Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood, Doctor Who, God, or anything that is publicly recognised.

A/N: Okay, this is very angsty and somewhat depressing in places. I only wrote it because it was forcefully banging around in my head, so sorry to those of you who want me to update Eternal Man. There is NO LISA whatsoever, and no Janto (in this story, but watch out for the sequel). There is some slight Gwen-bashing, a hint of Doctor-bashing (it's mostly angst driven) and Jack-suffering. I'd also like to add that I never give God a gender, and there is a reason, but I'll explain later, for now: Enjoy!

Earth Angels: The Beginning

Hello, my name is Captain Jack Harkness, but it hasn't always been. My lives have been complex, confusing and horrific sometimes, but I always push on, because I am an Angel. Well, an Arch-Angel really, and it is what God asks of me.

Before I became Captain Jack Harkness, before I was even born as the man who changed his name to Captain Jack Harkness, I lived in a beautiful place. The Ancient Greeks called it Elysium Fields, the Romans something similar. You call it Heaven. I call it Home, because that is truly what it is. Home.

Gods and goddesses, I haven't been Home in centuries, now. But then again, Home has become less a home to me now, than it was before my last 'fall'.

This is the story of how I 'fell'.

You see, Angels, especially Arch-Angels, don't fall. God doesn't let us fall: God forgives us if needs be. What humans refer to as falling is, in the eyes of the Angels, a blessing from God. Most Angels only receive this blessing once, twice maximum, in a millennia. And for Arch-Angels, the blessing is even rarer, almost never occurring. Well, for any Arch-Angel other than myself.

God has sent me into the Multiverse seven times. The first was before the humans evolved, when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, I had to protect them from an alien threat. I stood with my sword and shield and only my celestial know-how, and scared them off. I rode a pterosaur to them, naked as the day God made me-if not more so (I had no wings). The aliens ran, and I laughed. God brought me Home. I hadn't been born, that time, but God cannot send Angels into the universe in their true forms, so I had to 'fall'.

My second time into the universe was to Gallifrey; I was to observe the Time Lords and their practices. God worried about them. He gave me a Gallifreyan body; binary vascular system and everything. I managed to make it a law that the Time Lords were not allowed to go near, or stay near any species who would worship them as gods. I understood why: God hates being worshipped. God thinks it vulgar and humiliating, for both the worshippers and the worshipped. It seemed to me that God also considered those who encourage worship to be vulgar and dangerous. I find I agree.

The third time, I was born to a girl on Earth. I was informed by God that I was to change the minds of millions of humans, to stop practices such as sacrifice and stoning, and show to the world how to simply love. God said how Angels had been sent to foretell my coming. Then God apologised to me. I was to suffer untenable agony before I could return Home. I was named Jesus, and my life went as planned. I suffered death on the cross and was resurrected then later raised up by God. My mother, Mary, came with me. She was a truly blessed human; the first living human to be made an Angel.

God kept me close for a millennia after that, both of us were suffering, as we silently watched some humans twist my message. God tried to salvage it by sending other Angels to Earth as messengers, and that worked, mostly. God held me close as I dreamt about the crucifixion, and God's presence never left my mind, filling me with warmth and love daily. I spent time with Mary, Michael, Raphael, Ariel, Gabriel, Lucifer and other Angels that I'd grown close to, before God sent me to a different universe.

There, I kept my wings, as I was born on a planet of flyers. Well, I say I kept my wings, but really, I lost my entire form. Instead, I was a dragon. But I did have wings. My fight was against the humans of that Earth, they were hunting the dragons to extinction, so I was born, or rather, hatched in the company of a human boy, a princeling. Together we grew in secret, and when we were old enough, we flew around the Earth, Prince Kai-La riding on my back, teaching dragons and humans alike how to live in peace. I was killed protecting my prince from a band of men and dragons who refused to accept his rule and wisdom; wanting to resume the Man versus Dragon battle that raged for centuries. They had teamed up to destroy us. Ironic really, considering they had done so to prove that humans and dragons couldn't live and work together. My death proved them wrong, and I became a hero and legend in that world, not that I cared, except that Kai-La wasn't with me. We had become great friends. God was with me for a while after I got home. I knew, still know, how much God hates me dying. It's because we were the only two who had no life-mate. No forever-partner. God would most likely never find one, although he does love Mary, but like a daughter, more than a mate, and her true life-mate is Joseph.

My fifth time was many millennia later, I was sent to a small planet where the only sentient life was the planet itself. The animals and plants on the planets surface provided the planet with food. God sent me there to talk to the planet. It was lonely, but God knew that soon (a relative term at Home) a single being would land upon the planet and find a home and love with it. The being that would arrive would be running to escape danger, and be carrying children who would help populate the planet, providing an eternal connection for the lonely planet to revel in. I was allowed to stay and watch the spaceship arrive, and my breath was taken away by the beauty of Naxi-Mal, the being who would win the heart of a sentient planet. I had grown old, watching and waiting for the spaceship, that when Naxi-Mal stepped of the ship, Terra (as I'd casually named the sentient planet) sent a message of thanks and love as I died, disappearing in a flash of blue-white light.

My sixth time wasn't that interesting. I'd grown impatient, longing to find my life-mate, annoyed that God hadn't thought to create me one. Michael had Kathleen, one of the first Angels created. Gabriel and Lucifer had each other, as did Raphael and Ariel (who, contrary to popular belief, is actually a female- an extremely, stunningly gorgeous female). Other Angels had found their mate during their missions, or whilst at Home. However, God said there was no mate out there for me, and yet (again, contrary to popular belief) God does not see all, so we both held out hope. But I was frustrated. I was scared, too. I knew that God was hiding something from me, something that maybe wasn't fully understood by anyone. I spent my life travelling all over the universe, hunting for my mate, and by the time I reached the age of 120, I had not found him/her/it. And I died, I died alone on a spaceship in the depths of space. I arrived Home and was instantly swept into God's warm, loving embrace. I wept in God's arms, and was carried to bed, God had ignored all the curious, amused, outraged and saddened looks that were being cast our way. In bed, God had comforted me like a parent to their broken hearted child.

God stayed by my side for a while after that. I was lonely and lost. Centuries passed quickly and eventually God approached me with another blessing. "This is your seventh blessing, my son. I cannot see how this blessing will turn out. I fear it is the wrong thing to do. I fear I may lose you forever. So I make it your choice. Stay Home, or accept the blessing. Know I will love you forever, and if I can help you in your blessing, I will."

I looked into my beloved God's golden eyes and said "I will accept you blessing. I cannot go against fate, and must take the leap of faith. I will fall, for you, God, and for the Multiverse. Maybe I will find my mate whilst on this journey."

God had nodded sadly, we both had known that I would fall for my God, and in the hope of finding my mate. God then clasped my hand and pulled me to the chasm. I was pulled into a tight hug and kissed on the forehead before God said the ritual farewell "Take the leap of faith, my son, and fall to your destiny. Feel always my love and hear me in your heart. I will stay close by you, and will carry you Home when you rest once more, your task complete."

I remember the thrill of the fall as I closed my eyes and sent a cheeky 'I'll be back soon, God. Don't do anything I wouldn't whilst I'm gone.' God's laughter trailed down after me, and before I knew it, I was an embryo, safe inside my mother's womb.

I spent nine months growing, my only conversations were with God, through our telepathic bond. I recall my birth being uncomfortable, and I remember screaming my disapproval, I had been in the middle of a conversation when the doctors cut Mum open. My mind had reverted to that on an infant, albeit an intelligent infant. I was named Aoi Japheth (pronounced AH-oh-ee JAH-feth) and everyone called me A.J. They said Aoi was too much of a mouthful.

I was happy, growing up in the desert. It was a simple life, especially in 51st century standards. I lived on a colony world, a desert world, called Boeshane, and I lived by the sea, in a small town, on the Boeshane Peninsular. My family were happy. And when I turned four, Mum was heavily pregnant with my little brother. She almost died; as did Grey. I called out to God, asking to be able to save them, to heal them, and he granted my plea. I laid my small hands over Mum's full belly as blood flowed from her, and I sent my healing into her. The bleeding stopped and she gave birth to Grey Oshea, my baby brother. No one realised what had happened until the doctor had arrived, as Mum had gone into labour during the first attempted invasion. Papa told me to chose Grey's middle name, hence Oshea. I don't think any of the adults there understood, though.

I grew to the age of eleven with the threat of invasion hanging over the Peninsular. We had plans for safety if the invading aliens ever came, and one day, whilst Grey and I were out with Papa, they arrived, and Papa told us to run. He told me to take Grey and run, so I did. And we ran, and then I hid, but I realised Grey wasn't with me. I called for him, called for Papa, called for God to help me find them, and I searched for them, I tracked Papa to our home, and I found him dead. Papa was dead. Grey was gone. Grey Oshea, the little baby boy God helped save was gone. I had let go of his hand. Mum came as I knelt next to Papa, and her scream was pure torment. She wept bitterly for Papa, and then she noticed me, knelt crying silently. She looked for Grey, and unable to find him, she asked. I told her "He's gone. He was holding my hand, then he vanished. I can't find him."

Mum's world seemed to disappear as she wept and wailed and shrieked. Eventually, Uncle Lapis found us, and he pulled me away from Papa and Mum. He carried me to his home and returned to fetch his sister and late brother-in-law. Uncle Matthias, Uncle Lapis's husband, sat beside me and pulled me into a hug. He was the first person to try telling me that it wasn't my fault.

I curled up into his warm comfort and fell asleep, numb with shock and grief. I awoke on Sam's bed: Sam was my best friend and only cousin; Uncle Matthias had carried him, and given birth to him mere days after Mum gave birth to me. When I looked around, I saw Uncle Lapis in a chair beside me, asleep. I shook him, and he startled away, looking at me with confusion before he remembered and said "A.J., I am so sorry. I found her too late. She followed Ancient tradition. Sh…she…she's…she's gone. She killed herself whilst I was bringing you here. There was nothing anyone could do. She had somehow managed to get cyanide, and poison herself." He wept brokenly, and I realised how much I needed to do. I was eleven years old developmentally, but I could access millennia of Angelic life, and in that moment, I knew that those around me were more important. In my head, I could feel God's love and pride fill my numbness, and so I shifted towards my uncle, and I sat in his lap, wrapping my arms around him in a hug. I cried with him, and for him, and by the end, we were both tired, but our grief was diminished slightly. Uncle Lapis looked at me and said "Thank you, son. You are always welcome in our house."

I smiled and said "I'd like to stay, for a while, at least."

So I stayed, and my uncles became my fathers, and I gained a brother in my best friend and cousin. For four years, I lived with Dad (Uncle Lapis) and Pops (Uncle Matthias), and, although we still lived under threat, the town remained safe. However, on my fifteenth birthday, Pops, Sam and I were inside, celebrating and waiting for Dad's return when they invaded. The three of us hid in the secret hidey-hole Dad had built after Papa, Mum and Grey were gone. I worried about Dad being out there, flashes of Papa's body racing through my mind, but Pops calmed me, and Sam held my hand tight. God's love pervaded my mind, along with deep sorrow and anguish. 'It was too late, my son. Your Dad is here, with me now. He says sorry, and he loves the three of you.'

I howled in anguish before God even finished speaking to me, and Pops drew me into his chest, stifling my cries. He rocked me, telling me everything was going to be fine. Sam rubbed soothing patterns on my back as I was rocked, and I gradually calmed down, pulling away from Pops to say "But he's gone, like Papa. Dad's gone. God told me."

Pops and Sam also began to cry, muffled tears of sorrow, and we sat, in the cold dark hidey-hole, on my fifteenth birthday, mourning the loss of a loved one. Pops broke after that. We found Dad's body and gave him an appropriate burial. He had saved a group of base-school children, but in doing so, was spotted and the invaders tried to capture him. He fought to distract them from the children, and died to save them. Pops buried himself in rebuilding the town, creating hidey-holes in all the schools, shops, homes and library, he then built a super-secret underground lair in the Gathering area, for those who were there during an attack. As Pops did this, Sam turned fifteen, and we both made plans to run away together, to join the army. We had to stop the invaders before anyone else was killed.

Six months later, during a big Gathering that was being held to celebrate Pops' success in completing his project, Sam and I slipped away, unnoticed. We left a note explaining ourselves to Pops, and said we'd come home in ten moon-cycles. It was the stupidest decision of our lives, and it cost Sam his.

We were captured by the enemy, an enemy who torture and kill for the joy of it. They looked at me, and then at Sam, Sam had a broken wrist, and I'd bandaged it as best I could. They then tied me to a post, ensuring I couldn't close my eyes by using two small, metal contraptions. Then they stood Sam, my brother and best friend and cousin, in front of me, and ordered him to strip. They raped him repeatedly, him crying in shame and fear, begging them to stop, begging me to stop them. I tried to look away, but they had made sure I couldn't. God tried to smother my mind in love and courage, but I was too scared, too angry, and when the rain began, the enemy stopped their rape and tied Sam up in front of me, leaving him naked, they set up a tent. I knew the rain was God's attempt at stopping them, but it hadn't worked. I also knew that God would only have been able to make it rain here, in the desert, if sorrow was the strongest emotion being felt at the time. That God was crying at Sam's pain and my pain made me furious. All I could think was Who do these men think they are. How dare they hurt my God and my Brother in this manner. And then I shifted, for a moment. I became more Angel than human, and my avenging fury gave me strength. The enemy were too busy torturing my brother to notice as I broke free of my bonds and grasped the air, drawing my sword from it's scabbard with my mind, and forcing it through the abyss into my hand. I stood there, my hand-and-a-half sword in one hand and retribution and vengeance in my heart, and God's love in my mind, and I bellowed in my Angelic voice "I am Nurya, Arch-Angel of God, Bearer of Iâtân. Release my brother and no harm shall be done to you."

They laughed. The bastards just laughed at me. Then they turned back to Sam, and my fury broke past my walls. "Admoneo ignorare voluisti, nunc perire!" (Latin for 'You have chosen to ignore my warning, now die!') And I attacked them, my Angelic strength pushing to the fore as I killed the men who had tortured my brother and made my beloved God, my heart's true parent, weep in sorrow and anguish. I was finished quickly, and began to collapse, the Angelic strength leaving me as I returned Iâtân to his scabbard. Looking up at Sam as I was collapsing, I could see he was leaving me. I stiffened my spine, and, pulling the knife from my boot, I cut him down and held him as he cried in pain, death slowly claiming him. "Love you, Sam. Give God, Papa, Mum and Dad a hug for me, eh?"

"What 'bout Grey?"

"I have to believe he's still alive, and one day, I'll find him. I will, then we can be together again, together at Home, with God and all my Angelic siblings."

"What's it like? Home?"

"It's beautiful, and peaceful. The Angels have pure white wings, and the Arch-Angels have white wings with flecks of golden feathers. God's wings are the most beautiful, they're pure gold, like the colour of the sun and sand and stars mixed into one. And the non-Angels in heaven, they fly on specially designed motorbikes, you know the type of thing, two wheels, loud engine. Pops said we weren't allowed near one. It's amazing there. You will eventually find your mate, and it doesn't matter if they lived in a parallel universe, or just a different world, you will find them. And you can see you family- you can't watch your living family, but everyone you've ever lost is up there, waiting."

"Sounds…wonderful."

"It is, Sam. It's wonderful and beautiful and Home. So you close you're eyes. Close your eyes, Sam, and fly Home. Fly to my beloved God and be free of fear."

"Bye…Aoi…Japheth…love…you."

"I love you too, Sam Caerulus. Goodbye."

I had lost my brother, and my parents, and my uncle, and then my cousin, all before I could be counted as an adult. I was angry at the Multiverse, how could it expect me to want to go on. All I wanted was to curl up against God's chest and weep for the pain and anguish. I knew that I couldn't allow this level of suffering to continue. God may not be able to change things here, and I may not in Angelic form, BUT I could change whatever I wanted in my human form. I had 100 years left, I approximated. 100 years, considering the climate on different planets, and in different times, and considering the abilities of both my human body and my celestial mind.

That was when I joined the Time Agency. I was partnered with Jason Henry, and we both were seen as rebels, the two most ruthless Time Agents going. I was with the Agency for ten years…twelve actually, I guess, when I woke to find two years of my memories gone, stolen. I was furious. What had I done? Why were they taken? Who were responsible? I left the Agency, went rogue. I stopped in my village one last time, to say bye to Pops, and found out he was dead, killed during the two years the Agency stole from me. I knew it was the Agency because I found a note stashed in my secret place, it was from myself, and said that I hadn't done anything bad, but I'd been investigating and found out how truly bad the Agency was. There was a mention of Pops and someone called Seth, and a brief 'Now, RUN!' added on the end.

So I ran, and I became a conman, changing my name several times, trying to earn money so I could save people. And, then, I met the Doctor, or rather, I caught Rose, then met the Doctor, as Captain Jack Harkness. We managed to save the world after the idiotic con I tried to pull, and then I went travelling with them. The Doctor may not know it, but he is one of God's favourite world-protectors, because he doesn't differentiate between species and times, he just sees something that is wrong or evil, and deals with it. And that's what he taught me to do. He showed me how to save both the huge population and the single person, and he showed me the importance of having that ability. And when I thought he had run out of thing to teach me, he showed me how sacrifice myself and/or others - sometimes thousands of others - to prevent Multiverse-wide extinction.

I was prepared and slightly relieved when the dalek shot me. I would be able to return to God's waiting arms, to my families' smiling faces, to peace and happiness and safety, and to love. I felt my presence beginning to solidify at Home, and could see God's smiling face getting into focus, then everything went black and, what seemed like an eternity later, I awoke, surrounded by dalek dust, with the familiar whirr of the TARDIS fading into the background. I screamed one word 'Doctor!' but he didn't return, he left me after being pulled away from Home. I told him once, no matter what, if my heart stops beating for more than twenty seconds, to never try to bring me back. The agony of being pulled away from Home is unbearable. But he did it, or he allowed it to be done. He was the one person I trusted my secret to since Sam, and he left me. He left me after breaking his word.

I helped with the clean-up operation, but was executed then dumped, for not having any form of ID. I didn't even get to see Home before I resurrected. I wept, and God's mental touch soothed me. Programming my slightly damaged vortex manipulator, I hopped to where I thought would be the 21st Century, Cardiff. Hoping the Doctor would stop to refuel whilst I hung around, but the coordinates were off by over a hundred years. I sank into a depression and began drinking. Then Torchwood caught me. They tortured me for information regarding the Doctor, but I had non. They also killed me several times, and experimented on me, wanting to know what I was. I told them nothing. I honestly didn't have the answer.

Eventually, they grew bored and bullied me into accepting a job with them. I did, after much deliberation, and conversing with God. I had stashed money away in different times during my conman days, and also managed to keep the documentation with me – you really don't want to know. I knew this was it. I could help all the rift-refugees. I could keep them safe from Torchwood, offer housing and jobs even. I could offer care to those damaged by the rift. I could become what I had wanted to, all those years ago, knelt next to Sam's dead body.

I worked almost around the clock, never taking a break, always one step ahead of my co-workers. Hopefully, they didn't notice how the tech. they found was only useless junk, or non-dangerous items such as weaponry, and how the only aliens they came into contact with were dangerous, the variety that were overly aggressive. I bought several houses for the rift-refugees, and then several more, and rented them out to ordinary humans. I bought an island, little place called Flat Holm, and I built a special med-care home for the people, humans and aliens alike, who were damaged by the rift, and by 1900, I earned more money in a month than Torchwood 3 received per annum, as I owned retail, including hotels and restaurants, all over Cardiff, and some even further out.

Then, in 1901, I met Elizabeth Grace Holmes. I fell deep and fast, and by 1903, we were married and had a newborn son, Peter John Harkness. I explained my job as best I could to Lizzie, and we were happy. In 1908, Peter was five, we had a three year old daughter called Emily Rose, and Lizzie was eight months pregnant with our third child. She died during childbirth, but our son, James Michael, survived. I took holiday leave for a week, and found a Nanny I could trust them with. She was called Charlotte, and was about seventeen, but she could handle my three and her two-month-old, Eleanor, just fine. I found her on the street, trying to protect Ellie from a scared canine-like alien that had fallen through the rift. I'd offered her the job instantly.

In 1913, I sent the five of them into the countryside, to live. I sent Lottie money regularly, and visited every Saturday. In 1914, World War One began, although it was referred to as 'The Great War', a name I despise. There is nothing great about war.

In 1917, God sent feelings of sorrow and love and regret into my mind, I worried but did not comprehend, I ignored the bad feeling that was building up, until I received a call from the police in the village near where my family were living. Apparently six bodies needed to be identified. I felt my heart plummet, and I raced to them as quickly as possible. Laid out in a row were six bodies. The first was I didn't recognise, and Lottie would have told me if anyone was meant to be going to the house. Next to the stranger was little Lottie, shot in the chest, according to the coroner. She had been 26. Next, they pulled back a sheet to reveal my Peter. I chocked back a sob and caressed his still-youthful features. Gunshot wound to the chest. Bled out. He managed to shoot the stranger through the head before he died, he was too late to save anyone, though. Oh, my sweet Peter, he had been 15. I'd only begun to teach him to shoot, he'd gotten the perfect shot, in what must have been excruciating pain.

Next, they revealed my little girl. Emily's features were serene, and she looked exactly like her mother. Tears rolled unnoticed down my cheeks. Gunshot wound to the heart; quick, deadly, little to no pain was felt before she died. My twelve year old princess was gone. They pulled the last two sheets back at the same time, revealing the two nine year olds, who had been raised as twins. My baby boy, so still in death, had had my flair and energy in life. It felt wrong, seeing James so pale and still. Gunshot wound through the heart, same as Emily. And then dear shy little Ellie, the little girl Lottie had fought so hard to save, dead. Gunshot wound through her heart too. She may not have been biologically mine, but I had treated her like a daughter, and she had called me Papa Jack.

I knelt on the floor and wept, not caring that the police and coroner were stood there, uncomfortable and unsure how to react. God eventually soothed me, whispering how they were Home, Home with all my family, Home with my God. Home, where I longed to be.

I buried them a week later, giving Lottie and Ellie my name for the tombstone. All I put on the stone was:

Charlotte Jane Harkness, aged 26, Beloved daughter.

Peter John Harkness, aged 15, Beloved son.

Emily Rose Harkness, aged 12, Beloved daughter.

Eleanor Catryn Harkness, aged 9, Beloved daughter.

James Michael Harkness, aged 9, Beloved son.

Taken Home before their time,

Now safe with God,

Resting in peace.

It seemed simple, yet effective and truthful. And that was how I wanted it.

I grieved for my lost family and refused to fall in love and risk my heart again. I worked harder than before, only taking breaks to meditate and/or talk to God. I would sit atop the tallest roof possible and close my eyes and remember what it felt like to fly.

In 1937, I broke my promise, and fell in love once more. She was beautiful, my Estelle. Her eyes glittered bright, and her love for all things shined like a beacon in the darkest corners of my heart. She could temporarily heal all my past hurts just with a laugh, a smile, a song. We were together until the war broke out. I was 'called out' straight away. I changed my name to Captain James Peterson, and went out to help the French. I ended up spending the war as a British spy, working with the French resistance; codename: Angel.

The war ended, and I returned to Cardiff, changing my name back to Captain Jack Harkness. I returned to working as I had been, knowing I had missed around six years of important work. I was still rich and getting richer. My real estate acumen was covered up by fake companies and such the like that no one in this time period would be able to uncover. I began covering up my immortality also, and by 1960, only the head of Torchwood Three was privy to that information.

After Estelle, I made no promise to stay away from love, so when Lucia Moretti joined Torchwood, I happily agreed to explore a relationship with her. We married a year after she joined, and the next year, she gave birth to a baby girl. We named her Melissa, Melissa Harkness.

After Melissa had turned three, Lucia saw me die. Then she saw me resurrect. The next morning, she and Melissa were gone. I tracked them down and found out Lucia had changed their names. She was Mrs Lucy Jones, and her daughter was Alice Jones, father deceased. Knowing that I would cause more problems by approaching her, and that, next time, I may not be so lucky in finding them, I watch my baby girl grow up from a distance. As she got older, Lucia left Alice alone more often. It was at one of these times that I approached her. She was sat on a park bench, so I sat next to her. She hadn't realised who I was until she looked up. "Hey Alice." Was all I could think to say.

"How…how…how…?"

"How did I know, or how did I find you? I've known where and who you are since your Mam took you away from me. I watched you grow up, and all those secret birthday and Christmas cards and presents from your Nanny and Gramps were from me. My parents have been dead for years, if you follow my timeline."

"Why…what do you want?"

"I'm here to see you, Alice. It may not seem like it, but I do love you, and I am glad you're safe. I don't think I could bear to lose you like I lost your older half-siblings."

"Lose me? Older siblings?"

"Yes, I've had three, four maybe, biological children before you, and adopted two. I think my eldest was a son, Seth. He…I carried him, I think…my memories were stolen. I don't know what happened to him. Then was my adoptive daughter, Charlotte, my son, Peter, my daughter, Emily, and Charlotte's daughter and my second adoptive daughter, Ellie and James, my youngest son. Peter, Emily and James were full siblings, I had them with my late wife, Elizabeth, who died giving birth to James. I hired Charlotte, a single, unwed teenage mother, and she and her daughter became my daughters. They were all killed. James and Ellie were 9. That's why I left you and your mother alone. She's been right in telling you I'm not safe. Especially if you're a blood relative it seems."

"So why are you here then?"

"I miss you, and wanted to make sure you know just how much I love you, and also to tell you, I'm going to check up on you twice a year only from now on. So if you even need me, use this to call me."

I gave her a mobile phone, I'd made it, specially, and it would call my vortex manipulator, rather than a phone.

As the clock struck midnight, and the year turned 2000, Alex committed suicide. He had killed the rest of the team, and I was left to pick up the pieces. I took it as an advantage to break away from the Torchwood regime, and train new team members in my new Torchwood. It took me six months to find Suzie, and I believed she was too much the obvious choice, but I needed people soon, or Yvonne would sent her goons to me. I trained Suzie, but I didn't trust her, so I never told her about Flat Holm or the hotels and hostels.

In 2001, I heard of the tech. genius who'd been captured by UNIT. They owed me big time, and they didn't seem to be doing anything to Ms Toshiko Sato, except possibly trying to break her, so I gave her a 'get out of jail free' card. She began working for Torchwood, and I helped her settle into her role, mentoring her and making friends. We became close quite quickly, and I found myself telling her about Flat Holm, and other places that I owned. I saw her as a daughter. She was intelligent and sweet and caring. She could think so quickly I nearly lost her, and she had an almost celestial quality to her. I talked to God about Tosh, and whether she was an Angel, or even if this life was meant to make her an Angel. God's reply was short and slightly confused "She is not mine, but I wish she were. Her soul is as pure as yours, but she, like you, is broken. Maybe, I can only create and transform the unbroken into my Angels."

"But what about me?"

"You, Jack, my beloved son, you have broken over your vast life, and now, only your life-mate can heal you. But you are still my first Arch-Angel, my first Angel. You are still Nurya, my flame. So maybe it is up to you, as to what happens to the beautiful, broken Toshiko."

"I'll think on it, God. I must dash, however. It was lovely talking to you, oh my great and gorgeous creator."

"Go, Nurya, and spread your plan throughout the Multiverse like a wildfire through the forest." God finished with a chuckle. We've grown closer, both more able to tease the other now. But back then, although I flirted every now and then with God, I remained respectful and viewed God as my creator, my parent. Now, I see God as my best friend. The one person that I can fully rely on throughout my immortal, Multiverse-bound life.

A year after Tosh joined, I found the need for a doctor too great to delay any longer. So I looked through the records and files and, with Tosh's help, I found the perfect candidate: Doctor Owen Harper, fiancée: Katie Russell. I looked into both Owen and Katie's histories and found that Katie was experiencing symptoms that, to the observer in the know, looked to be an alien parasite. We really needed a doctor; we needed to catch these things a lot earlier. Maybe Katie would had survived, then.

I hired Owen, and helped him through his grief, he became the resident snark, but was a truly brilliant doctor. He was also just as broken as Tosh, and me, and Suzie, although I still didn't trust Suzie.

2005 came, and I sent Tosh off to London; Space-pig and all that. I had to stay away from the Doctor then, just like any future version of the Doctor knows they have to steer clear of me until they meet me again for the first time. Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey.

It was after that that I had to stop, physically at one point, my team going after the new Cardiff Mayor. I knew what was happening, and that the Doctor, Rose and my past self, my mortal self, could fix it. I stayed in the Hub as the place went to hell in a hand-basket, knowing that if the Doctor saw me now, he would create a paradox. Also knowing that if I bumped into any of them, Mickey-Mouse included, I would be severely tempted to plant the idea of killing my past self in their head. I kept the team with me, and we watched on CCTV as my past self, Rose and the Doctor, and yes, technically Mickey too, saved Cardiff. I ordered Tosh to contact builders etc. to deal with the broken Plass. I hadn't realised whilst travelling with the Doctor and Rose how badly it had been damaged by the Slitheen's failed plan.

My team had, at the time, been completely shocked at the revelation that I had travelled with the Doctor. Well, it was either that, or the revelation that I hadn't always worn my World War II get-up. I'm not sure which one shocked them more.

I admit, now, that I had had an argument with God; I wanted to see that version of the Doctor, saying screw the rules, but God, ever the rule follower, didn't let me. I did as asked, and didn't approach or interfere, but it hurt, and God knew that, so my mind was wrapped in love and a small bit of sorrow for the duration.

After the Doctor left, it was business as usual for several months. Until Christmas and the Sycorax. I had ordered Owen and Tosh stay with Suzie, who was stood on the roof of the Millennium Building, and I had driven to London, getting there in time for the ship to begin leaving, and heard over Torchwood One radios the command to fire, and that the Doctor had been present and had lost a hand, for which there was to be a huge hunt. I hunted for it myself, knowing I couldn't let Yvonne get hold of the Doctor's DNA, it was too dangerous. Luckily, I found it first, and I had packed it up and headed back to Cardiff. I knew that it was certain that if Yvonne knew I'd been in London, unofficially, she would have tried to hold me captive. She knew, like all the high-ups in Torchwood, that I had travelled with the ninth reincarnation.

Back in Cardiff, life continued as normal, until I was contacted by Yvonne, saying she had found something, and Ghostshifts would begin. I was furious, so I contacted Archie and together we demanded a meeting with Yvonne. It was too late though. The Cybermen broke through, and the Daleks left their void ship, and Canary Warf burnt down. I had to initiate a lockdown on the Hub to prevent my team from leaving during the actual battle. We also prepared to head for London. The team had wanted to go and fight the Cybermen and Daleks who littered our streets, but I said no. It was too dangerous. I needed them to be alive for the clear up and fall through, considering Torchwood One would finished by the end of the Battle. I wasn't extremely worried about Alice and little Stephen, as I'd told Alice to stay away from them, and built her a safe room in the house that she'd been renting form me since her good-for-nothing louse of an ex-husband left her. I just needed to keep Toshiko and Owen, and yes, even Suzie, safe.

Tosh, Owen and I left for London when Canary Warf burned, and we arrived and I took control of the situation. I had called Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, a close friend and also ex-Companion of the Doctor's, to get his UNIT minions to secure, but not touch, the site. When we arrived, there were twenty-six fully human survivors. I quietly ordered Tosh to take five of the survivors (all of whom were in suits, and mostly uninjured) to the Archives. She would need to override the lockdown that was specifically focused on the Archives. I called a lorry company based in London, and hired eight lorries to arrive in the next three hours. The lorries would, with UNIT and Torchwood protection, transport the most important alien tech. and artefacts in the archives, to Cardiff, where I'd have to finally find a new Archivist.

I then ordered Owen to inject all the half-converts with a lethal dose of whatever he had up his sleeve. He looked about to argue when I quietly explained that as soon as the conversion process begins, their humanity is removed, and in its place is a drive to convert, to upgrade, all non-Cybermen.

I then went down to help Tosh, who, even with the help of one of the suited Torchwood One guys, was struggling to break the lockdown. She needed a single code. Grinning wryly, I nudged her out of the way, and typed in the access code. The doors opened to reveal an injured man collapsed in the chair by the computer, unconscious. I quickly approached him, calling Owen to come quickly as I checked him out. He had a gunshot wound to his right shoulder, and had lost a lot of blood. Owen arrived and bandaged him up, saying that he would survive, before leaving to finish euthanizing the half-converted. I ordered Tosh and her five guys to get to ransacking the archives, but the Torchwood One guys stopped and one said "We can't. None of us have access to the electronic archives, let alone the real things. We were willing before because we all thought he was dead." He finished by pointing to the man in my arms.

"Who is he?" I asked.

"Ianto Jones, Head Archivist." A different man replied.

Nodding, I said "Fine, when Mr Jones awakes, we'll use him to sort the Archives. We will still need you to do the heavy-lifting. Tosh, can you send a copy of the entire electronic archives to the Hub, please."

"There's no need." A groggy Welsh voice said from my arms.

Letting go of the man, I asked "Why?"

"Already done, sir. I managed to send you the actual thing before I locked the archives down. I was shot by one of Yvonne's lackeys as I finished the shutdown."

"Good, it'll save us some trouble." I said before looking properly at the man in front of me. He was young, between twenty and twenty-five, but he was Head Archivist, which meant he was intelligent. He had black curly hair, cut short, and gorgeous blue eyes. His nose was pert and his lips perfect, kissable. He was lithe, not traditionally strong, but boy was he gorgeous! I shook my head to get rid of the thoughts, and God's amused chuckles. "So, now all we need to do is transfer the items from the secure archives and other important items to Cardiff. Think you can help?"

"I'll try, sir." Came his polite reply.

Nodding, I regretfully turned away, saying "I'll leave you all to it, then. Lorries will be here in two hours." I turned back to Ianto Jones and said "how would you like a job?"

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it.

Quick note to say, I hold the belief that God has no gender. Sure, God could chose to make Himself a male for a time, but then change Herself to female when She got bored, or even become It, or Shim, and that would be really confusing and difficult to follow, so I just refer to God as God, or a collective we, when Jack is thinking about both himself and God.

ANYWAY, Please review, and I'll post the sequel when it's written.

TTFN and DFTBA x