Title: Intimate Encounters of the Third Kind
By: sqyd
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: M – swearing, sexual references
Characters: Jack, OMFC, Ianto, team
Word Count: 3270 – or so
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just borrow them.
Spoilers: All 3 seasons, but pretty vague
Notes: This Crack!Fix!Fic is a fluffy bunny that jumped out at me from the shrubbery and kept on hopping.
Summary: Captain Jack Harkness is being stalked.
A/N: Thanks to Rootesie for beta and encouragement!

I first met Captain Jack Harkness in Paris. I was sitting at a small sidewalk café, trying to order a coffee in French. My French is poor, but I was making an effort. It was not appreciated. The waiter was looking down at me like I just crawled out of the sewer.

I was about to give up when the man sitting at the next table swiveled around and offered assistance, which I accepted with relief.

He flashed a blinding smile at the waiter and they started a conversation in French of which I didn't understand a word, but it seemed far more than just a simple exchange concerning caffeinated beverages. By the time he finally scuttled away, the waiter had an actual smile on his face. It was a peculiar sight.

The man turned back to me, large hand outstretched. We shook and introduced ourselves. He was gorgeous, tall, well-built, dark hair, cleft chin, improbably blue eyes. Impulsively I invited him to join me and he accepted.

He settled, leaned back in his chair and immediately looked comfortable. Nervously, to make conversation, I started jabbering about the economy of traveling pre-season, avoiding the crowds. He was just looking at me with a half smile.

"So, what have you seen so far?" He asked, leaning back further, and crossing his arms under his tilted-back head. He looked decidedly cat-like, muscles lazily stretched out, half-lidded eyes sparkling with calm amusement, and with a touch of hungry mixed in. I suddenly felt like something small and fuzzy, and possibly appetizing. I babbled on about churches, the Eiffel Tower and museums and all that touristy stuff.

He laughed and asked if I wanted to see the real Paris.

He showed me courtyards that must have looked the same for hundreds of years, the simple stand that sold the best crepes in the world. We walked down on streets that no tourists have ever trod. We stopped at a bistro that had no menu, only great food.

It was twilight and we were walking down a moonlit alley. It was then and there that he turned and with a slow but deliberate move pressed me against the wall and we kissed. It was smutty and irresistible, and he tasted and smelled incredible. His whole body pressed against mine, and that was a good thing, because my knees went weak, and I had to cling to him, and oh FUCK.

“I know this charming little hotel just around the corner.” He murmured into my neck.

The hotel indeed had a rustic charm, a little bit worn and faded, but not yet shabby. The receptionist wordlessly handed the Captain a key, and made a poor effort of hiding a smirk. It was dawning on me that things might have been less coincidental as they seemed at first. I didn't know if I cared. He pulled me into the elevator.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were already staying here?” I asked him somewhat indignantly.

“You didn’t ask.” He replied with a wide and filthy grin, pulling me close.

Smug bastard, I thought, I’ll make him pay. And that was my last coherent thought for the night.

********************

"Son of a $@#%$#% Nostrovite!" - Was the first coherent thought I had the next morning when I realized that Captain Smug slipped out before dawn. All that was left was a hand written note, letting me know that the room was paid for and that I could take my time checking out. I didn't.

I retraced our steps from the day before, but there was no sign of him. I knocked about in Paris for a week, but didn't run into him again. He probably wasn't even in the country any more, and it was also time for me to return to North America.

********************

At every quadronats (approximately 52 Earth days) I had to transmit my research report to my superiors at the Cuanong Hadragon Intergalactic Environmental Research Institute (CHIERI) - in person, from the research base itself. The base was at a place the locals called "Arizona". A Domalithien mining ship had crashed here once upon a time, possibly leaking fuel - and whatever space junk it was carrying - into the ground. I had been sent to conduct a field analysis on its effects on the local environment. What a load of bullshit! The crash had happened 50,000 earth years ago; whatever the effects had been, they had been buried in the past. The instruments doing the actual testing were fully automated and virtually indestructible. My presence on this crappy excuse of a planet was completely unnecessary.

Life is blindingly unfair. I once had been a rising star at CHIERI. My paper, The Alpha-Beta-Gamma Rays' Effects on Arcadian Water Daisies had been praised as "brilliant scientific discovery", "a truly original piece of work". So how did I end up manning a one-person "research" project on a backwater planet, several galaxies away from the lowliest, grimiest space port? Bonking all three of the co-partners of the head of CHIERI will do that to you. Cuanong Hadragon, XIII was - and undoubtedly still is - a vindictive person.

I could have had no way of knowing who those three exquisite green-skinned creatures were when I met them at the hotel bar. It was a big conference on Vega, and after a day of presentations I just needed to blow off some steam. I could hardly be blamed for agreeing to join those three "for a nightcap" in their suite. Orions are pretty much irresistible to begin with. To cut the story short, half a quadronat later I found myself at the armpit of the Universe.

The bloody base was in a bloody desert. The local sentient life form was barely civilized, and I was not supposed to make contact with them anyway. I was despairing. I was doing just about anything to chase away the boredom. For years, I amused myself making crop circles around the planet. It was fun till the locals started imitating.

********************

The second time I met Captain Jack Harkness was in London. He didn't recognize me, of course - I was wearing a different body. The Captain seemed to be in an awful hurry; I could barely distract him long enough for a quick shag in an alley before he sped off. No matter, I had his scent, and I wouldn't lose him again.

********************

Being a shapeshifter can be fun and advantageous. Taking up the physical shape of another creature is not very hard. Not for me anyway. The complicated bit is blending in, displaying the appropriate behavioral patterns, for any extended period of time. There are so many nuances to social interactions, even among primitive species. Try explaining that to a Nostrovite - no wonder they have such short life expectancy. Being moderately telepathic helps.

********************

The third time, I didn't actually meet Captain Jack Harkness. It occurred to me to 'study' him for a bit, but that almost turned into a disaster. I not only couldn't read his mind at all, but he clearly was aware that I tried to. I scatted before he could have figured out who it was. What I was. Clearly, he was different, and I was intrigued.

********************

Unlike Plasmavores, my kind doesn't need to destroy the person we copy, and that's a big plus. Leaving dead bodies around tends to attract attention. Of course, I couldn't fool a medical scanner, but that is hardly an issue on such unsophisticated planet as this.

This is how it would go: I study my target from a relatively close, but not too close distance. I memorize their look, body language, study their behavior, basic brain patterns. Humans are pretty simple, and it didn't take me too long till I could mimic them almost perfectly. Of course it's one thing to take a body, essential social skills and pass among those who don't know your original. It's another thing to pass among those who know the one you copied. It’s generally unnecessary, and potentially risky to do, but makes the game far more exciting. It takes time and practice, but time I had plenty of.

********************

The fourth time I met Captain Jack Harkness was when it finally clicked together. I didn't notice the wrist strap during our first encounter – maybe he hadn’t worn it, maybe I had been too distracted to notice. Our two subsequent encounters hadn’t involved sufficient nudity.

I was a petite blonde this time, with disproportionately large mammary glands – ‘racks’ in the local vernacular. With looks like that I only had to place myself in the path of the Captain Gorgeous’ natural trajectory to land us both in a state of complete nakedness. That's when I understood that I was not dealing with one of the locals, but a genuine Time Agent. The realization made my head spin. Fantastic sex was one thing, fantastic sex with a bona fide time traveler, was a whole other thing. This changed everything.

*******************

Duplicating scent is the hardest thing, and I rarely bothered with it. I had a few stock scents, both male and female, and used those over and over with slight variations. I topped it off with perfume or aftershave, and that was it.

*******************

The 5th time I met Captain Jack Harkness, we were in Cardiff. He was working for some super secret (yeah right!) organization, protecting the planet from alien threat. (Oh the irony!) It didn't fully explain why he stayed so long at one place, one time, but it was not a subject easily broached in everyday conversation. Or even in post-coitus pillow talk. Captain Charming had a remarkable talent for chattering without saying anything at all.

*******************

The plan was simple; I would seduce the Captain, have him open up, then use my womanly (or manly) wiles to convince him to leave this place and time together for good. If I could maneuver him to the right temporal and spatial spot before my fall from grace, I could prevent it from happening. Meanwhile, we could also shag our way across the Universe. It was a good plan - in theory. In practice there were a few problems. The seduction part was easy, the part after it was perplexingly complicated. Pinning the damn bastard down was harder than hugging a Hoix.

*******************

The 53rd time I met Captain Jack Harkness was after a lot of careful preparation. I looked stunning, carefully studied and copied a personality that had the males of the species enthralled. I even arranged to have a flat for convenience. I managed to hang on to Captain Evasive for three whole weeks.

!!!!!!#*+*&%^$$@!@!^&%&$^^#%$^%^%$^%#%^$ ^!!!!!!

*******************

I had to be careful with the telepathy stuff. My kind isn't exactly compatible with humans in this area. Humans are viciously primitive in this respect, and that could prove dangerous. They were full of extraneous bits; the pointless cul-de-sac of their digestive system, superfluous teeth, etc. – all useless, but potential sources of trouble. Their minds had a sub-basement where they were cramming down all the messy, nasty junk they should have just discarded, like advanced races do. Humans though, they couldn’t throw anything away, so they were hiding them, shoving them into dark corners . Naturally, the stuff kept seeping out, and I felt their corrosive power every time I touched their minds. Alas, I had to keep on doing it.

*******************

I tried everything from sluttish to virginal - it made no difference. I tried hard to get - I ended up not getting any. I was running through the whole catalog of the human race, mixing and matching looks and behaviors like a mad interior (ulterior?) designer. All I learned was that Captain Lewd was indiscriminating and noncommittal. I was getting incredibly irritated and it adversely affected my performance. There was a lot of steamy, angry sex, that was actually quite invigorating, but it was not getting me any closer to my goal. I had to take a break, regroup, rethink the plan.

*******************

The 176th time I met Captain Jack Harkness I was tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed. The Captain's tastes were all-encompassing, but even he had a type, as I finally figured out. Something was wrong though. When I 'accidentally' bumped into the good Captain I was awarded the customary appreciative once-over, but it was not followed by the usual flirt-and-shag routine. What the bloody hell?! A week later I tried the same in female, and the got the same disappointing result. Something was off.

I changed body to something inconspicuous and unattractive and set out to follow him around town. I probably should have done that a long time ago; instead of trying on different people, I needed to study the Captain in his own element, see what made him tick. That was not that easy, considering he spent most his time in an underground bunker. Fortunately, he and his team spent a lot of time running around town.

Switching looks frequently (didn't have to bother with personalities) I kept an eye on Captain Dashing and his tiny troupe. It didn't look like he was doing his casual shags that accounted for so many (most) of our encounters. He must have had a regular on his crew. (Most intriguing!) I was almost certain it couldn't have been the short male. The Asian female looked promising, but their body language suggested otherwise. The young male was a possibility. The gap-toothed female looked like the one - there were lots of meaningful looks, touches. I didn't get it. She looked fine, but I had worn bodies for the Captain that were far superior.

*******************

I was back in North America when Captain Arsehole simply just disappeared. After transmitting my report I returned to Cardiff as fast as I could, but he was already gone. I went to considerable trouble, and through many guises, to get close to the team, but they were one closed-up bunch. All I could piece together was that the disappearance was most likely sudden and unexpected, and they had no idea if he'd return.

I cursed the fates that spat in my face yet again. Angry and frustrated, I went back to my base and into hibernation. Screw the reports, if those wankers from CHIERI wanted them so bad, they could come and get them themselves. They didn't. Nobody came. I had strange dreams, made even stranger by the fact that you were not supposed to dream while in hibernation. I couldn’t shake the fuzzy feeling. I also discovered that my bosses have long forgotten about my existence. The hell with them! I headed back to Cardiff.

*******************

My heart skipped in joy when I realized that Captain Cheese was back. Some significant event must have happened while I was sleeping, because the team now only consisted of Gap-Tooth and Young Suit. I didn't really give a crap. I resumed my surveillance. To my surprise, I uncovered that it wasn’t Gap-Tooth, but Young Pinstripe who kept Captain Crank out of circulation. Ianto - that was his name. I was still puzzled. He looked nice enough, pretty pouty lips, long limbs, so forth - nothing all that extraordinary though. There had to be more to him, I had to get into his head.

I spent almost two full quadronats studying him. It was the screwiest brain I've ever been to. It was all upside-in and rightside-down, topsy-turvy and loopty-doop. There were straight rulers rubbing shoulders with naughty bunnies, sharp bits of metal bouncing around with stopwatches. (And what made stop watches so lick-ably lewd and licentious, anyway?) There were closed doors with signs like "Rabid Recollections on the Lose", "Bio and Cognitive Hazard", "All Trespassers Will Be Converted", "Vicious Attack Land Mines on Premises". I realized: My dear Captain was a mental pervert. (Bloody hell!) I could feel savage substances secreting back through our connection, but I couldn't stop. Not yet. (In-scrutable sticky slick sickness slithering…STOP!) I still wasn't able to fully predict his reactions, and I knew with ferociously full certainty he’d be my ticket. I had to get closer, dig in deeper. Also, I had to be able to observe the two of them together, intimately.

There was only one thing to do. The anachronistic flying creature was the key. I wiped its miniscule brain and sent it South (or thereabouts). Duplicating something that big was a real strain, but it got me inside the base. I had to do it, because Captain Sticky Fingers and Sweet Buns were practically living there. Finally, I could observe them up close, when they felt they were alone.

Holy Frak, Sick Puppies!

Where was I... It's hard to think sometimes.

I was almost ready for the switch when the place went KABOOM. I was blown clear through the roof. Dazed and banged up I just barely caught up with Sick Puppy Ianto before he would’ve disappeared. Strange shit was going on, but I was unable to pay much attention. I could barely keep up with Toy Boy, with all the running around. Freaking humans are a twitchy bunch. The young ones were doing some weird crap standing around, chanting in unison. (Stupid carbon based bipedal boobs!) I was worried about my beloved Captain, I lost sight of him, but then he showed up. Phew.

We were in London (hiding?), and there was some shouting, shooting, (shuddering?) going on, but my head was blithely buzzing by then. I had to make my move and kill the connection before I drowned in that forever fizzy-jizzy brain. Emotions were spiking all over, it was the time, I knew it, I just needed the perfect moment. There it was. Just the two of them by the warehouse. Conversation. "Just so you know, I have a daughter..." (WHAT?!?) Oh, never mind. Blah, blah, blah. Captain Gloomy stage left. Pouty Lips alone. Finally! I plonked him on the head. Mild concussion, who cares. I dragged him into a nearby van; breaking in was easy. I needed his clothes. They had his smell, and I knew everything had to be precisely perfect. I messed his mind up a little. Nothing major, just a bit of a wall, to lock everything behind. He might even be able to break through one day, if he is good. I could have killed him, but why bother? Captain Greatcoat and I would be far away soon.

I let all that sickly succulent sap I had absorbed from Pouty Pinstripe wash over my senses, take control of my cerebrum; I put it on autopilot (Iantopilot!) and sat back (mentally). It was easy as cake. (Why is cake easy? These idioms make no sense. Stupid humans.) Call ‘sister’. Check. Dash into building. Check. Something looking like a Quaglon in a glass cage. (Wtf?) Nasty buggers. Shrug. Plucky Speech. Check. Guns Blazing. Check. (I'm the Shizzle!) Feeling faint(?). Check(?) In Captain's arms! CheckCheckCheck! That was the moment! (Yeah!) I closed my (metaphorical) eyes and really, really channeled Boy Wonder. It was all very emotional. I totally nailed it. (Johnny Depp, eat your heart out!) Captain Emo was wrapped around my little finger. He'd do anything for me. I felt like singing, and dancing, and setting off fireworks made of candy floss and fluffy bunnies. O Captain, My Captain, take me away!

Hey... WHAT THE FUCK!!!????

*******************

Darkness. I found myself here, and I have no clue where "here" is. All I know, it's dark. Very Dark. Darker than deep space. My head hurts. Can anyone tell me what's going on? Hello? HELLO?? ANYONE???