Interesting thought that just came to me one night before falling asleep. What if Jack met Tim?
The year was 1915. It was the midst of the Great War. In three decades time, it would be known as World War I, prequel to the second War.
It had started with a big "bang!" Just like the universe. A man was shot. Not just any man. The heir to the Austria-Hungarian throne. Human nature took care of the rest. Anger, revenge, loyalty.
There was also another man. Ordinary by the looks of it. Lived, worked, ate, slept. Just like everyone else. His name was Jack Harkness. Captain Jack Harkness. Of course, the war was his time to dutifully earn the title of "captain." He worked for Torchwood, against his will. He knew what Torchwood was like. He knew from the first time he'd met Alice and Emily. He could be locked up like a zoo animal for all they cared.
But he was valuable. He couldn't die. They would use an agent like that.
And that was how Torchwood gained a loyal operative.
The year was 1915. Jack was quietly laughing to himself at the prospect of the aging Emily and Alice. They looked older. A lot older. In fact, thirty plus years over. It took a while for him to persuade them to let him fight in the war. At last he pulled the trump card of "I'm-from-the-future-and-there's-supposed-to-be-something-alien-in-the-war."
The year was 1915 and Captain Jack Harkness was dying.
After he had joined the army, he immediately rose in the ranks to captain. Soon, he had his own men. They were gathered around campfire one night when Jack learned the name of a very intriguing boy. He held a fob watch in his hands at all time, even when fighting. His name? Timothy Latimer. Young and innocent.
But the eyes told a different story. It was always the eyes. Jack dismissed it shortly.
It wasn't until one month later when Jack caught Timothy staring at him around campfire again that the captain found the need to talk to the boy. "Good evening Latimer."
"Good evening Captain," Timothy immediately replied with as much respect as he could muster.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes sir," the boy answered.
"Tell me about yourself boy."
And so Timothy did. He tried to skip over the parts about the adventure he had at his school, only saying that the headmaster "called in a doctor to help the students."
The conversation went on for a bit before Jack ran out of things to ask. He promptly left the boy there. The only reason Jack had approached him in the first place was because he felt the mind scrabbling around in his, trying to read him. Latimer was an interesting boy. Born with an extra synaptic engram. Interesting and different. It made Jack a bit better to know that there were other unordinary people out there.
Three months after that, Jack knew that they were going to be ambushed.
"Run!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Get the hell out of here!"
Wide-eyed, the young men ran for their lives. In truth, that was cowardice but their captain had made them swear to obey his every command, even if it meant acting like a coward. Because Jack knew these young men. They had a life in front of them. He wasn't about to led bloodshed take that away from them.
In the end, Jack sustained a broken arm, bullet holes to the leg and fractured ribs. Nothing big really. He could heal from that easily, but how was he going to explain that to his squad?
As he lay on his deathbed, he looked at his first officer. "Bring in Latimer," the immortal ordered. The first officer quickly ran out of the tent and fetched the boy. He then quickly left the two alone to console the other squad members.
"Timothy Latimer," Jack grinned. "You are a wonder, you."
"Thank you sir." Timothy looked down at his fob watch.
Jack nodded at the silver timekeeper. "Where'd you get that from?" he asked.
"School sir."
"Made out of silver?"
"I should think so sir. Yes."
Jack shook his head and chuckled. "Not at all. Not silver. Not iron or steel. Nothing from his planet." He glanced over at Timothy's bewildered face. "Want me to tell you were that is from? Gallifrey." The name definitely meant something to the young boy as his eyes flickered in recognition to the name. "Combined with rocks from Midnight." Jack couldn't help but laugh again. "You've been trying to read my mind," Jack accused teasingly. Still, Timothy kept his façade.
"With all due respect sir, you're injured. I don't know what-"
Jack smiled. "Oh, but I think you do." He turned his head and looked into the boy's eyes. "You've meet the Doctor." Timothy's eyes widened again. "I've met him too," Jack explained. "I traveled with him. But that was decades ago. Lifetime ago. Different man back then."
"What happened?" The soldier was eager to learn more.
"I can't die," Jack revealed. Timothy cocked his head in confusion. "I was traveling with the Doctor and Rose. We were saving the world and something happened. He abandoned me. But now, I can't seem to die anymore."
"But that's brilliant isn't it?" Timothy inquired. "You can stay and lead us to fight."
Jack shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry. I can heal from all this, but even the strongest mortal man can't completely recover from injuries from this. If I'm up and walking around in a few days with no scars or anything, people will notice. I tend to want to keep my immortality a secret."
"But sir, how will we-"
"You'll manage. I know you Timothy Latimer. Anyone who's touched the Doctor can't get through even the hardest times. I've injected myself with a poison. My wounds will stop healing until the poison gets out of my system. It'll put me in a coma for one week. It will seem like I'm dead. That's more than enough to get my body back to Torchwood. They'll transfer me under a fake name to another squad. I'll still be fighting, just not with you."
"Torchwood sir?"
"Alien fighting group funded by the Crown, but you didn't hear that from me. Mind you, that lot aren't very friendly or considerate. One day, when that team's mine, I'll set things straight. For the Doctor."
Timothy studied the Doctor's fob watch silently. "When I first met the Doctor," he explained, "at school, he was my teacher." Jack smiled mentally at the picture of the Doctor being a school teacher. "He saved my life. Saved the whole school's life. Then he just left."
"He does that," Jack agreed.
"And he gave me this." Timothy held up the timekeeping device. "I saw the war once. A snippet of my future. We'll be in no-man's-land. Hutchinson and I. The Germans will the dropping bombs. We're supposed to die."
"But now you know. And now you can stop it from happening." Suddenly, Jack erupted into a huge coughing fit. "Looks like that poison's setting in."
"Will I ever see you again?"
"Of course." Jack smiled weakly and laid his head down on the sorry-excuse for a pillow. "You'll never know where you'll find me."
With that, Timothy watched as the captain's chest stopped rising.
- - - - - - - -
Timothy Latimer was an old man and ever since that day in 1915, he hadn't once heard or seen from Captain Jack Harkness again. He was eighty-seven years old and wheelchair ridden. Wrinkles covered his face. Grey hair flowed from his head.
And he still had that fob watch.
It was Armistice Day. A day set aside by the British to honor those who'd fought and died bravely in battle in the First World War. Every single time, Timothy would gaze at the list of those honorable men and every single time his eyes would fall upon a certain three words. Cpt. Jack Harkness. His fellow squad men thought that he was dead, but Timothy knew better.
Still, it had been all these years. Maybe Jack Harkness wasn't immortal. Maybe he really did die.
The service had ended and his family was busy scrambling about with other acquaintances. Timothy was left alone in the corner. He closed his eyes, resting his heavy eyelids. He could feel someone walk up to him, but he ignored it. Must just be his son coming to wheel him to the car.
Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hello there soldier," a voice greeted. God, Latimer hadn't heard that voice in ages.
The old man opened his eyes and there stood another man, wearing a RAF coat. He looked the same as he did that day long ago in 1915. "Captain," Timothy breathed.
Jack raised his hand in an honorable salute. Timothy raised three fingers and did they same. Jack smiled and Timothy did the same. Seventy years, give or take a few, and the Captain still remembered this London school boy.
"It was an honor," Jack stated solemnly.
One hour later, Timothy's son would ask who that was and the old acquaintance of the Doctor's would just merely smile and say, "An impossible man."