Slipstream III: Atlantian Interlude – 9.5
Bonus chapter by TVNerdGirl

This story is meant to take place mid Chapter 9 of Slipstream III: Atlantian Interlude.

Marie stormed her way through the TARDIS, making as much noise as she cared to. Fury radiated in her every step as she went over the argument with Rodney in her mind. She wasn't sure who she was angrier at – Rodney for being so naive, so human; or herself for allowing it to continue, letting him think it could be more than it was. She should have known better, should have seen it coming. All this time Slipping, all the others who had tried to convince her to stay...

Why had she thought Rodney would be any different? His intellect? Clearly being an unparalleled genius had no impact on rational thought where the Mary Sue was concerned.

Damn him!

She had no idea where she was going, nor did she have any clue where she was. The TARDIS, being what it was, seemed to go on forever. It almost reminded her of Jareth's labyrinth. There always seemed to be another corridor or hallway ahead of her. Despite her lack of an intended destination, it felt like the TARDIS was leading her somewhere, guiding her instincts, instructing her which way to turn, or when to head straight.

She found herself standing in front of an unmarked doorway and somehow she knew that it was the door to Jack Harkness' quarters.

Her mind flashed back once again to the argument they'd had, and she felt her face burn as she remembered telling Rodney about Trieze. She'd never wanted that wound exposed, never wanted Rodney to know how lonely or how fragile she could be.

She raised her fist to knock on the door, but it opened before she had the chance, revealing a very shirtless, slightly surprised Captain Jack Harkness.

"I was hoping it was you outside my door," he said with a smile. "Come in?"

"How did you know I was there?" she wondered, barely meeting his gaze as she entered.

"Are you kidding? They could hear you in the next galaxy! I thought vampires were supposed to be all quiet and stealthy."

"I'm supposed to be a lot of things," she said bitterly, thinking of the disappointment and fear on Rodney's face.

"Something tells me you're not having a good day," Jack said simply, sitting down on the bed. He made no move to put a shirt on, but the devilish gleam had left his eye. For some reason that made her angrier. She did not need someone like Jack bloody Harkness pitying her. That wasn't what she came for.

What did you come for?

But she already knew the answer to that. She knew enough of Jack's character from Rodney's description to know that he was a complete flirt. He could give her what she wanted with no strings attached. He had already made the suggestion to be her pomme du sang earlier and although she could probably go a little while longer without feeding, she wanted the oblivion that would come with it. She wanted to just lose herself in someone who wanted nothing more from her than a shag and the physical ecstasy that she could offer in return for a meal. She knew Jack could give her these things and wouldn't ask anything in return.

"My day's been fan-bloody-tastic," she retorted sharply. "Can we skip the preliminaries?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh come off it," she said with an exasperated sigh. "You're pretty, but you're not dumb. You know why I'm here. You made me an offer earlier. I've come to accept."

"An offer..." He looked at her thoughtfully. "You mean for me to be your..."

"Pomme du sang," she finished impatiently. "Am I really going to have to spell this out for you?"

"I think maybe this isn't the best time," Jack said gently. The look in his eyes should have been mischievous, maybe even lustful like it had been before. Instead it was...kind. Maybe even slightly worried. It only made her madder.

"Well you sure picked a hell of a time to start acting out of character," she muttered.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"It means that if I were anyone other than a Mary Sue we'd be naked and sweaty by now. You'd be up for it in a heartbeat! Instead, you're going all Doctor Phil on me! I don't need therapy, or a friend, or compassion. What I need is a good shag, and your blood."

"Since you put it that way, how can I refuse?" The sarcasm wasn't lost on her, nor was the look in his eyes. There was more to this for once, than just her. It suddenly occurred to her that while as the Mary Sue most plots tended to revolve around her, there was always a subplot somewhere and that she might have just wandered into Jack's. She looked around at his quarters, noticing the lack of decoration or adornment.

She remembered Rodney telling her that Jack had only come aboard the TARDIS recently, and even she could see the tension that existed between him, the Doctor and Rose. For all his bluster and swagger, there was an insecurity to Jack Harkness that even he couldn't hide.

"You're afraid they're going to leave you, aren't you?"

The question had obviously come out of left field for Jack, as his head snapped up and his eyes narrowed.

"I don't know what you're--"

"You're afraid." She repeated. "It's why you flirt so much, why you don't have any personal belongings. You know that any day now they'll see just how empty you really are and leave you behind."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said softly.

"I don't? How do you think I know, Captain Harkness?" She looked down at her hands, flexing them on her hips. "I'm having a hell of a time remembering that there's a person under this Mary Sue. Under the...whatever the hell it is I am. You think I don't see the same thing in you? Face it, you're just empty as I am. You just don't know it."

"You know nothing about me," Jack growled.

Marie's smile was darkly triumphant. She had hit a nerve. She could see it in his eyes, the way his stance had gone from open concern, to guarded, almost dangerous.

"I know that what I said just now bothers you," she replied calmly. The dark expression on his face should have warned her off. Instead she found it exhilarating and just a little bit sexy. She wanted his anger, his fury. She wanted to see that visceral reaction on his face. And, more than a little, she wanted him. Badly. "You're drawn to me, Captain, because you and I are the same."

"Did you just come here to pick a fight?" He stood up and strode past her towards the door. She stood firm, refusing to take the hint. Instead, she took the opportunity to stare at him, taking in his bare chest and the strength that he radiated.

"You know what I came here for," she countered. "Hell, it was your idea! C'mon, Jack, why don't you just shut up and do what you do best?"

"I think I've had enough of this," Jack said, turning towards the door. Crossing the room, she put her hand on his before he could open it. He looked at her in surprise, and then leaned in close. She could feel the warmth of his skin. "You sure you want to push me? You might be biting off more than you can chew."

She smiled, letting her teeth show.

"I'm counting on it," she replied as she shoved him against the wall and kissed him – hard.

He tensed at first and she wasn't sure if he would push her away or not. To her surprise, he deepened the kiss instead, pulling her against him and running his hands roughly through her hair.

She broke away with a gasp and stepped back.

"What's the matter?" Jack taunted. "This is what you wanted. Don't tell me you're having second thoughts just when things were getting interesting."

He was grinning now, an intensity in his eyes that, despite everything, made her bite her lip in anticipation. He just looked so...tasty.

"Getting interesting," she mused as she pressed herself against the warmth of his skin and ran her fingers lightly over the broad expanse of his bare chest. He shivered slightly, but otherwise showed no reaction. "Believe me I have no intention of backing off."

As she spoke he grabbed her waist forcefully, and dipped his mouth towards hers. This kiss was different than the last. It was soft, almost gentle, but with an undercarriage of desperation and force. It was a game of chicken and neither one of them was prepared to swerve.

"What about your boy?" Jack whispered in her ear. His voice was a silky purr and his breath against her ear caused her to clench her fists. He pressed his hips into hers, slowly, suggestively.

"He's not my boy," she growled back, hands finding the belt buckle of his trousers and unbuttoning him.

She gasped as they fell to the floor and she took in the sight of him. Evidently Captain Jack Harkness did not wear underwear. She swallowed heavily, suddenly at a loss for words.

Jack took her momentary incoherence as his opportunity to run his hands down the side of her face, her neck, collarbone, and finally trailing down to the opening of her own trousers. He made no move to undress her, however.

She felt her own control slipping as she met his gaze. The anger still simmered behind his eyes, but a different kind of fire resided at the forefront. Sensation still lingered on her skin from where he had touched her.

"One of us is overdressed," Jack told her simply. If he had any modesty whatsoever, he wasn't showing it.

"Okay," she replied, her voice no longer as steady as it was. "So do something about it."

He needed very little encouragement. With renewed force, he discarded her clothing with practiced ease. Her mind suddenly strayed to thoughts of Rodney and the look on his face the first time they were together. It made her teeth clench with anger. Why couldn't he see their time together the way Jack did? Why did he have to make things so complicated?

"Damn it!" She said out loud as Jack guided her over to the bed and pulled her against him. His lips quickly found her neck and she was bombarded with sensation.

"Problem?" he murmured against her shoulder. Her body reacted, despite the distraction that thoughts of Rodney had caused. His fingers traced the curve of her hips so lightly she wasn't sure if the touch was real or imagined.

"Nothing," she lied. She turned to him, and kissed him deeply, trailing kisses all over his neck and down towards his chest. "I want to forget everything. Can you do that? Just make me forget?"

She looked up at him, challenge in her eyes as she ran her hands over him. Her touch lacked the finesse of his. She was driven by something beyond anger now, beyond bloodlust. Her entire body craved the emptiness she had fought so hard against only moments ago. Now, she just wanted to forget. She wanted to lose herself in the physical comfort Jack offered.

She could sense the blood pulsing beneath his skin. She wanted to taste him so badly. She wanted the warmth he offered – the nothingness.

"I can do that," he promised her. And before she knew it, he was inside her, filling her, and there was nothing but the two of them.

He didn't attempt to be gentle, and she was grateful for that. There was no passion in the encounter, no tenderness or grace. He moved against her with a clumsy desperation that echoed in her own movements. Each of them had something to escape, and something to forget.

She met his eyes, and saw the fear behind them – the same fear she could feel pressing against her own subconscious. Reaching up, she touched his face, gently this time. She wasn't sure why, but she wanted banish the haunted look from his eyes.

"Jack..."

"You're right, damn it," Jack whispered. He ran his hands over her shoulders and slowed his movements. He kissed her mouth. She was suddenly aware of just how intimate his touch was, and it frightened her. "I am scared. And it kills me that you know that I am."

"Right, and I'm not?" She meant to sound snarky and sarcastic. Instead her voice caught slightly and she just sounded scared and vulnerable. Could he sense that?

Gently, with real tenderness, Jack leaned down and kissed her lips.

"Guess you're right. We are the same."

She pushed up against him, heat surging through her, her body desperately wanting to take over and leave everything else behind.

"And doesn't that just suck like a corpse?"

He said nothing in response to that, but she saw the ghost of a smile pass his features. He took the hint she offered though and pulled her legs around his waist, taking her as deeply as he could. She gasped and gave herself over to the sensation.

She clung to him and dug her nails into his shoulder and with every passing second wanted nothing more than to sink her teeth into Jack Harkness and taste what he had to offer.

"What are you waiting for?" It was meant to sound like a demand or a challenge, but the tone of his voice made it sound more like a plea.

It was the only hint she needed. Taking control, she rolled him onto his back, straddled Jack's waist and raked her fingers down his chest towards his hips.

"Impressive." Jack looked slightly surprised, but didn't complain.

"That's not all I can do," she grinned.

"Let's see it then," he said, the cocky smile back on his face.

"Just remember," she retorted, "you wanted this."

"All talk and no action," he shot back. She smiled too, and bent down, allowing her lips to graze the skin of his neck. She felt him shiver in anticipation, but she wasn't going to taste him there. She had a better spot in mind. Ever since he had opened the door, half naked she had wanted to taste him.

He seemed to sense what she had in mind because he groaned the minute her tongue touched his chest.

"Do it," he whispered.

He didn't need to tell her twice.

The first wave hit her, and she moaned aloud. Jack clung to her, caught in the same flush of ecstasy. In that instant, everything was perfect. She forgot about Rodney, about her own emptiness and all the anger drained from her body, replaced by the warmth of Jack's blood, and the feel of his body beneath hers.

She concentrated in the moment and let the rest of the world fall away. All of the pain, the anger and self loathing vanished. She would deal with her own emptiness later. Right now, she was content to let Jack fill her, warm her.

Right now, he made her feel alive. And she'd cling to that feeling as long as she could.