than she’d expect on a Sunday morning, those here were going about as per usual. World-ending events never held anyone back for long. It had only taken hours for people to revert to normal after the Daleks. Evidently a day was all that was needed this time.
The cab took too long to arrive, in Martha’s opinion, but arrive it did. Martha all but threw her luggage in the back, while Mickey placed his own more carefully. She instructed the driver to the right hospital. Mickey watched her the entire time, but she didn’t look at him. The pit in her stomach threatened to consume her and the panic in her chest angled to overwhelm her.
Martha promised the driver that she’d pay extra if he just stayed and waited for them to return. They couldn’t bring their luggage into the hospital and they couldn’t very well let him drive off with it, so they had to make do with this compromise. Mickey didn’t seem to be all too keen on it, but Martha swore that it was her own money that she would put into this. She did understand that UNIT paid higher than a chip shop.
The only break in Martha’s stride through the hospital was to demand a room number from the desk. The woman working it bristled slightly at Martha’s brusque tone but gave the number as speedily as possible. Martha wouldn’t have been surprised if the woman threw a glare at their backs as they hurried onward again.
Martha burst through the room without even a knock, too terrified to bother with protocol or kindness.
The two men in the room glanced up at her, Jack surprised enough to cut off midway through what he had been saying and Ianto sheepish enough to pull a grimace-like expression. Martha stared at them for about a second before the panic in her chest exploded.
“Five minutes!” she shouted. “Five minutes, Ianto—I’m gone for all of five minutes and you manage to get yourself in trouble!”
Jack snickered. Martha glared at him, and he coughed, pretending to suddenly be interested in the way the hospital blankets fell over Ianto’s legs.
“It wasn’t five minutes,” Ianto protested. “It was seven days, and the world was ending, and—”
“Oh, well, I guess that’s alright, then, isn’t it? Perfectly fine if it’s seven days!”
“And I’m fine,” Ianto finished.
“You don’t look fine, mate,” Mickey said from behind Martha.
“Mickey Moose!” Jack said, looking up again.
“I think I preferred ‘Mouse,’” Mickey grumbled quietly to himself.
Martha ignored the both of them, still glowering at Ianto.
“I am fine,” Ianto said. “I just… inhaled some gas, that’s all.”
“It was a virus, and you died, I revived you, and then you spent seventeen hours unconscious,” Jack corrected.
Ianto glared at him.
“Okay,” Mickey said. “Why don’t we just all take a second to calm down—”
Now three people were glaring, and they all directed it at Mickey. He held up his hands defensively.
“Okay, maybe not. I’m just saying, I don’t know what’s going on, and I’d kind of like to know.”
Jack and Ianto turned to each other, sharing a look Martha couldn’t interpret. Then Jack sighed and began explaining.
They had come for the children, Jack said, and they’d done it before. Vile, disgusting, and revolting three-headed creatures, known only as the frequency they spoke at—the 456. The government tried to hide them, hide the past dealings with them, and it had nearly destroyed Torchwood. Needing help, Jack had dragged Ianto into the mix, only for him to eventually wind up on death’s doorstep as they bargained with the 456. Jack had destroyed them, in the end, while Ianto’s life was being saved in the hospital and the rest of Torchwood had gone out on the run to save the children they could.
Martha listened to this raptly, surveying Ianto all the while. No new scars, no new bumps or bruises or breaks. Just an oxygen tube to keep his lungs going while they recovered and a heart monitor to make sure it didn’t blip out again.
“So,” she said eventually. “I’m assuming Mace didn’t take to well to mutiny?”
“No, actually, I’ve been promoted,” Ianto said.
Martha blinked. Jack pulled a face.
“For ‘outstanding performance in the field,’ or some bullshit like that,” Ianto said. “Really he’s just glad I helped fix the situation. Keeps people off UNIT’s arse that way. Can’t blame them for not helping in the slightest if I was there.”
“So, you’re what,” Mickey said, “Special Agent Captain Jones?”
“Yep.”
“Christ,” Martha said.
Jack just sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “Maybe they should’ve just fired you. You’re more use to us than to them.”
“You’re just upset we’re the same rank,” Ianto said.
“I am not.”
Ianto raised his eyebrows and glanced to Martha. She felt a smile unwillingly tug at her lips.
“Okay, out,” she said, moving along quickly. She pointed to Mickey and Jack. “Out, both of you.”
“What?” Jack asked while Mickey merely turned and left.
“You can get him back later,” she said. “My turn.”
Jack shrugged, then patted one of Ianto’s legs before he stood and followed after Mickey. His fingers trailed along her shoulders gently as he passed her, a light and reassuring touch. It comforted her, for reasons she couldn’t explain, but then the fingers left as Jack walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
“How are you, really?” Martha asked Ianto, sitting down in Jack’s vacated chair.
“I’m fine,” Ianto insisted again. “Really.”
She observed him for a bit, trying to ascertain if he was lying or not. While the monitors and tubes did portray some semblance of “not fine,” the rest of Ianto seemed to agree with what he said. So, slowly, she relaxed.
“Jack left… quite the message,” she said.
“Did he?” Ianto said, with a near nervous laugh.
“I thought you were dying.”
“Ah,” Ianto said. He let the silence flow naturally between them for a second, then said, “Well, I’m not. Not anymore. Really, I am fine now.”
“I’m so sorry I never answered my mobile,” she told him.
“Don’t be,” he said. “I knew it was a long shot when I called. I just… didn’t want you to not know, at the end.”
She reached out and took his hand. He squeezed hers reassuringly.
“Are you really a captain?” she asked after a beat.
“Yes.” He grinned. “I outrank you.”
“Heaven help us,” she joked.
“I was thinking, though,” he said, dropping his tone low and conspiratorially. “How long do you think we’ll be with UNIT?”
The plurality stunned her for a moment, but she figured it was… rather accurate, really. He would follow her wherever she went, and she felt inclined to do the same with him. They were their own unit now.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’ve never thought about it.”
“I always thought I’d die for UNIT.” Seemed like honesty was hitting the “brutal” point. “I mean, I thought so for Torchwood London, too, but… I didn’t have anything else…”
“Until now?” she asked when he trailed off.
“I don’t want to work for Jack,” Ianto said, “but the break from UNIT was…”
He didn’t finish, letting it hang in the air for interpretation. Martha understood, though.
“What would we even do?” she laughed. “Strike out on our own? Like Mickey?”
“He could join,” Ianto suggested.
“You’re ridiculous,” she told him, though the fantasy was already forming in her mind. “For now let’s just… enjoy your promotion, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He smirked. “I can order you around now.”
“I’d like to see you try,” she said.
Ianto smiled and squeezed her hand again. Martha returned the smile and gesture, feeling deep down, everything was going to be just fine, no matter what happened next.