Disclaimer: I do not and never will own Torchwood or the characters within.
Characters: Jack Harkness
Note: Written for the 2011 Advent Challenge. Prompt #11taken from the 2010 prompt list.
Author's Note: and so finally this is the last fic in the 25...
Summary: Jack in the trenches
The guns fell silent and Jack Harkness let his head drop. It was so quiet for a moment he thought he could hear the snow falling. He studied his feet ankle deep in the muddy slush and wondered if he’d ever feel his toes again. Goddess but he hated trench warfare.
Last Christmas there had been a brief ceasefire and he and his men had joined the enemy in No Man’s Land and sung carols. Not this year. This year he was too cold and too weary. They all were and the dreams of being home for Christmas this year had long since died. For Jack the only ceasefire he got these days was the brief respite that death gave him.
“Hun’s are moving again,” someone whispered and Jack nodded without speaking. He could feel the rumbling through the ground as well. Ripples disturbed the puddles around his feet.
“Need you and your men to cover the retreat, Harkness,” the Captain’s toneless voice said more than his words did and Jack nodded again.
He took a deep breath and straightened up. With a few hand signals half a dozen of his men were at his side and he began trudging through the mud back to where the sound of guns had begun again.