Hey there, fellow Torchwood fanatics! I decided to write this little companion piece to "The Benefits of Distance" because while I was writing it, I began wondering what Ianto had been doing during all this end-of-the-world stuff. I decided that he'd meet Martha. I decided he'd be part of the resistance. I also decided that I couldn't really write this story if I didn't twist the established plotline a bit. Please excuse the many incongruities (I know there are more than can be counted) and just enjoy the ride!

Also, I just LOVE Jack and Ianto. Don't you?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Martha Jones couldn't see anything out the window of the ATV as it rolled slowly across the idyllic European nighttime countryside. It was a new moon, and she knew that if she were to look up, she'd see every star in the black sky. But the vehicle's windows were too narrow, and she was too anxious to waste energy on trying to maneuver to see the stars. She'd seen them at much closer range many times before, anyway.

She'd been constantly anxious for about one year now. She'd forgotten about what it felt like to be relaxed, off her guard, to have some free time. But the constant travel and the constant strain had wound her up like a spring, and she knew that she only had a little more time before the spring snapped and she broke down. She also knew that if she broke down in front of the people who she was supposed to be speaking to, then the whole effort would be in trouble. And Martha was a doctor (well, practically). She knew what she had to do to put that moment off for as long as possible—take advantage of moments like this to rest, to take a break from thinking. Relaxation was out of the question, but she might as well try to have a simple conversation.

The driver of the ATV had picked her up in Berlin and was conducting her (slowly but surely and carefully) to Paris. He hadn't said a word since he'd asked her name and handed her a cup of excellent coffee as she climbed in the door. He was a young man, but like everyone she'd met over the past year, he seemed older than he really was. Had she met him under any other circumstances, she would probably have thought him to be attractive, but being on the Master's most-wanted list didn't leave much time or energy for sexual attraction. Martha realized that she didn't even know his name, and felt guilty.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't even know who you are. That was rude. Erm…what's your name?"

The man had obviously not been expecting such an overture, and he started as she began to speak. Flashing a slightly skeptical look, he said, "I'm Ianto." Her voice was husky and thick from misery and fatigue, but she had no trouble picking up on the Welsh accent.

"Hello, Ianto," Martha said, extending a hand for him to shake. "My name's Martha Jones."

"I know," the young man replied with a hint of a smile, shaking her hand. "Everyone knows who you are. Also, we got this part over with back in Germany."

Martha laughed, settling back in her seat. "So…you're British, then, are you?"

"Welsh," Ianto clarified, confirming her suspicions. "I'm from Cardiff."

"Cardiff!" Martha exclaimed.

"Is there a problem?" the man asked, sounding confused.

"No, no," she said. "It's just that everything seems to tie back to Cardiff. Especially recently."

"It's the rift," Ianto muttered quietly, and Martha was fairly certain that he was speaking to himself and his words were not intended for her. But something about them struck a chord in her memory.

"That's right!" she said. "A rift through time and space. It bleeds energy!" Martha looked at her companion, and giggled when she saw that Ianto's face was twisted into a very amusing expression of mixed astonishment and incredulity. "My friend. He's—well, he's a sort of doctor. He told me about it." She squinted at the young man. "How do you know about it?"

Ianto drew a shuddering breath and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. "It was sort of my job. You know…before."

Martha nodded again, but in her head she was connecting the dots of information he'd provided her with. From Cardiff…the rift…The answer to the elusive not-question hit her right between the eyes.

"You're not Torchwood, are you?"

Ianto looked at her, but he didn't seem so surprised this time. "Did your doctor tell you about Torchwood, too?"

"No," Martha said. "At least, not about the Cardiff branch. The Doctor's all about Canary Wharf."

Ianto bit his lip. "I was there, too," he whispered. "In London." He shook his head, and Martha could see his blue eyes growing shiny with tears. "It was horrible."

"Yeah…" Martha said. "I lost my cousin that day."

"My girlfriend," Ianto said. "Lisa."

There was a brief silence as both of them digested the other's misery and loss before Martha said (with more awkwardness than she'd intended), "So, Torchwood Cardiff, are you?"

"Yes," Ianto replied somewhat distantly. "Torchwood Three." His focus sharpened as he fixed her with another one of those intense blue gazes. "How do you know about us?"

"I traveled with the man who told me about it," Martha said. "A long way. A long way and a short time. You probably knew him—his name was Jack. I think he was like the chief, or something." She stared out the window, trying to get a glimpse of the night sky. "I hope he's all right."

It took her a moment to realize that Ianto's silence didn't have anything to do with boredom or sleepiness. The young man had gone white, and his eyes had widened to the size of tea saucers. His breath was escaping his lips in shallow pants, and he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

"Ianto?" she said. He didn't respond, and she could tell that he wasn't paying any more attention to the country road than he was to her. "Ianto—maybe you had better stop driving for a moment." He nodded almost imperceptibly and slammed on the brakes harder that he should have. The ATV lurched violently to a stop.

He still wasn't speaking. She grabbed his arm and shook it, calling his name. "Ianto? Ianto!" Something clicked in her memory again, and she found words springing to her mouth that she hadn't even remembered hearing. "Ianto—Ianto Jones?" The young man nodded again, as imperceptibly as before. "Oh, my God! Jack told me about you! I remember!" She paused, recalling what else Jack had said about this quiet man. "That's why the coffee was so good," she said. "You must have made it. He said you could make one great cup of coffee."

Ianto blinked, the first reaction she'd gotten out of him. "He did? When?"

"It was sort of…" Martha trailed off, remembering the conversation with as much clarity as she could manage. The Doctor was taunting Jack about collecting a little team, and even Martha had been a bit incredulous. Of course, she shouldn't have been surprised that anyone would follow Jack—the man was so larger-than-life that of course people looked up to him. She'd asked him about his team, and he'd been only too happy to gossip about Gwen Cooper ("The heart of the whole thing"), Toshiko Sato ("The most brilliant and shyest computer technician ever to live"), Owen Harper ("Such a lovable tool") and, of course Ianto Jones.

He hadn't seemed as comfortable discussing the mysterious tea boy as he had the rest of the team, which Martha had immediately picked up on and the Doctor had remained typically clueless about. When she tried to work him for more information about the last team member, Jack had blushed—Jack had blushed!—which was all the confirmation that she'd needed.

"He was your leader?" she asked carefully.

"He was—" Ianto couldn't seem to complete the sentence. His cheeks flooded red, and Martha didn't need her medical training to understand that there had been a little more between the two men than the typical employer-employee relationship. She grinned. This was gossip. This was something she hadn't had a chance to do for a year.

"So am I right in thinking that you two…" she trailed off, pulling a face that suggested clearly what she was too embarrassed to say herself.

Ianto cracked a bit of a smile himself. After a moment of consideration, he said, "We…dabble."

She giggled. "Yeah?"

He nodded, fixing her with those matter-of-fact blue eyes again. "Yeah."

Martha bit her lip before asking the question she'd really wanted to ask. "So what's his…dabbling like?"

Ianto paused, searching for the right word. "Innovative."

"Really?"

He nodded again. "Bordering on the avant guarde." His eyes lost focus and Martha watched him drift back one year, to a time when he'd found love, before the world ended. "Oh, yeah," he muttered. He looked back up at Martha, and the tears were back. "Is he…is he okay?"

Martha drew a deep breath. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "He was more or less okay when I got out."

"But it's been a year," the man said, supplying the words that Martha hadn't wanted to say. "A lot can happen in a year." Again, she had the feeling that he wasn't speaking to her. When she found the courage to look at him again, he had a big smile plastered on his face. "I wouldn't worry too much, he said, restarting the ATV and beginning the vehicle's slow progress again. "It's hard to put a dent in Jack."

His smile looked so fake that it may as well have been made of plastic. It seemed in danger of cracking and flaking off at any minute, but Ianto seemed accustomed to wearing it, or at least an expression like it. It can't be easy being the tea boy in a secret alien-fighting organization, she thought, watching him silently.

"Don't take me to Paris," she said impulsively. Ianto looked at her in total perplexity.

"Sorry? Why not? They're expecting you there!"

Martha shook her head. "I'm going back to Britain. It's time." Ianto shrugged and shifted the steering wheel slightly to the right. "Do you know how to get back to England?" she asked.

"I know everything," Ianto said, and for a moment, his fake smile became real.

"Ianto—" Martha said, and cut herself off with a breath. Ianto looked at her, and she could see his real feelings—the ones that his smile wasn't showing—in his eyes. "I'll get him out," she told him, meaning every word. "Jack. I'll bring him home."

Ianto regarded her for only a second, but in that second, she could feel him assessing her in every possible way. Finally, he nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Jones," he said. "I hope you do."

I hope you weren't too bored! I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please review!