False Dawn

The crew of Trow's ship, the Ohanzee, didn't take well to the new pilot. Eight men and one woman. They had a clique of their own, and the new person was an outsider. Jack didn't work with them in the 'garage', and she kept to herself, which didn't help the situation. Her duties kept her isolated from them most of the time and that was just fine with her. She wasn't looking to make new friends.

Occasionally, but rarely, Jack would venture into the 'mess hall' at the same time the group was there. Trow would be there with the rest of them, cracking jokes and talking shit, like men were wont to do in groups.

Silence would descend at her appearance. Whispered words, loud enough for Jack to hear, but they thought they were being stealthy. On the first couple occasions Trow would yell across the room to invite her to sit at the table with them instead of taking her meal to her room or the cockpit. She had tried. She'd sat at the table, meeting wary or just plain out hostile gazes unflinchingly, indifferently. She wasn't going to cower before their alleged collective strength. Trow spoke to her, asking her questions, but her answers were usually one word, or just straight out refusals.

One of the men, Gar, was a braggart. He would keep his comments to himself when Trow was around, but as soon as he could he was spouting remarks of 'Trow's whore', and other such naïve misconceptions. She wondered if he was envious, but didn't really give a shit. He was insignificant. What did she care what a sloppy mechanic carting around through back space thought of her?

When he finally became aware of her continued lack of concern, he went one step further.

She had gone into the cargo bay to check some of the numbers on the crates for the list Trow had asked for. Hushed whispers echoing faintly back to her position in the depths of the stacked crates gave her all the warning she needed. When she moved through the boxes to leave she kept her head down as if she were only reading the list, while listening and waiting for whatever they had planned.

She had just come into the full view of the room, seeing eight eager wide gazes on her, when she heard heavy breathing nearing her. Gar was the only one missing from the group. She felt his fingers graze her hair as she dropped and lunged all in one motion. Her fist hit the soft flab of his stomach, shoving a loud 'oof' from his mouth. When he began to double over she caught his cheek with another fist, rocking his head back and stopping the forward motion, but not bringing him down.

Dark narrowed eyes glared at her as she took a step back, expressionless except for her narrowed eyes and tightened jaw.

"Little bitch!" His grab at her was clumsy and she stepped back, coming up against the crate behind her. She kicked out, catching him again in the stomach, and then she was stepping into the thrust of her fist aimed at his face. He went down, falling against the crate behind him.

Silence.

Jack's head came up, counting heads, ready for anything. Trow stood at the bottom of the ladder. She turned her head to look at him, and saw that he was not pleased.

The group stood clustered together, each showing different degrees of disbelief or anger. Gar laid on the floor groaning softly, his hand covering his bleeding nose.

Trow finally came forward, walking past a motionless Jack to look down at Gar. "Is anything broken?"

Gar growled from the floor, eyes glaring at Jack. "That little bitch broke my nose," he complained loud enough to be heard by all.

Trow turned to her. "Are you armed?"

She didn't know what he intended, but she wouldn't lie. She pulled the knife, freshly sharpened from its hidden sheath. There were several gasps from the group.

Trow looked back down at Gar. "If you ever attack someone on this ship again I'll dump you on the nearest planet. You're lucky she didn't kill you." He shook his head and stared at her with something near to a scowl. "Come on."

Jack watched him walk toward the steps. She turned back to Gar and squatted beside him. Though he glared at her he didn't protest when she pushed his hand aside. She quickly jerked his nose back into alignment, causing him to howl in pain, before slapping his hand back to the offended lump. She pulled a packet from the small med pack she wore, and dropped it on his stomach, knowing he wouldn't willingly take it from her. It was a rather strong pain medicine, and he would need it. "I didn't want this to happen," she whispered for his ears only. Then she picked up her dropped clipboard and left, shaking her head a bit at Trow's questioning look as she approached him.

She didn't have any more troubles with the crew after that, though she avoided them. Trow had been severely pissed, but had seen enough to not blame her. When she happened to enter the mess hall while the others were there, the silence was complete until she left again.

The Ohanzee made stops at different planets, picking up and dropping off shipments. The crew never went into cryo, their stops too close together to make it worthwhile, and the garage an extra source of income as they went skipping across the galaxies.

Her contact with the crew was limited, but she couldn't do the same with the captain. Trow was an unknown to her. His ebullience was annoying and bizarre to her. She knew not everyone lived in such a somber state as she did, but his never-ending cheerfulness was unnerving. Since their first encounter she'd been wary around him, not knowing what to expect from this person she knew nothing about. Yet on more than one occasion he had caught her off guard. Ironically, it was when he wasn't even trying that she was the most disturbed by him.

Once she'd been going over the flight plan, checking and rechecking, and then checking again. He had just showered, after coming up from the garage, and he had moved to stand behind her chair, watching her work. His scent, the clean smell of shampoo and shaving cream, mixed with his uniquely male odor, had sent her nerves into overdrive. She'd covered her rapid breathing and shaky hands by snapping at him about sneaking up on her. He had just smiled at her and left, and she wondered if he knew how she had been affected.

She came up to the cockpit one night to find him sleeping in the pilot's seat dressed only in a light pair of pants. She had sat down facing him and had watched him sleeping, thinking of how truly damn beautiful he was. His body could never compare to the size and strength of Riddick, but there was not an ounce of fat on him either. His muscles were honed and stood in relief beneath his rather pale skin. Suddenly those clear bright eyes had opened and she'd been caught, her expression much too soft for her own comfort. She had been the one to leave that time, just up and left him without a word.

Occasionally her meal coincided with the rest of the crews, like tonight. She quietly went about preparing her food and then left with the tray. Minutes later Trow entered the cockpit, drink still in one hand, a piece of bread in the other.

He sat and watched her eating until she looked up at him inquiringly.

"Do you ever get tired of not talking?" he asked, honest curiosity written plainly on his face, his normally ever-present smile not on display for once.

"No." She took another bite.

He shook his head, "Are your conversational skills that bad? Do you spit when you talk? Are you just ignorant?" he asked, not attempting to suppress his spreading grin.

Jack smiled a bit, "No to all."

"Where are you from?"

She smiled, "Achelve."

He rolled his eyes. "Do you have any family?"

"No."

"Do you know anyone outside this ship?"

"Yes."

Trow sighed, "If I wring your neck would you talk more?"

"I'd kill you," she said matter-of-factly.

He smiled, "Who taught you such things? You're very young to be have such skills."

Jack didn't answer, her gaze unwavering.

He smiled triumphantly, "Ah, something you can't brush off. Where have you lived up till now?"

"Everywhere."

He shook his head, "You're impossible, Jack." He stood and stepped to the door before turning back, "How many people do you know, really know outside this ship?"

Jack stared at the chair he had vacated, "One," she whispered.

There was a long silence before the sound of Trow's boots were heard moving away.

The next time they encountered each other was a little less anticipated. There was a communal shower that all the crew used, with no consideration given to different sexes. The room had showerheads lined along both walls, giving a heavy spray to as many people as could fit underneath.

Jack was standing beneath the hot spray, enjoying it relaxing her tense muscles. She'd been finding ways to work out at different times, usually at night, but she still got stiff from sitting too much. A sound alerted her that she wasn't alone anymore and she opened her eyes to see a very naked Trow standing just inside the room.

She met his eyes evenly, refusing to let her gaze drop to his hard body. Though with the distance between them she could see him well enough without having to truly stare. He was a beautiful man, sculpted and refined to near perfection. He wasn't as tall, or as broad as Riddick, but he was doing well with what he had.

He came further into the shower, their pride and willfulness keeping either of them from backing down. Jack turned her back to him, reaching for the bar of soap she'd brought with her. She could hear that he chose to stand opposite her in the small room, but refused to turn.

"Nice scars." His strangely low voice carried well in the small room, despite the constant hiss and spray of the water.

"I didn't particularly enjoy them."

"No?" He snorted softly, "Bullet wounds do usually scar pretty bad."

Jack said nothing. What the hell did he want her to say? Lookie, I got a booboo? She wasn't proud of her scars, but there really wasn't shit she could do about them either.

He chuckled, "I'd say it was okay if you didn't want to talk about it, but I know you just don't want to talk."

Jack remained silent. Suddenly she jerked her head up, but was too late. In the close room he only needed to step once with those long legs to be right next to her. His thick arm came around her, effectively pinning her arms for the moment and keeping her very naked back pressed to his equally naked front.

"What do I have to do to get a response out of you?" his words were whispered into her ear, and she couldn't keep the shiver from shooting across her nerve endings. "Kiss you or shoot at you?"

"Neither would be very effective."

"No?" His free hand came up to turn her head back toward him and she didn't fight it.

His mouth was warm and firm against hers, his tongue seeking entrance and gaining it. He tasted of coffee, and man, and she allowed her senses to soak up the taste and feel of him. She would be lying if she said she didn't want him, but there was something in her that prevented it. She just couldn't do it.

Did she expect Riddick to take her back with open arms? Not really. Was she holding out for him? She honestly didn't know. She just felt like she needed to at least see him again, know everything for sure. But then she wasn't in a big damn hurry to find him either, not that she would be able to even if she tried. She'd felt deserted when she'd found herself at Chem Industries' mercy or lack of, and had been resentful when the baby died, both hurt and angry at being alone. Where had he been? Where was he now? Damn him, why had he left her?

Trow's hand shifting on her wet skin brought her back to the reality of what was going on. She pulled away from him, almost surprised that he let her go so easily.

She walked to the door, and then stopped to glance back at him. "I'm sorry."

He nodded, his eyes refusing to meet hers, his need still blatantly obvious. "Who is he, Jack?"

Her eyes held his, "I can't tell you."

He nodded, "Where is he?"

She shook her head, "I don't know."

"Does he care?"

Jack felt her heart wrench and she frowned at him, hating him in that moment for asking that question. She could see the frown on his own face, the regret, the desire. She knew what this was. She knew. He was offering himself and she was turning him down. She had to be out of her fucking mind! She was holding out for something she might never get back, something she might not even want back. "I don't know, Trow."