False Dawn

Chapter 15

Pain shot up Riddick's arm from where his fist had connected with the unfortunate Vid screen that had delivered the unwanted news. He growled as the pain pulsed through him, seeming to swirl the dark shadows of the beast that had been fighting with him for control. He'd blasted away from Triborne 1's atmosphere and an unbearable weight had seemed to settle on him. Even his anger couldn't hold up to the utter hopelessness he felt.

What had he done? How could he just leave her? Why had he fucking left her?

And now he'd heard the news. Though he hadn't needed to hear it in order to know. She was gone. His Jack was dead.

Rage was the first reaction. Blinding, maddening rage, towards those responsible and towards himself, and then guilt. Guilt was something he'd never had to deal with. He had felt mildly responsible when she'd been attacked in the alley back on Urika. His leaving her alone was what had caused it, but even that hadn't been such a deliberate cold-blooded act as this had been. This time he'd actually left her to die. Fuck that she had told him to. Never mind that she was dying. He'd left her! How could he have fuckin' left her to die alone?

The news report had told of the near capture of Richard B. Riddick. Barely as a side note they mentioned that his companion had been killed, and that she was in fact the wanted third survivor of the Hunter Graztner. It was made to sound as if he'd shot her and left her to make his own escape. Only part of that was true. Yeah, he had left her, but she had been the one to shoot him. Then the reporter had gone right back into the continuing search for Big Evil.

The 'Big Evil' they were searching for sank slowly into his seat. Despair was like a choking shroud that threatened to suffocate him. Loss and anguish left him feeling like both striking out, maiming and killing, or just doing nothing. How would he face each coming day without her?

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White blinding light and searing pain were the first things that penetrated the fog of Jack's mind. When her eyelids fluttered open she snapped them closed with a soft groan. Gods! What were they trying to do, fry her eyeballs?

From the brief glimpse she'd had, though distorted by her blurry vision, it had been easy to identify the room. Medbay somewhere. The entire room, including her naked form, was reflected back to her by the metal around the awful glaring lights. White walls, white ceiling, white everything. Only the hard freezing metal table she was on offered relief from the blinding white of the room, and even that was reflecting white.

With the knowledge that she was curiously alive, she let her muscles slowly flex, testing what worked and what didn't. Leather cuffs made themselves known immediately by cutting into her wrists and ankles. Her leg hurt, the muscle of her thigh in agony when she flexed it. Her collarbone hurt, and she remembered that she'd taken a shot there as well. She could breath easily enough so she figured what damage that had been done to her lung was fixed. Between the ache in her shoulder and upper chest, it was hard to tell where one pain started and the other stopped. Her head throbbed as well, near the top in the back. Oh, yeah, the fuckers tried to knock you out.

But it hadn't worked. At least not immediately. Tears formed in her already watery eyes as she thought of watching the Argentine take off. At least Riddick was safe, though she couldn't deny the relief was mixed with hurt for being left behind.

There was no way they could've reached a doctor in time to keep her from bleeding to death. She'd taken three bullets by that time, right? Riddick had been bleeding too, but none of his wounds had seemed critical.

That he was free thrilled her. But not being with him hurt worse than she'd have thought it could. She missed him. She missed that feeling of not having to worry about a damn thing when he was around.

Jack didn't know why she'd been saved. Would they torture her for information? What could she tell them that they didn't know? The possibility of them using her to lure Riddick in occurred to her, but she wouldn't allow that. Fuck that! She had already chosen to die for him. It wouldn't take much to bring that about for real. Taking her own life wasn't high on a list of fun things to do, but she owed Riddick her life, and much more. It wouldn't be a difficult decision to make in order to protect him.

So why keep her? Why save her? She was a murderer now herself. Riddick hadn't killed even one of the mercs that had come after them, while she had killed more than a dozen.

Her thoughts continued, incessant and disjointed, seemingly random thoughts flashing across her mind. Unlike the nearly drunken state the shock of being wounded had caused, this was a nervous rambling of thoughts. She was scared.

The hiss of the door opening had her blinking away the hot sting of her tears. She knew it would still be obvious that she had been crying, but she would be damned if she'd let them see her actually doing it.

"You're dead, you know." A man's conversational tone came to her, echoing around the room before silence returned again.

"Yeah, it feels like it," she retorted.

She could hear his steps coming closer, not boots, but the slick sliding sound of dress shoes. Fabric rustled, the heavy sound of an expensive suit. Then she could smell him, the clean sharp scent of cologne and aftershave. He finally stepped far enough around her so she could see him and she was surprised to find herself making a sound she'd only heard one other person make. She growled.

He smiled easily at her. "I see you know who I am."

Her eyes narrowed at him as the hatred toward him rushed through her. "Yeah, I know who you are. Now, let me up so I can rip your fucking throat out."

His brows rose at her threat, but he seemed otherwise unaffected, like he was used to people wanting him dead. Then he gave her a smile that could only be called greasy. It was the smile of someone who enjoyed having powerful information. "You should be taking it easy. We put you back together, but you're condition is fragile."

She smiled, with eyes still narrowed, "That's no problem. It won't strain me in the least to kill you."

He smiled, "You've been spending too much time with Richard, I see."

"I could never spend enough time with him."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes, the great and worthy Riddick. How pathetically loyal. But I can see how much you meant to him."

Jack knew he was just trying to piss her off, to fuck with her head. And it was working. She hated being here, defenseless, instead of with Riddick. But she kept the hostile glare in place. She hadn't spent so much time with someone who refused to acknowledge they even had emotions, without learning to hide her own.

"I wanted him to leave."

Again the condescending roll of his eyes, "How sweet." His droll tone made it obvious he thought such things were pitiable. "I heard of your heroic efforts, shooting him. What did you intend to gain with such nonsense?"

Jack actually grinned at him, "His freedom, you fucking dumbass, which is just what I got."

Mr. Ndale huffed out a breath as if she had disappointed him. Jack could only wish she'd been so lucky.

"Well, enjoy our hospitality. Your stay here should be pleasant." He was speaking as he walked away, attempting to show her how little she was worth, she was sure.

She couldn't help snapping at him again, though she couldn't see him. "Yeah, you know where you can stick your fuckin' hospitality."

She was left alone for several hours after that. It was hard to say exactly how much time had gone by. Men in white suits came to her then, taking blood and checking her wounds, and ignoring her scathing remarks.

Days went by in the same fashion. She was fed and bathed and cared for, while at the same time meticulously ignored. Being left completely naked was a form of torture she'd never had to endure before. Should there be a chance to escape it was quite obvious she was going nowhere without some clothes. The self-consciousness lasted only the first care-giving visit, after that she honestly didn't care. Aurick Ndale didn't come to repeat his derisive performance. Whatever use they had in mind for her didn't require him at this point, but she wondered what would happen when she was healed.

Her wounds were treated and pictures of each were taken twice a day. What the hell were those for? She began noticing that she was healing quickly, much quicker than she would have expected. Though she didn't give it much thought, partly for not wanting to know why, and partly because she was so upset and anxious.

On the fourth day, she thought it felt like the fourth day, anyway, they came for her. A dozen guys big enough to rival Riddick in size crowded into the room, four coming up to surround her. The table was turned and tilted so that she was in a standing position, facing the door that she had never seen. Aurick Ndale was standing in the open door.

"Are you going to cause problems?" he asked.

Jack snorted and looked at the pair of burly men standing on either side of her. "What the fuck? I weigh 130 pounds, what do you expect me to do?"

He just blinked at her, his eyebrows rising a bit while his lips pursed a bit. "Kill," he said matter-of-factly.

Jack laughed. She tilted her head back as far as it would go and filled the echoing room with her laughter.

"Take her down," Ndale ordered.

She didn't struggle, after all, what was the point? But it didn't seem to matter. She was gripped with hands tight enough to make her cringe, and would surely leave bruises. As the restraints were removed she was held immobile until she was free. Then she was roughly bent over, her arms hoisted behind her back hard enough to cause her to gasp.

"Be careful with her, you fools!" Ndale shouted.

Jack's eyes narrowed at the shouted warning. So, they wanted her uninjured. Surely there was a way to use that.

Within seconds she was trussed.

She had been naked from day one, but now horrid green cotton pants had been pulled onto her. Taking no chances with her hands getting free, she'd been cuffed, and then a halter of some sort tied around her, covering only her front. Then her legs were shackled, the chain in between short enough to keep her from taking a full step.

Her eyes narrowed on Ndale again as they shuffled her forward.

"Must I bit you?" he asked indifferently.

She refused to speak. She knew Riddick had been forced to wear a bit in Slam and had seen him in one on T2. She knew she shouldn't let it bother her, but she nearly shuddered at the idea of having that last weapon taken from her, leaving her completely vulnerable.

When she didn't respond Ndale just stared at her for a long moment. Then he shrugged and turned away, leading the way as they shuffled her forward, chains clinking, bare feet padding on the floor. Her heart raced, and she realized with a bit of shame that she was more than anxious. She was afraid. She squared her shoulders, and ground her jaw. All they could do was kill her, and that had already been tried.