False Dawn

**Disclaimer: I don’t own Pitch Black nor do I make any money from the portrayal of its characters here. Thanks.


Chapter 2

Jack used the flashlights like they were weapons, shining their bright beams towards anything that made a sound. It made her think of an old movie she had watched where the men had fought with light swords of some sort. One beast came swooping in, screaming its chilling cry. Shining both lights straight up at it she ducked and moved to the side. The beast shrieked at the sudden bright light and flew off into the night. She couldn’t control the laugh of relief that bubbled out of her.

Finally she reached the ship, feeling more exhausted than she could ever remember being after the lengthy run. She carefully approached the edge, testing the ground with her feet to see how weak it was before stepping forward. When she could she leaned forward and looked down into the wreck. The fall hadn’t caused the power to go out and she could see rather well.

No Riddick.

“Riddick,” she whispered. Frowning she glanced around at the sounds of the creatures still flying above her in the night. The light coming from the wreck wasn’t enough to make her feel safe. Carefully she set the two flashlights on the ground pointing straight up and then crawled to the edge once again. Ignoring the fear that warned her to be quiet she yelled his name into the wreck hoping that he was able to answer.

“Stop screaming at me, kid.”

Jack gasped at the quiet voice. She searched the interior for him and then gasped when she found him. He had obviously been trying to get out. He had worked his way up about a quarter of the way and was now sitting in a small nook along what had once been the wall. She could see his skin glisten in the poor light, could see the sweat pouring off of him.

“Are you okay?”

He smirked and groaned as he moved a bit, “That’s a stupid fucking question.”

Jack grinned. He was just fine if he could still mouth off.

“What are you doing here? Where’s the holy man?”

Jack couldn’t help the sneer that twisted her face at the mention of Imam. “Cowering in the skiff would be my guess. He tried to stop me.”

Riddick just sat and stared up at her for a long minute. Then he dropped his gaze from hers. “What’d you bring?”

Jack frowned down at him. His look had warmed her, made her feel like he was really seeing her. She pushed away the childish thoughts as she pulled the rope from her shoulder. “Just this.”

He looked up at her and smiled, “Well, that could seriously be helpful here.”

Jack grinned, “Yeah, well, I got half a brain or so.”

“Yeah, well, use your half a brain and tie that off.”

Jack stood and looked around, “To what?”

“Hell, kid, I don’t know. Do I have to think of everything?” he snarled.

Jack stepped back from the hole, “Well, fine! Keep your fuckin’ ass down there.”


Riddick watched her leave and then didn’t hear anything else. “Shit,” he mumbled to himself. Fucking women gettin’ attitudes! Weren’t they all supposed to be like that at that certain time of month or something? He waited for what felt like ten minutes before he started yelling. How fuckin’ humiliating! He carefully stood up and then had to hold onto the wall as a wave of dizziness made everything waver for a moment.

“Ah, quit your hollerin’,” he heard from above. He looked up just in time to catch the rope she threw down at him. “Can you climb?”

He rolled his eyes. Did she think she could lift him? He almost said no just to see if she would try. Yanking on the rope to make sure she wasn’t fucking with him he held it tight and then slid back down to where he had originally fallen.

“What are you doing?” she yelled down at him.

“The cells, kid. We need the cells.” He didn’t know if she heard him, and didn’t really care. It was pretty damn obvious what he was doing. He felt about two steps from plain out collapsing and didn’t want to waste the energy to yell up to her. Once the cells were tied together he stood and heaved a sigh as he held the rope and looked up at her standing so far above him. He wasn’t actually sure he could do this, but what choice did he have? Loss of blood from his throbbing leg, lack of sleep, physical exhaustion, and now the stabbing pains from his ribs and other parts of his abused body, and the spreading warmth around some of them, were starting to take their toll.

He began to slowly climb, the work harder than he’d ever imagined it could be. Losing ground several times when he slipped didn’t help either. Finally, the third time he fell, he barely was able to hold on. He was only about half way up and knew there was no way he was going to make it.

“Get your fucking ass up, Riddick!” the kid yelled.

He smiled as she yelled at him, and then he obeyed. He looked up to see she was pulling on the rope and he was shocked when he felt it actually move upward. She was lifting him! Crazy little bitch!

Several straining minutes later he heard her yell at him again. “Give me your hand!”

He was surprised to look up and see he was only feet below the edge. He took her hand and for one second thought he was going to yank her down with him, but then he was hauled out onto his hands and knees and gasped at the sudden pain making his ribs stab into him.

“Are you injured, Mr. Riddick?”

The holy man’s robes pooled around him in the mud as he squatted down next to him, “Mr. Riddick…”

Riddick brushed the hand away as he stood up, ignoring the way he swayed when he came to his feet. Grabbing up the rope he started hauling up the cells from below. As he paused to catch his breath the girl took the rope from him and started pulling. The holy man stepping forward to help pushed Riddick back a little further and he stood and watched them haul the cells to the surface. They began to struggle when the cells reached the edge and he bent to pull them up.

The three of them stood and just looked at each other. The sounds of the beasts went ignored.

Jack’s gaze dropped to Riddick’s leg, still unattended. “You’re bleeding.”

“Thanks for the update,” he muttered as he bent to untie the cells. Imam picked up the first one as soon as it was free and began trudging towards the skiff. Jack squatted beside him to help with the second.

Riddick let his hands fall away as her small nimble fingers worked at the knot. He watched her, taking in her change of clothes, her cleaner smell, not washed, but not as dirty. The new outfit was hanging off of her, it being several sizes bigger than her, but he could see the small bounce of her breasts. The kid had tits? Maybe she wasn’t such a kid after all. She finally looked up at him and he was struck again by how big her eyes looked in her pale face. He held her gaze for a long moment, enjoying the novelty of someone so close and unafraid, but then she never had been afraid of him. “Thanks, kid.”

She smiled a little at his whispered words. “It’s Jack.”

He nodded and stood up, grunting softly as he hauled the cell up to his shoulder. He watched her grab up the two horribly bright lights before he started walking.

“Did you get hurt when the ship fell in?” she asked as she walked beside him.

“Mmm. Broke a couple ribs,” was his curt answer.

“Are you okay?” she asked, nearly having to trot to keep up with his longer strides.

“I’ll live.” A crash sounded behind them and they both turned at the sudden noise. The hole they had pulled him out of had widened. The light from the HG was no longer visible. *Well, that was too damn close*, he thought. Stuck down in that shit hole with those hungry fuckers wouldn’t have been much fun.

Jack turned back slightly to look up at him for a long silent pause then she turned and headed for the skiff. His brain was becoming so foggy that little made sense. One thing pushed him on, the relative safety and dryness of the skiff where he could pass out for a couple hours.

Imam helped him set the cell down. His dark goggles hid his glare as he stared at the lined up cells. It made sense to switch them over and get up to where he could set the navigation system before passing out, but he knew that wasn’t possible. They all needed sleep, and with his broken bones and loss of blood he was feeling very woozy. He hated not having control of his body, but knew right now that the only thing that was going to get it back was sleep.

Jack’s reflective new outfit glowed like a beacon in his altered vision. She stood over him as he sank back against the hull, not bothering to close the hatch.

“Riddick, are you okay?” she asked and her words registered in his brain but that was the last thing before he plunged into the darkness that had been encroaching his vision for an hour or more.

“Riddick?” Jack asked again when she received no response to her first question. She looked at Imam who had that helpless look on his face again. It pissed her off, but she wouldn’t say anything. He’d helped her pull Riddick from the wreck, and she didn’t think Riddick would be here now without his help.

Kneeling down beside the giant form sprawled before her she whispered his name again. If he lunged at her she’d probably just die right there on the spot. When she still got no response she lifted her hand to his forehead and then pulled it away with a gasp. Damn he was hot!

She looked down at the leg that she was nearly squatting over. It was dark with dried blood, but she could see the flow of new blood as well. Dirt stuck to the wound in a way that made her curl her lip in disgust. It looked horrible. It must hurt like hell, but he’d never said anything. She couldn’t remember even seeing him limp. And hadn’t he said he had broken some ribs? She sat looking at him, counting the different injuries. There was rather bad gash on his right shoulder that was seeping blood, otherwise all she could see were minor scratches. A bruise on his arm caught her attention and she poked it. He groaned and flinched away from her in his sleep. The angle of his lower arm was a bit odd. She couldn’t remember him breaking it, but he’d been away from her several times. Maybe when he’d been attacked before Fry went back for him?

She had to do something for him. Left uncared for his wounds would just fester, and it was obvious he wasn’t able to do it himself. She looked over at Imam and almost laughed when she realized there would be no help from that party either. Maybe he could pray for them she thought with a roll of her eyes.

She stood and moved to the small lockers she had found earlier. Digging deeper she tossed out the silver packs of ration food. MRE’s were about the nastiest thing in the universe, but it would fill their empty stomachs. What she had earlier thought was the bottom of the locker turned out to have a handle and a big red cross on it. She pulled out one of the largest first aid kits she’d ever seen. Well, keep praying, Imam, she thought with a giggle, it was obviously working.

Jack started to see as she pulled the first couple items that the small locker hadn’t just been storage, but had been a sort of survival pack. Flashlights, clothes, rope, duct tape, freeze dried food, water bottles, and now the first aid kit. The kit had a bit of everything. She even found a compress that would harden into a cast like sleeve when it was doused with water. The thought of Riddick in a cast made her giggle and she vowed she had better either wait and ask him or put it on quickly before he woke. The second option was more tempting.

She moved to the wound on his leg first. Her lip curled again at just the sight of it, but she knew she had to do it. Finding a pair of scissors in the giant box she carefully cut away his pants leg, trying to ignore how close her hands came to the bulge between his legs, and carefully avoiding even accidentally touching him there. The cloth of his pants was dried to his leg with blood and she had to use the water to free it. Uncapping the bottle of disinfectant she doused him good and jumped back as he sat up suddenly.

“What are you doing?” he growled through his teeth.

“Well, that’s a fuckin’ stupid question,” she muttered as she reached for the sterile clothes to clean away the dirt.

He hissed through his teeth as she began rubbing at him. “Are you sure there’s not any steel wool in there for you to use?” he growled.

“There might be, but I thought you’d prefer the pain killers,” she said looking up at the reflection of herself in his goggles.

His short pause was followed by a curt order, “Give it.”

She almost smarted off again, but stopped herself when she thought about how much pain he must be in. Finding the shot of local and the several packets of pills she held them out for his inspection.

“Stick that shot in my leg and give me the aspirin.”

She uncapped the syringe and jabbed it into his leg, pressing in the plunger.

“Damn, kid.”

Jack ignored him and tossed the syringe back into the box after recapping it. She held out the bottle of water and ripped open the aspirin, giving him five. He swallowed the pills and then took the other two packs of pills from the floor, one was clearly marked as morphine-based. “For later,” he muttered as he shoved them into his pocket.

Jack watched him, sitting still beside him, noting how strange it felt to be sitting this close to him with him conscious and unrestrained. “Take off your goggles, Riddick,” she murmured softly.

His head jerked up a bit to look at her. After just staring at her for a long pause he nodded a bit and slid them off, putting them into the same pocket as the pills. His silver gaze flashed in the dim lights of the skiff and it occurred to her how vulnerable he was without the dark glass protecting his eyes. She had a nearly overwhelming urge to lean forward and kiss his forehead. But knowing Riddick she’d probably pull back with a shiv in her gut, so she wisely controlled the silly impulse.

Bending back to her task, she carefully cleaned out the grisly chewed flesh of his leg. He never made a sound, making her think the shot had deadened the leg completely. “Stitches or strips?” she asked as she leaned back into the box.

No response.

Jack looked up to see his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling evenly. Stitches then. She dunked the thread in the sterile solution before leaning over to tug the edges of his exposed muscle back together. Her stomach rolled and twisted with nausea several times, but she swallowed down the sick feeling and kept working. Girl scouts and her grandmother’s pushy teaching of quilting came back to help her. Who would’ve thought! She was using the skills her grandmother had taught her at age seven to sew up the universe’s most notorious mass murderer.

Thirty-four careful stitches later she stood to stretch her aching back. Imam’s soft snoring had begun at about stitch 15. She envied them, getting to sleep seemed like a luxury she may not see for a while.

After the ache in her back had eased some she knelt again to wrap his leg completely. Something told her Riddick wouldn’t be especially careful to keep it clean on his own. The effort to lift his heavy leg a fraction so she could slide the bandage beneath drained more of her dwindling energy and she sat back to take a little break. Then she moved to his other side and cleaned the drying blood from the gash on his shoulder. Not wanting to spend another hour carefully threading a needle, she just slapped a couple strips on it to hold it neatly closed, and then bandaged it.

His ribs were next. There were three stretchy wraps in the box that she could use to bind him, but she didn’t know how willing he would be. She stood looking down at him and realized she’d have to take his shirt off. Yeah, right, let me lift him, she thought with a chuckle. Fuck it! She grabbed the scissors and cut right up the front. The bit of cloth was nearly shredded anyway. Snipping the straps where they went over his shoulders she tugged the shirt away from him. It didn’t move and he came awake with a hiss of pain.

“What the fuck?”

The flash of his silver eyes made her heart lurch. “Your ribs,” she whispered, her eyes glued to his, “I can’t wrap them with your shirt on.”

He slowly sat up, forcing her to stumble in her hurry to back up to keep from making contact. She nearly fell on her butt before she got her feet underneath of her. The closed look on his face and the glimmer of silver from his narrowed eyes made her nervous, wondering what he was thinking.

“If ya wanted me naked you didn’t have to wait until I was out.”

Jack couldn’t keep the blush from burning her cheeks. He might see her as just a kid, but she had hit puberty several years ago. She’d be lying if she tried to say she wasn’t looking at the beautifully sculpted body she was uncovering or contemplating just how she was going to react to touching his naked stomach and back to wrap him.

If he noticed her reaction he didn’t comment on it, thankfully. “It’s stuck to my back,” was all he said as he leaned forward.

Jack quickly moved around to behind him. The bottle of water was still nearby and she doused his shirt to slowly peel it away from him. “Gods, Riddick, what did you do?” she whispered, mostly to herself. His back was one large bloody bruised mess.

She used the water and clean gauze to slowly clean his wide back. There were several tears in his skin that would need strips to help them heal.

“How’d you learn about patchin’ people up?” he asked after she had started applying the strips to the worse cuts.

“Read a book once,” she said softly.

Riddick chuckled at her quick answer. “Thanks, kid.”

“It’s Jack,” she whispered, knowing it would do little good. You didn’t try to teach proper form of address to a man you were hoping wouldn’t gut you when you were no longer useful.

She finished and stood to stretch her back again. Realizing that she was arching her back, forcing her breasts into prominence she quickly stopped, but saw Riddick looking away.

“Do you want me to wrap your ribs?” she asked, trying to quickly change whatever subject his mind might be on.

“No, they’ll be fine,” he said as he leaned back again.

She knelt to throw all the stuff back into the med-box. “Is your arm broken?”

Riddick frowned at her and then lifted his arm. Straightening and bending it, he flexed several times. “Almost forgot about that.”

Closing the box she looked up at him, “When did you break it?”

His small parody of a smile was directed at his arm as he flexed his hand again. “Courtesy of the late Johns, our friendly merc.”

Jack recoiled at Johns’ name. She almost swore as she saw Riddick’s perceptive gaze take in her reaction. His eyes narrowed at her, but she quickly stood to replace the box in the small locker.

“There’s another flight suit over here,” she told him quickly.

His response was slow in coming, and she busied herself shoving everything back in the locker.

“I’ll get it later. Get some sleep. We ain’t going anywhere for a while.”

Jack grabbed the third flight suit to use as a pillow and laid down right where she was. She found herself facing Riddick who was leaning back against the hull again. His eyes were closed and she watched him for a long time.

His eyes snapping open and seeming to spear hers with his cold silver gaze shocked her. But he just looked at her for a minute and then spoke, “Thanks for putting me back together.”

She nodded a bit, “I owed you.”

“You don’t owe me shit, kid,” he snapped quickly as if he didn’t like or want her gratitude.

Jack smiled softly. Big scary killer was scared of her little feelings for him? That was kinda funny. “Then I wanted to.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. Jack got the strange impression that the light became dimmer when those flashing eyes closed. How unsettling, and somehow reassuring. She closed her own eyes and was asleep within seconds.

**Wow! I never realized how long these chapters are. If you like that sorta thing, you're welcome. If not, I'm sorry. -Chris