Just as it says on the tin. The idea came to me when I was thinking about the year 1941 for another story of mine (which I'm in the process of rewriting) and I thought about Jack and where he was at the time. Well, I couldn't help but think that he was in 1941 at four different times. So, here goes....

Disclaimer: Jack doesn't belong to me until I rob Russell. T. Davies for the deeds to the show. Then Children of Earth, part 4 would have turned out completely differently. Too sad.

Jack 1

He was in London, at the height of the London Blitz. Staring through a pair of binoculars at a woman who was out of her time; jeans and a union jack plastered across her chest was not the dress code at a time like this; hanging onto a barrage balloon. He had smiled at the sight, taking in every part of her as he thought about who she could have been and how to approach her.

He had saved her and his assumptions were wrong. She wasn't from the time agency like he thought she was, but just travelling with this 'Doctor' fellow. Despite the fact that he almost caused the end of the human race, he had met a couple of honest and good decent people that he'd like to think of as friends.

He was a man who feared death. Scared that his actions could lead to his death, so hi-jacking that bomb and placing it in status on his ship was suicide, but it was his way of saying sorry. Knowing that he was doomed for death, he was overjoyed and completely thankful that the Doctor and Rose had turned up and saved his life, helping him to cheat death.

He still feared death with them though, knowing that they attracted trouble he just had to stay on his toes and one step ahead of death.

Jack 2

Working for Torchwood Cardiff was torture. He may have hated their ways of dealing with aliens and the threats that they held, but knew that it was either follow along with their rules, or endure a lifetime of torture.

Dyeing once was painful enough so dying a thousand times over, he didn't even want to imagine. He lived in fear that the very company he worked for, would very easily keep him silent for a life time and that he would no longer know that feeling of the air on his face.

He was given another assignment, the "find it, follow it, and bring it back here" routine was all to familiar to him, having performed the task hundreds of times before. At least now though, he was being given more free will. That was one joy of working - or being forced to work - for them. He knew that he would out live them and hoped that perhaps, he'd be able to have control and change the way things happened around here.

He feared the thought of being locked up for decades, of the idea of his body being used as a playground for experimentation's - how many ways cen he die before he asks for it to stop? He didn't fear death anymore, there wasn't any need to since he was a guy who couldn't die. He wasn't sure why or how it happened, just thankful that he was still alive and hateful that he couldn't have a normal life like everyone else.

Then again, his life never was normal. He worked for a company that he held fear for. But knew that deep down, even if it took him centuries to obtain, he'd be able to change the meaning of the word 'Torchwood', so that it no longer struck fear into the innocent lives of mislead aliens, but comfort and knowing that as long as they kept to themselves, they were safe.

Jack 3

Torchwood had changed, he'd managed to do it. Only the rift had brought him back to 1941 Cardiff, at the Ritz dance hall. Temporary time shift and it had taken both him and Toshiko back to 1941, the height of the blitz. It gave him a sense of De ja vu, knowing that he'd been in this war once before.

He'd mingled with the party. Joined through the night whilst he also tried to figure a way back to his own (other seeing as he was from the 51st century) time line. He knew that he wasn't in any danger, but he had to keep Toshiko safe.

He met a man, not quite being able to put a face to the name before, until now that is and he was scared. For the first time in so many he was scared of what he had stolen from him and worried that maybe he was wrong to do that to this man. Scared that perhaps he had dishonored him in some way, but tried to hide his guilt.

He had one last dance with him, perhaps as his way of saying sorry, and seeing the rift open he knew he had to leave. But not before giving him one of his own kisses, as a final goodbye to the good soldier.

Arriving back to 2007, he feared that he had wrongly taken what he shouldn't have, and it ate away at him, seeing the life that could have been, the life that was and the one that never will be.

Jack 4

Captain Jack Harkness was having fun. At the Ritz dance hall with his fellow comrades, having one final dance before they all left for tomorrows fight. Maybe it would be their last he didn't know, but he knew that he'd fight to come home, he had someone to come home to.

He met a man, Captain James Harper. He couldn't help but sense that feeling of awkwardness that surrounded the captain, but dismissed it and tried to enjoy his night of freedom.

His dance with James was, strange. He had kissed his girlfriend that night but here he was enjoying the feeling of a man in his arms, a complete stranger as they danced together. He could feel all eyes on them, staring at the sight but he didn't care, it felt...right in a way. James was making a run for it though, claiming that he had to go so he bid him a farewell. The kiss that he received came without warning but the response he gave him was one of great passion and need.

When he was stood there, watching the other man leave he felt a sense of pride for him, proud of him and he didn't know why. He just guessed that he was a great guy who did his best for the people around him. He picked up at the party in an awkward state, but retired early with his thoughts constantly going back to Captain James Harper.

'Captain James Harper,' he thought to himself as he stared up at his ceiling, 'You make me a proud man.'

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

"He would have been proud that you took his name," Tosh reassured him with a smile. Jack smiled back, hoping that she was right. 1941 was when the real Captain Jack Harkness died, and he stole the name of the dead man and replaced his own, keeping his identity a secret.

He hoped and prayed to that Captain Jack Harkness that he had kissed that night, that he was making him proud to use his name, hoping that he hadn't disappointed him yet and that he wouldn't in the years to come.

So, what do you think? Just a one shot, and I hope you thought it was alright.

If you're wondering about that story that I'm rewriting, it's going to be a rewrite of 'Dysfunctional Family'. I've already started it but it is completely rubbish, so I'm doing it again. Keep your eyes open for it, I won't change the title.