Martha entered the TARDIS kitchen to find Jack already ensconced at the small table with his feet propped up upon a second chair and a newspaper spread before him. He glanced up from his reading as she entered and passed a measuring gaze over her slightly rumpled morning appearance. She met his eyes unflinchingly, accepting his challenge. At least she had changed clothes. Jack looked to have slept in that heavy blue coat of his; which brought up the question of exactly where (or if) he had slept at all. Given that, the last she heard of it, the town supposedly under his protection was going to hell in a hand basket, Martha expected that he had been awake the whole time that she had been collapsed blissfully in her own bed. A mug at Jack's elbow drifted steam towards the TARDIS' cold, coral colored ceiling.

"That's never coffee," Martha asked hopefully.

"It is, in fact." Jack smiled. "Help yourself."

Crossing to the pot of liquid caffeine, Martha glanced at the headline blazed across the front of Jack's paper. CARDIFF UNDER SIEGE BY NUCLEAR MUTANT FREAKS. Oh, that couldn't be good. A smaller headline off to the side also caught her eye. PURPLE WEB FOOTED FISH FALL FROM SKY; LOCAL SCIENTISTS PUZZLED. Martha shook her head. At this rate, it looked as if Cardiff was going to need a super-sized hand basket. A used mug was already resting in the sink, awaiting someone motivated to wash it and put it away. Donna must already be up. Martha filled her own cup, decided to forego cream or sugar, and plopped down at the table across from the former time agent. Jack was staring intensely at one of the articles, a deep crease marring his otherwise baby smooth forehead.

"You know your face is going to stick like that," she admonished him. He looked up at her, surprised, then with a wry smile folded the paper closed and set it on the table.

"Sorry." He leaned back in his chair and stretched, the joints in his back popping audibly. He rubbed his eyes and pinched hard at the bridge of his nose. "It's been kind of a rough night."

"Nuclear mutant freaks?" Martha asked. Jack shook his head.

"No, weevils." He looked at Martha and seeing the question in her eyes, "It's debatable, however, which exactly would be worse." Martha nodded, sipping at her coffee.

"So you were up all night then?"

"Most of it," he said, closing his eyes tiredly and crossing his arms. "Usually, when they come through the rift you get one, maybe two, at a time. But last night." He shook his head sadly, painting a picture for himself of the previous evening's carnage on the backs of his eyelids. "Twenty, thirty," he sighed. "Tosh stopped counting. The cells were already full so we had to outsource the overflow to the police, the whole city is going into a collective apoplexy and apparently some idiot at the police station decided not to take our advice about not talking to the press." He opened his eyes and blinked at her. "The Doctor's been up all night, of course, working on that rift-dispersion thingy. Hasn't stopped for a breath, as far as I can see. I sent Tosh home for some rest about 5 this morning, she was dead on her feet. She tried to fight me on it until I told her she wasn't any use to us with her eyes too bloodshot to read rift wave patterns."

"Donna's up," he said more cheerfully, "Taking coffee to the troops."

Martha curled cold fingers about the comforting warmth of her own coffee mug and Jack could see there was something she wanted to talk to him about. Something that required her two companions to be decidedly out of the room. She opened her mouth to speak just as Donna entered the kitchen, an empty serving tray tucked under her arm. "Jack," she started, "There's some sort of flying, lizard thing outside flapping about the TARDIS and screeching up a storm."

"Oh, right," Jack said, gritting his teeth a tad sheepishly and picking up the folded newspaper from the table. "Pet pterodactyl. Probably time for his feeding."

He headed towards the door of the TARDIS, playfully bumping against Donna's shoulder on his way out. She smiled and swatted at him as he passed. "Git," she laughed.

Jack spun around to face both of them, his long coat swinging dramatically out behind him. He turned up both palms and shrugged. "You say that like it's a bad thing." Donna rolled her eyes and took his seat.

"Hey," he said, pointing at them, already half outside the door, "You two. Breakfast. I know this great place just around the corner. Like an American diner, only the coffee's drinkable. My treat."

Donna raised her eyebrows, and looked sideways at Martha. Martha turned a bemused look on Jack. "Won't that be a little hard…what with the mutant freaks and all?"

"Don't forget fish falling from the sky," Jack added cheerfully.

"Right," said Donna, "Sounds like a great time for a field trip."

"Come on," Jack cajoled, "Eggs, bacon…" The silence was deafening. "Pancakes?"

Donna face broke into a slow smile. "Thanks, I already ate."

"Ianto bring you something?" Jack asked knowingly. Donna's cheeks reddened in response. "Well, Martha what about you." He looked expectantly towards her."

Martha gave the flamboyant time agent a considering look. "Yeah, I'm game," she replied slowly.

"Then it's a date." Jack grinned, flashing his white, male-model straight teeth, and backing through the doorway.

"Well, that was unexpected," Donna said. Martha looked at her friend. "Fine as a summer day, that one. World coming down around his ankles and he's going courting." Martha shrugged. Yes, with Jack, there was always an ulterior motive, though she thought that this time love might not be his primary objective for his getting her alone. She had a strong suspicion that he would never seriously make advances at either Donna or herself; unless, of course, they were the ones to make the first move. Otherwise he'd see it as some sort of a betrayal of the Doctor's confidence. Besides, Jack was perfectly aware that she, at least, wasn't interested in him in the slightest. Well…Martha mentally amended…maybe just a little. You really couldn't help but admire Jack and his careless, boyish charms. Rather like the Doctor, really. Without all that complicated alien nonsense. No, whatever Jack's motives for buying her breakfast, sex was…for once anyways…off the menu. She was sure she'd find out the reasoning behind his mad desire to brave mutants and God knew what else for eggs and bacon soon enough. There was, however, one thing Martha wanted to know first.

"There's seriously a pterodactyl?"

/

A tiny hidden bell chimed shrilly as they entered the restaurant. Like an American diner there was a long counter on one side fronted by stools for the patrons and backed by a small kitchen area. There was also a selection of ubiquitous tables scattered throughout the open area and a handful of booths lined up against the back wall. The décor, however, was pure Cardiff; with ancient photos of cricket matches and framed copies of the local paper lining the walls. One such periodical shouted out to patrons that GERMANY SURRENDERS! Another, more recent copy, showed Millennium Centre at its dedication. Made by Torchwood, for Torchwood; though none but the Torchwood members themselves would ever know it.

Aside from a worried looking waitress wringing her hands behind the counter, and one older gentleman nursing a cup in a corner booth, the diner was empty.

"Quiet today," Jack noted as he strode over to the counter, "But I guess that's to be expected." The two of them perched upon stools and the waitress hurried over.

"Hello," she said, seeming distracted, "Is there something I can get for you?"

"Two orders of the number 3 and two coffees, please," Jack replied with an encouraging smile. Then, upon seeing Martha's suspicious look, "Trust me." Martha just shrugged and the waitress poured the coffee.

"So you wanted to talk."

Martha stared incredulously at Jack over the rim of her cup. "You're the one who asked me to breakfast."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, "But that's because I knew you wanted to ask me something."

"Wow," Martha sulked, slurping at her coffee, "Wasn't aware I was such a burden."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "You're not."

"Must be." She set her cup upon the counter with a clatter and stared out the windows to the empty, sunlit sidewalk beyond. "God knows I'm no use back at…at headquarters."

Jack appreciated her discretion. He sighed and, reaching a finger out to her chin, turned her head back to face him. "Hey, does it look like I'm doing anything particularly useful right now?"

"You were up all night-"

"And now that's done with." He dropped his hand to the counter. "For now anyways, and it's up to the tech-geeks to do their thing." He shook his head in annoyance. "And for that, we're both pretty much useless." He gave her an apologizing grin and explained further, "Give us a monster to subdue and we're ready for action, but as it is we'd just be hanging around the Doctor, asking questions about quantum whatevers that we really don't want to know about, messing up Toshiko's file system, annoying the hell out of Owen, and tripping up Donna and Ianto as they compete to see who can bring the most tea to the most people fastest." They both smiled, imagining the scene Jack had painted.

The waitress stepped through the swinging door, two steaming plates in her hands. They were piled with artery clogging goodness, and Jack could feel his mouth water from across the room. With a pleasant 'Here you go', the waitress set the food before them and, with yet another worried glance out the windows, hurried away to refresh the old gentleman's coffee. Jack dug in with relish.

"This is what you eat?" Martha asked, incredulous; picking at a fried egg with her fork.

"Mmmmhhhmmmm." Jack smiled around his full maw.

"This stuff will kill you," she said in her best disapproving doctor's voice, while slicing into a thick sausage link.

Jack chewed quickly and swallowed. "Best thing about being immortal, you can eat pretty much anything you want." As if to prove his point, he picked up a fat riddled slice of bacon and ripped it in half with his teeth, then lifted his eyes to the heavens in evident rapture. Martha snorted. For some time afterwards the two were silent, enjoying their greasy repast, until, after Jack's attack upon his breakfast slowed to normal human speeds of consumption, Martha started in on the topic that had been filling her mind ever since their viewing of the various videos the night before.

"Jack," she started slowly, "Tell me about Rose."

Jack swallowed the remainder of his egg with a gulp, then looked at her sideways. "What do you want to know?"

"Oh, I don't know," Martha said, leaning back and crossing her arms. "Maybe this was a bad idea…" Jack looked at her patiently. "It's just…you knew her, right."

Jack set down his utensils and leaned against the counter. "As well as one person can know another, yes." Martha considered his face. He appeared serious, and that was necessary. She meant this line of questioning in all seriousness, and the last thing she wanted from him was a joke at her or the Doctor's (or even this Rose chick's) expense.

"You two were close, then?" Jack nodded and Martha hesitated to go on.

"Did you…did you love her?"

Jack appeared to consider the matter carefully. He closed his eyes and smiled sadly; reminiscing. Shaking his head he breathed out heavily before answering. "It was impossible not to love Rose."

"How so?"

Still smiling wistfully, he continued with his explination. "I never knew anyone who met Rose Tyler who didn't fall madly in love with her inside of five minutes. She just had that effect on people. She never met anyone she didn't like, and everyone else just had to respond to her in kind. We could walk into a place-" Jack held his hands up, now, bracketing his point and getting into the story "-and this was in the old days when the Doctor wasn't quite as charming as he is now- we'd walk in and the whole place would be hostile. People at the bar shifting away from us, beers in hand. Scaly green things looking at us cross-eyed and suspicious. Then boom." Jack tipped his head confidentially towards Martha, "Ten minutes later and Rose would have the whole place buying us drinks, and everyone the best of mates. Hell, the girl made friends with a dalek once!"

"What, seriously?" Martha turned a shocked look on her friend.

"So the Doctor said," Jack nodded and smiled sadly. "I picked her up hanging off the painter of a zeppelin in Blitz-time London. She was wearing this shirt with the Union Jack splayed all over it, and we danced on air by the light of Big Ben." Martha's eyebrows shot into her hairline and Jack shrugged. "I never had a chance."

Martha nodded, and Jack tried to ignore the lost, contemplative look on her face. "So," she said slowly, "Did the Doctor…" Her courage failed her, and as her hope-stricken eyes turned towards him, Jack knew he had to be 100 honest.

"Yes," he said, answering her question before she could even fully articulate it. He watched impassively as her face fell. She had steeled herself against this unhappiness, had prepared herself for the answer she already knew was coming, but still could not entirely keep her disappointment out of her features.

"So…they were…" Martha seemed physically unable to say the word lovers.

"No," Jack shook his head emphatically. "It…it wasn't like that…nothing so…so overt as that…they never…I mean..." He struggled to find the words to explain a relationship he had never really been able to comprehend himself. He looked into Martha's dark, confused face and wondered how he could even begin to tell her.

At that moment, a memory flashed to the front of his mind. The past, England, and the three of them on a sweltering train to somewhere to do…something…he couldn't quite remember what…something about violent climate change and unnatural heat waves…it didn't matter. People were squeezed into the car like sardines, doing everything they could not to acknowledge their neighbors; though they couldn't quite escape the rancid mid-July sweat smell of them. Eyes avoiding eyes. People on seats crouched as far away from one another as possible. Those standing, swaying with the motion of the train car; their grips upon the leather guide-loops slick with sweat.

The Doctor was standing next to Rose, with several uncomfortable people separating Jack from the pair of them. That was in the Doctor's black leather wearing days, and despite the heat, he hadn't bothered to shed his jacket. Rose herself was in a pink camisole covered over by a tight buttoned and curve enhancing jacket – a costume concession she had been forced to abide by because of the conventions of the decade. She was clearly suffering, wilting in the humid car, with one damp blonde lock having come loose from her braid and plastered itself to her cheek.

The Doctor turned towards Rose with concern written all over his craggy, angular face. His eyes that day were the deep blue of the Pacific…a color completely out of place with the locale and the temperature…but certainly more appropriate than the ice blue anger they sometimes flashed…or the violet terror. Jack watched silently as the Doctor slowly, and with extreme tenderness, reached out a single finger and tucked the errant strand delicately behind Rose's ear. Rose half turned at his touch, and met his gaze with a look that was neither thankful for his kindness nor amused at his presumption, but rather, perfectly encapsulated her absolute, abiding and unquestioning trust. Jack, with his not inconsiderable experience of the sensual universe, had rarely witnessed anything more erotic.

He blinked from his reverie into the dark brown eyes of Martha Jones. There were just some things that couldn't rightly be put into words.

"She was his," he said, amending after some consideration, "Well, everyone was his, you know how that goes." Martha listened in silence, her face a stone mask. "And….well…everyone was hers too" Jack reached out a comforting hand to the brave young doctor's forearm, "Including him."

Martha nodded with finality, resigned to the matter, and stuck her fork, with perhaps a little more force than was necessary, into her hash browns.