Martha couldn't believe her eyes as she watched the clips on the news. There was an ambush on the S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicle, which turned out to be an assassination attempt on Nick Fury's life. Martha had tried to ring Steve after she saw it, but she couldn't get in touch with him. She tried not to read too far into it. Surely things had to be chaotic back in Washington D.C. S.H.I.E.L.D. was probably on high alert. All hands on deck. It was easy to rationalize the lack of communication. Steve would contact her as soon as he could. Martha resolved herself to be patient and it nearly worked until a new bit of information flowed her way.
Nick Fury was dead, which was unsurprising to anyone that had seen the street footage. What wasn't widely known, however, was that Director Fury survived that attack only to be gunned down in a different location, Steve's flat. The revelation was shocking to say the least and was only eclipsed by the source of the news.
"Answer the question, Dr. Jones," Alexander Pierce repeated, bringing Martha out of her stunned silence. "Do you know why Director Fury went to Steve Rogers' apartment right before he died?"
"I'm not sure why you think I'd be privy to that information," Martha replied when she finally found her voice again. "I only met him once and that was when S.H.I.E.L.D. and UNIT officially severed ties."
"You and Captain Rogers have been intimate….haven't you?" Piece pressed.
Martha bristled at the invasiveness of the question. "What exactly are you getting at, sir?"
"Sometimes people let things slip when they have their guard down."
"So what? You think we've discussed S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets during pillow talk?" Martha scoffed softly. "World Security Council Secretary or not, if we were having this conversation face to face, you'd be getting a slap."
"I assure you that I mean no offense," Piece replied, not sounding nearly apologetic enough for Martha's tastes.
"Yea? Well intent is hardly relevant once the damage is done, is it?"
"With all due respect, Dr. Jones, the only damage I'm concerned with at the moment is the damage that was done to S.H.I.E.L.D. when someone decided to murder Nick Fury. He was my friend and I won't be satisfied until I get the answers I'm after."
"With all due respect, Secretary Pierce, I suggest you stop wasting both our time and follow up a real lead," Martha retorted. "Now, if you'd excuse me. I have work that requires my attention."
As soon as the call was over, Martha felt the tension building up inside her. Nick Fury was killed in Steve's flat and now the WSC was digging for answers. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to deduce that someone was trying to stitch Steve up.
Martha moved to ring Steve again, but quickly thought better of it. Perhaps it was just paranoia, but communication via phone suddenly seemed less secure. One thing was for sure. She needed to get to Washington sooner rather than later.
Martha sent a quick group text to her family telling them that she loved them and would be out of range for a few days on a mission. After a similar text to Kate about a family emergency, she switched off her mobile and packed a bag. On the way out the door, she grabbed a second mobile that she reserved for special occasions. There were only two numbers saved to the contact list, one of which belonged to the Doctor. Martha dialed the other.
"Don't talk. Just listen," she said quickly when the person on the other end picked up. "I need you to meet me, but I can't explain why over the phone. "No, I'm not in danger, but someone I love may be and I'm not sure who I can trust…except for you."
Martha caught a train to D.C. and by the time she reached Union Station she had received a text from her contact, alerting her to their arrival in Washington. She replied with directions to the coffee shop in Silver Spring where she and Steve had their first date. Once she got there, she found a familiar face sitting inside.
"You have no idea how happy I am to see you," she said throwing her arms around her old friend.
"Anything you for, Martha Jones," Captain Jack Harkness replied with his signature smile as he returned the squeeze. "So are you going to tell me why the cloak and dagger is necessary?" he questioned once they pulled apart.
Jack treated her to a cup of coffee and Martha quickly relayed the details of the events that led her to this point. When she was done, Jack had a smirk on his face.
"All this trouble for a blue eyed captain who's older than he looks?" he teased. "Am I being presumptuous when I say that I detect a hint of projection? Should I be flattered? Because I am. I didn't even know I was your type."
Martha smiled in spite of herself. "Leave it, Jack. This is serious."
"Okay," Jack conceded and his expression sobered a little. "So what do you need me to do?"
"Do you still have those connections with the CIA?"
"Martha, look," Jack said with a grave voice.
"I don't want to do anything illegal per se, I just need information," Martha insisted.
"No. Look!" Jack repeated and gestured to the screen on the wall. There was breaking news showing some sort of disturbance on the highway. Martha couldn't focus on the details because she was distracted by the sight of Steve on his knees and being taken into custody by men she recognized as members of the S.T.R.I.K.E. team. "Is he surrendering?" Jack asked.
"I don't…I don't know," Martha answered breathlessly. "None of this makes any sense." She continued watching the scene unfold. Her eyes were glued to the screen as Steve was escorted into a S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicle along with Natasha and a man Martha didn't recognize, but she assumed was Sam. "This is wrong. This is…"
The tension she felt before began to build up inside Martha again and she was instantly filled with an overwhelming sense of dread and an all too familiar feeling of helplessness. Her hand flew to her chest and she clutched the fabric of her shirt as she closed her eyes. Her head was pounding and the sounds of the patrons in the coffeehouse suddenly seemed deafening.
"Martha?" Jack's voice reached out to her through the haziness coursing through her mind and body. "Are you alright?"
Martha wasn't alright. She was having a panic attack. It didn't happen often. Not anymore. In fact, Martha struggled to remember the last one. How long had it been? "I need to get out of here," she announced mechanically.
The next thing Martha knew, he was guiding her out of the coffee shop and into a cab. She wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed between then and Jack checking them into a hotel, but the quiet of the suite did wonders for her headache.
"Deep breath," came Jack's voice from somewhere to her right.
Martha stared blankly ahead and drew in a deep breath through her nose. She held it for a few seconds before pushing the air out her mouth in a slow, steady stream.
"And again," Jack prompted.
Martha obeyed silently. Slow breath in. Slow breath out.
How many times had she practiced these tactics in the past? How many times had she needed to do so? A lot more frequently in the early days, if she recalled correctly. It was rough back then. Back when the world went back to 'normal.'
The Year That Was had been erased from the memory banks of all the lucky sods that hadn't been aboard the Valiant, like her ex-fiancé Tom or her brother Leo. But for others like Martha, Jack, her parents, and Tish, the memories were packed away in the backs of their minds where they could ignore them on a good day. And on a bad one, such as today, they came bubbling to the surface at full force begging to be acknowledged.
'Well over a year,' Martha answered her first question in her head. She hadn't had an attack since before she met Steve.
Martha relaxed her shoulders, falling out of the rigid position she had been in long enough to cause her muscles to ache from the tension. The last few days felt like a terrible dream. Deep down she knew it was real, but somehow she felt disconnected from her surroundings. Steve was in trouble and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.
Martha eventually calmed herself enough to sleep and once she did the full extent of her exhaustion hit her hard. She realized that she hadn't slept well in a few days. Not since the last time she spoke with Steve. When she finally woke, she could sense that she had been out for a while.
"How long was I asleep for?" she asked Jack as she pulled herself out of bed.
"Long enough," Jack answered hesitantly.
Martha preemptively took a deep breath and braced herself for more bad news. Before she could ask for an explanation, Jack flicked on the telly and once more Martha was inundated with unsettling images. The Triskelion, a building that had been a daily part of her life for well over a year, was in ruins. Bits of it and destroyed Tri-Carriers littered the Potomac in a scene that was reminiscent of a war zone.
"Bloody hell! What's happening?" she demanded.
"Short answer?" Jack asked with a quiet huff. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is in ruins in every sense of the word. Someone dumped all of their dirty little secrets onto the web and when I say that the combined exploits of both UNIT and Torchwood don't hold a candle to them, I'm not being overly dramatic."
"But S.H.I.E.L.D. is good. I'm sure of it," Martha insisted. Yet, even as the words left her mouth she doubted their validity.
"The only thing S.H.I.E.L.D. is good at is deceiving everyone including itself."
"Meaning?"
"From the sound of it, there was a snake in the grass. One named Alexander Pierce."
"Pierce?"
Jack nodded. "And not just any kind of snake. The nasty kind that grows two more heads for each one you chop off."
"That was it. This whole time. Hydra was growing right under their noses," Martha deduced.
"And no one noticed?"
"No someone did," Martha insisted. "Kate said Nick Fury was keeping secrets from UNIT. He must have figured it out and gotten too close to the truth."
"And it made him a target," Jack added.
Martha's mind was suddenly reeling from the onslaught of information, but through it all, she still managed to fixate on one thing. "I need to find Steve. I have to make sure he's alright." She pulled her previously abandoned mobile out of her bag and quickly switched it on but much to her chagrin, Steve was still unreachable.
Martha's eyes took in the wreckage on the screen once more and she made a silent vow to scour every inch of debris herself if it meant insuring that Steve was alright. Before she could attempt to sell Jack on her plans, her phone was hit by a barrage of missed call alerts and one voice message. Martha didn't recognize the number, but the timestamp revealed that all of the calls were made within the last few hours. She took another calming breath before lifting the phone to her ear to listen to the message.
"Hello, Martha?" the voice of a man she didn't recognize began. "This is Sam Wilson. I think Cap may have mentioned me? I assume this is the right number. There's only one Martha listed under his contacts so I just went with it. Anyway…" He paused. "I'm calling you about Cap. He's been hurt. He's stable, but it's still pretty serious. He said you were a doctor so I'm sure you'd rather see for yourself. He's at the GWUH. Get here when you can. We'll be waiting for you."
Martha shoved her mobile into her pocket and was halfway out the door before she spoke. "Steve is in the hospital. I need to see him."