He Didn't Come

“What’s the name of the station?” she asked, when he told her his plan to dock soon.

“D7. It’s part of the Donli system.”

“What are we gonna do there?”

“Fuel up, get some more supplies. I want to check on the cells, too. See what we can do about switching this “luxury vehicle” with something more spacious and practical.”

“Can I go shopping?”

Riddick stared at her. “What for?”

Jack shrugged. “Some new clothes, maybe? I mean, as much as I love Herman’s hand-me-downs, something that actually fits would be nice.”

He answered, “Fine. After I get paid. Remember, no long sleeves.”

Her suppressed pout did not escape his attention. “But….”

“Kid, it’s not that I want to restrict what you wear. I just don’t fully trust that you’re not gonna try and hide anything from me that you shouldn’t.”

Jack glared at him, and he didn’t blame her. “I haven’t cut in two months!”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not all better yet, so get over it.” He knew the bluntness of his words hurt her, but he wasn’t going to sugar-coat reality for her fragile little psyche. If she was going to stay on his ship, things had to go his way. End of story.

She had learned much more self-control, but Riddick heard her muttering under her breath, “I may be fucked up, but I’ve earned the right to wear what I want, haven’t I?”

Losing her cool wasn’t going to get her anywhere, and Riddick knew that she was perfectly well aware of the fact. She bit her lip and clenched her fists together. He recognized the breathing exercises he taught her. He’d found long ago that they were very helpful to him when it came to keeping control of his temper, so that he could think clearly.

He kept drilling into her head that the easiest way to get killed was to act without thinking. Everything had to remain controlled at all times, especially hot tempers such as Jack’s and Riddick’s. In combat situations, to lose a temper meant losing a life. Riddick was pleased that she’d listened.

When he sensed that she’d regained control of herself, he said brusquely, “Okay, listen up, kid.”

She glared at him from where she had been sitting in the copilot’s seat. “What?” she snapped.

He couldn’t resist. “Be careful, Jack. Remember to hold your temper.” She rolled her eyes, but kept her mouth shut. “Good girl,” he muttered mockingly. She heard him and if looks could kill, Riddick knew he would have been wrapped in a sheet and jettisoned in an instant. Jack could pull off a killer glare when she wanted to.

“Okay, this is the deal. It’s our first time seeing anyone other than each other, so don’t get too excited. Stay cool. As far as we know, the rest of the Consortium thinks I’m dead. DO NOT call me Riddick, under any circumstances. Call me Rick.”

She nodded.

“I’ve got some business on the station. Stay here until I come and get you. I’ll have some money and then you can go shopping. Clear on that?”

Jack slumped unhappily. “Fine.”

“If something goes wrong, I want you to run. Get as far away from me as you can. Hide anywhere, just stay put. If I don’t find you in a few hours, find some way to get in touch with Imam. Don’t argue with me,” he said when she opened her mouth to protest. Shushing her with one hand, he went on, “No matter what happens, I want you safe. Understand me?”

“But-“

“Understand?” He was grateful when she agreed sullenly. Arguing with a teenager went nowhere, and only pissed him off.

Then she asked another question, and Riddick rolled his eyes. “But what could go wrong?” she asked curiously. “What kind of business is this?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Jack stared at him, and he felt trapped by her accusation. “You’re going to ghost someone, aren’t you?”

Riddick closed his eyes. “Kid….”

“You are! You’re going to kill someone on D7, right? Who?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, kid. You know I can’t tell you that.”

Her face darkened. “I’m not going to narc on you, Riddick.”

“I know, I know. Trust me, though. The less you know, the better. Don’t bother asking again.”

Her tone was sarcastic. “What, is someone gonna torture me to get your name if you miss your mark?”

It was time to go into killer-mode. Maybe it would shut her up. “I never miss my mark,” he said in a flat voice.

She finally caught on that he was serious, yet still wouldn’t stop her incessant questioning. “Riddick, what’s up? What’s wrong with this job? You wouldn’t be so nervous without a reason.”

Riddick opened his mouth to deny his tension, but realized that she was right. He was very edgy about this job. There was just something about that sent up a little red flag. Maybe it was because he had a dependant with him. He wasn’t used to being in charge of someone else’s well-being, and he knew that if something went wrong (which did happen occasionally—why else would he have been being transported back to slam when he met Jack in the first place?), he would be leaving her alone.

He recalled his resolution to take a ‘vacation.’ The very thought seemed absurd. This was how he made his living. This was how he survived—by killing others. He was good, that was all there was to it. It was just a job, but as they said, a killer’s work is never done. There were always other people left to ghost. He kept the little joke to himself. Trade humor, and all that.

After a brief hesitation, he denied it after all. “Nothing. Just remember what I said about running. I’ll find you, so don’t worry about that. But remember, stay on this ship until I come and get you.”

“Whatever.” Jack shrugged and slumped even further into her seat, as if that were even possible. “Fine. I’ll be a good little girl and stay in my room.”

Her room. That was a laugh. The sarcastic jibe at innocence brought a smile cracking onto to his face, surprising him. Focus. He needed to focus on the job at hand, not get drawn into some verbal sparring with a teenage kid. Out loud he said simply, “Good. We’ll dock in about an hour.”

~*~

Bored beyond belief, Jack waited for Riddick to come get her. He had ripped all of the sleeves off of her shirts when he found her first cut, totally ruining all of her clothes. Eh, they were ugly anyway.

She lolled in the pilot’s seat, tapping her fingers impatiently. He’d been gone for over an hour. She wasn’t worried, exactly; more like unsettled. She’d gotten used to his quiet strength, and found that she missed it, even after only an hour. Maybe some of those exercises Riddick showed her would help pass the time. She didn’t want to be all sweaty and gross before she went out, though… she could always shower.

That decided, she sat on the floor of the main cabin and began the pre-workout stretches Riddick taught her. She remembered his plan to get a bigger ship and install a fully equipped dojo. Just thinking about it made her grin. She loved working out with him. She really enjoyed the feeling of power she got, the total rush when she finally got some form or move right.

She’d gotten a hell of a lot stronger, too. She surprised Riddick with an elbow jab to the gut during one of their sparring matches. He hadn’t even grunted; he promptly knocked her on her ass, instead. She saw the bruise on his stomach the next day when he stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Did I do that?” she asked in surprise.

“Yeah. Not bad for a squirt.”

“Hey!” She’d smacked his shoulder for that little jibe, and in response he grabbed her wrist, spun her around so that her arm was across her chest, and brought his free hand to her throat.

“Careful. You need to learn this move and how to get out of it, when you get a little taller. But you’ve always got to be quick.”

“Always a teacher, huh?”

“Only around you, kid.”

She smiled quietly, remembering the occasion. She couldn’t recall ever being this happy. The irony of her life didn’t escape her. She’d spent her entire life being brutalized by men, and the only person she felt truly safe around was one of the most wanted murderers in the Consortium.

“What a life,” she muttered, changing position in preparation for some pushups.

~*~

“What’s wrong with your life? I thought you liked it here,” Riddick said, startling her intentionally. He knew that she had been oblivious to his presence.

She stood up and spun around, much quicker than she’d even been before. He smiled in approval. The kid was getting pretty good.

“Not bad. Next time though, pay more attention to what’s going on around you. If I were out to kill you, you’d-“

“Be dead already,” she finished for him. He suppressed a small laugh. He knew he said that way too often, but if she was able to finish his sentences for him, then he was getting entirely too predictable.

“Chill out, Ricky. You’re not out to ghost me, so there’s no reason to worry. So, can we go shopping now?”

Riddick rolled his eyes, knowing that she couldn’t tell because of his dark goggles. “Is that all girls think about? Shopping?”

She turned slightly giddy. “Uh-huh. When you haven’t had new clothes in… well, forever, the prospect can get pretty exciting. So… can we go shopping now? Please?”

Riddick gave one of his grinning smirks, rolling inside with unreleased mirth. He got such a kick out of this girl. It was difficult for him to allow anyone in, but she had become very important to him. She meant something to him. It was still a new experience for the killer, though they’d been together for some time.

Jack was practically jumping up and down waiting for an answer, and he finally gave in. “Yeah. Go get cleaned up.”

“Yes!” She danced over to him, threw her arms around his large chest and leaned up, kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you thank you thank you!” She went tearing off toward the shower, and Riddick burst out laughing. Girls were… odd. Especially the teenaged variety.

The progress she’d made in just three months was amazing, he mused as he stored the supplies he bought. He never set out to be a shrink, and he definitely never intended to be a babysitter or big brother type of person. The relationship he held with Jack seemed beyond definition. That was all right though; Riddick was the happiest he’d ever been in his life. To think that it was because of a delinquent child with mental health issues was incredible.

She’d pretty much become normal. He watched her for signs of returning depression, but she’d been totally clear for at least three weeks. He knew that she would have eventually recovered regardless, and that it was just a matter of time as long as she was off the street. But still, he liked to pretend that he had something to do with it.

Her meager hair still soaking wet, Jack walked back into the main cabin. “Ready to have fun?” she asked, knowing fully well that he was male and therefore had an inborn genetic aversion to shopping. She confirmed his suspicion by shooting him a look of pure mischief.

Riddick groaned. “At least you don’t have a purse I need to carry.”

She giggled. Giggled! “Nope, because all the money we’re gonna spend comes out of your pocket. Let’s go!”

Three hours, two hundred creds, and seven shopping bags later, Jack announced that she was exhausted and that they needed to go out to eat.

“Why?” Riddick asked, genuinely puzzled. “I dropped off all the food we’ll need at the ship when I came and got you. It should last us until I can get a ship with a food producer.”

Jack shot him a look. “That’s not the point. We’re not going to be back in civilization any time soon, so we need to live it up while we’re here.”

There was no swaying her. Riddick knew from the set of her jaw and the stubborn look in her eye. He didn’t even bother arguing. “Fine. Can we at least drop all of this shit off at the ship first?”

Jack heaved an enormous sigh, as though he declared an intention to perform open-heart surgery on her while drunk.

Riddick chose to interpret that as a yes, not that she had much choice in the matter.

On the way back to the ship, he was decidedly on edge. Jack was off in teenage-land, so she was completely oblivious to the subtleties of Riddick’s emotions. She was deliriously happy over her new clothes, which was exactly what Riddick intended. He didn’t want the craziness of his life to intrude on her happiness. The kid deserved a good time.

There was someone following him; he was sure of it. Whoever it was, the person was good. His approach was almost imperceptible, even to Riddick. He could have handled the situation promptly and efficiently, if Jack weren’t there. He didn’t want to scare her, in case it was nothing.

~*~

Jack, meanwhile, was humming and greedily totaling up everything Riddick had spent on her. She was through-the-roof ecstatic, but stopped humming abruptly when Riddick shoved her away from him. Her confusion was brief, however. She understood when he spoke.

“Get out of here. I’ll find you later, now run!” he hissed, before taking off in the opposite direction.

She was confused, but sharp enough to figure out that a problem that Riddick had warned her about was taking place. “It’s always something,” she muttered as she ran in the Riddick had indicated. The corridors of D7 weren’t especially crowded—in fact, they were practically deserted—so to remain unexposed, she had to duck into the nearest door.

Cheap perfume and liquor assaulted her. The dimly lit room held four or five people. There were doors in the back, which led to various rooms- as she was well aware. She knew that she wasn’t with Charles anymore, that she was all right, but memories slammed into her head just the same. She started trembling as a middle-aged patron approached her.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She kicked him in the groin once, hard, and as he crumpled to the floor she whirled around and hurled herself back into the corridor. Riddick’s tutelage kept her on her toes and the silent conscious comatosis at bay, but she wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. Running with no real destination in mind, she was panicked, haphazardly trying to find a place to hide while attempting to outrun her memories.

A thick arm wrapped itself around her thin body and pulled her into a closet. She started to scream, but the hand attached to the arm covered her mouth.

Riddick whispered, “Shhh.”

At the sound of his voice, she stilled her struggles and sank into his chest. Silent choking sobs wracked her slender frame, and Riddick held her to him for a moment. She took as much comfort as she could from his presence.

After a moment he put his lips close to her ear and whispered, warm breath tickling her ear gently, “Who am I?”

The instigation of the familiar mantra soothed her even further. They worked it out soon after she began training. When she would freak, he would grab her gently and speak to her in a low, calm voice. She had soon gotten used to feeling his touch, and the words they spoke had an instantly soothing effect on her.

“Riddick,” she answered gratefully.

“Who are you?”

“Jack.”

“What are you?”

“Safe.”

“Good girl.”

She saw Riddick watching the crack of light at the bottom doorframe. There were no shadows, no signs of movement.

“Listen to me, kid,” he said. “Are you listening?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Stay here. It’s very important that you stay in this maintenance closet. I’ll come for you, do you understand me? Do not move from this spot. It’s gonna be okay. Are we clear?”

Jack nodded in the near-complete darkness, knowing he could see her.

“Okay. Trust me?”

“I trust you.”

With that he slipped out of the closet and silently shut her in darkness. She sank to the floor with her arms wrapped around her legs, laid her head on her knees, which were tucked under her chin, and forced herself to remain calm.

“Breathe, Jack,” she whispered. “Remember to breathe.”

Her breathing techniques worked. She kept the panic at bay and in the course of waiting several hours for him to come back for her, the slow, measured rise and fall of her chest gradually gave way to the even breathing of sleep.

Riddick didn't come.