Hi there. I know it's been a while, but I've been going with the flow of life, which hasn't been flowing this way.

This morning, I watched the fast tracked episode of Who.
The Angles Take Manhatten.

So I felt like contributing something decent to the Whovian society, explaining the mush.

Also, Downton Abbey isn't showing in Australia.

There was a burst of rapid machine gun fire, and Martha combat rolled into the ditch and down the hole she and Tosh had excavated the night before, pulling the hessian doorway closed abruptly behind her. Tosh didn't say anything, just continued spooning water into the woman's mouth as Martha unstrapped the bandages from her chest that she had just risked her life to save, and began taking the dirty and pre-loved ones off Sarah Jane Smith. The woman had managed to make it to Tasmania before encountering problems with the Toclofane. Suddenly she let out a gasping, shuddering breath, and lay still in Tosh's lap. Both women were silent for a moment, before Martha laid a sheet of gauze across Sarah's face, and muttered a small prayer. Tosh bowed her head, and sat in silence for a while. Just a few minutes was a wonderful privilege.

That night, Toshiko encountered an inability to sleep. She was more than happy to let Martha sleep while she herself took watch. Martha could sleep, so it seemed foolish not to let her.

Tosh was worried.

More than this situation dictated, surely. So what, they were in an unstable hole at the bottom of a roadside ditch in Tasmania, possibly inhabited by any number of crawly insects or venomous creatures, and several thousand metal spheres out to get them in a post apocalyptic world, she was over that.

Sarah Jane Smith was a Doctor activist, a friend of the great man himself, and an old enemy of the master.

Now, she was dead.

Torchwood were Doctor activists, and enemies of the master, and a lot closer to home.

As she sat here, Ianto could be running for his life. Gwen might be starving somewhere, waiting for the spheres to come and end it quickly. Jack was being tortured over and over again. Donna could be made to watch. Owen might be dead.

She stifled a strange choking noise coming from her throat, and gripped the material of her trousers tighter to give her hands something to do.

They'd made through the rest of Europe and the East, all the way down to Australia, and it had taken them six months. Six months and twelve days.

Donna Noble's still form jerked violently as another bolt of electricity entered her body. The chains that bound her wrists to the wall rattled loudly, but were masked by Jack's screaming.

"DONNA! DONNA I'M SO SORRY." He bellowed. The volts stopped- it was over for today. Soon Jack's screams subsided and were replaced by his sobs. "I'm so sorry, baby. If we'd never met, this wouldn't be happening. Oh Donna, I'm so sorry." Using a great amount of effort, Donna lifted her head to look at him.

"I'm not, my love." She whispered.

Today was the day. Adele waited anxiously in the rafters of the barn she and Owen had named their own. He was below, hidden behind several bales of hay, waiting to make the transaction, Adele covering him with her rifle.

Today was the day that Ianto's shipment arrived. The truck arrived, and Adele's heart began pounding in her ears. Owen limped out from behind the hay bales, and payed the man with his good arm. The man stowed his money and went to attack, and Adele's gun went off. He slumped to the ground, and Owen manhandled him back into his van. Adele eagerly swung down from the rafters like a monkey and tossed the hay bales back, revealing the trapdoor in anticipation. The Ianto that Owen escorted from the back of the truck was not the Ianto Jones she remembered. For one thing, he looked like he missed a decent meal. Or several. He was covered in cuts and bruises, and his hair was an inch or two longer. Owen quickly harried him downstairs and Adele closed the trapdoor behind them shut, causing the familiar creak to which she had become accustomed. The walls around her were of dirt and wood, illuminated by her head torch, as the walls whizzed past with her speed. Soon, the walls fell away to reveal their sparse quarters- guns, mattresses, sleeping bags, camping stoves, tinned food and a table, currently serving as Owen's medical table, on which Ianto resided. Half an hour went by, until Owen stepped back and nodded in approval.

"I'll let you two… yeah." Owen muttered quietly. "Just don't… yeah." He limped into their sparse supply cupboard and pulled the 'curtain' closed behind him. She and Ianto looked at each other, and after a long moment, he opened his arms, and she didn't even hesitate before climbing into them. She rested her head against his chest, and the steady beat of his heart soothed her frayed nerves.

"Where's your ring?" He asked in a hoarse voice, caressing her left hand fingers.

"Right here." She grinned, glancing up at him, and pulled it from her pocket, and allowing him to slip it onto her finger.

"I love you Ianto Jones." She murmured, burying her head into his chest. "Forever and ever."

She felt his chest vibrate weakly as he chuckled.

"I love you too, until forever."

Owen watched from the secrecy of the curtain, as the two lovers kissed gently. Deciding to give them privacy he slipped back into the shadows and slumped down on a storage crate. Not that anybody would ever know, but he found it… touching. It was nice that after all of this, love prevailed- for how long no one knows. Lifting his bad arm into his lap and resting it there, while he leaned back on the wall and closed his eyes. As he slipped into long overdue slumber he smiled to himself, as a woman with dark hair and eyes, her face framed with glasses drifted through his dreams…

"…I love him." Martha continued, in a broken kind of voice. The house of refugees listened on, enthralled. Doctor Milligan bowed his head in disappointment. Tosh wasn't listening. Soon, it had to be soon. Today was the first day they had been back in England since the fateful day when the president was killed- all they had to do was somehow get onto the Valliant. Somehow, they had to get themselves captured and not killed by the Toclofane, or whatever they were called anyway.

Bloody hell, she was never going to hear the end of this. Providing the Doctor's plan didn't fail miserably and everybody died.

She was roused from her thoughts be chaos amongst the refugees.

"The Master- he's here!"

"But he never walks upon the ground!"

"He looks like a prick!"

"Steven!"

"Sorry Mum."

Tosh and Martha were bundled to the floor, and had a coat thrown over them. The silence was tense on the staircase as the Master addressed the street. Underneath the coat, Tosh met Martha's eyes, and a silent understanding passed between them.

Slowly, very slowly, they sat up, and carved their way through the crowd to the front door.

Please Review Babesez! Xx

(B.T.W. I think the Downtonian community loves me more- I have more reviews for my other story. Hint hint.)