Chapter one:

John groaned, taking in the scene before him as he stepped through the time vortex. Death still clung to him form the last person he had killed, making him feel vile, unclean. And where did he end up? In the middle of fucking Cardiff! Of all the places on the planet for there to be a Rift, it had to be in Wales. Silently, John wondered if he would get killed for being here. Wait, no. The 21st century was when IRELAND was being rebellious. Wales still had another century or two. That reassurance made him feel just the slightest bit better. He was still in Cardiff, and he still smelled like corpses. Great. Brilliant way to start the night.

Over the deafening chatter of the city, he heard someone shout. Rolling his eyes, John followed the voice, standing – either intrigued or mildly disgusted, he wasn't sure which came to mind first – while two men apparently were getting in each other's pants on the side of a car.

'Isn't this supposed to be the year where… oh, no. that was with Clinton. But still… that's legal? What did the agency screw up this time?' He wondered, trying to recall exactly when homophobia had been outed as weird. Then, he saw the knife.

"I ain' Joking!" The man holding the knife practically begged. "Come any closer I'll open up his neck." John rolled his eyes for the third (and certainly not last) time that night.

'oh, for all the patience of the goddesses…'

The man pinned against the car looked surprisingly calm for someone who was about to have their throat torn out. John sighed, continuing to approach the pair. Why did it always have to be his job to clean up after the cops? Honestly?

"Fine." John shrugged. It wasn't his job to look after the inhabitants of whatever planet he found himself on. That was what got him in trouble in the first place. The man's eyes went wide, his rouse completely dropped.

"WHAT?"

"Which artery do you normally sever?" John asked nonchalantly, already having several good answers come to mind. The carotid artery would be the quickest, but it would leave one hell of a mess on whatever poor saps car it was. Jugular vein would leave a smaller puddle, but that would also take longer to die from. Or, he could just snap his neck. No blood, no weapon… yeah. Broken neck would be the best way to go about it.

"I ain' bluffin'!" The Welsh brat continued to fake, though it was pretty blatantly obvious that he had no intention of harming the other man.

"Now, you see," John finally spoke, having gotten tired of the kids whining. "I can tell you're bluffing right there." Now that he was closer, he could tell that the pair were just teens. Did they ever learn to not screw around? Then again, he hadn't been exactly the model student either, but that wasn't Entirely his fault. The kid next to him in languages had honestly been asking for it. It wasn't his fault that the place they picked happened to be the Janitors closet. Mostly.

"Only someone who isn't serious would say they were more than once. So…" John grabbed the kid by the throat, pulling him off his feet, "You really weren't going to hurt him, were you?" The boy gasped, trying to breathe around John's solid grip. He shook his head, terror branding itself over him like a label. That fear was just enough to pull back John's mental restraints, letting out the one thing he had just barely been able to keep in check. The dissatisfied clawing at the back of his mind grew more prominent, with the potential of ending another beings life placed in his hands. John snarled internally, but the desire just would not subside. Slowly, painfully, it took control of his movement.

John became nothing more than a side show attraction as his body became fully controlled by his other half. The darker, scarier side of John hart – the part of him that never had problems with doing just what the agency asked of him, and finding himself unable to regret it.

"Now, you shouldn't make threats like that, unless you're really able and willing to follow it through." John hefted the boy up, dangling him over the edge of the building. Carelessly, he glanced down towards the sidewalk, yards beneath the man's feet.

"Please." The Kid gasped, struggling to keep from slipping out of John's grasp. "Please. I swear, it was just a joke. Promise. We won't do it again. Just put me down!"

John paused, considering this for a second. Then, he let go. The boys limp body impacted the concrete below him, ending the scream that had just started to fill the air. Coldly, John watched the broken body lying on the pavement for a few moments, the blood trickling out from beneath the corpse, the pure look of terror permanently ingrained in the boy's features.

Immediately, John's body reacted. He gasped, leaning back against the wall for support. Weakly, he pressed his arm into his stomach, afraid to let it slip to the real origin of the pain. He had been expecting this. The pain, the sudden reaction of his body. There was always pain, no matter what. But this time, it was minor. It was the kind of pain he could deal with.

Rolling up his sleeve, John snapped out a knife. He had to… he needed to know.

After three, the ache in his lower body had subsided, dissipating.

John sniffed, swallowing the bile rising from his stomach back, along with his tears. There was one person he would have gone to in the past when this happened, but he had been abandoned. He didn't need any other explanation, other than he wasn't wanted.

As if sensing what he needed, a small light on his VM began flashing. John stared, amazed at the pattern that emerged. It couldn't be… He was supposed to be dead. His locator had disappeared, there was no way. Not Right here. Not in the bloody 21st century. No Bloody Way…

And yet the pattern continued to flash, signaling one thing-

He had found Jack.