False Dawn

Riddick managed to sleep for a couple of hours. The anti-climatic reunion with Jack had left him feeling restless. Being on an unknown ship made him want to search the place out, but he didn't know how Jack would react, and didn't want to push her.

He redressed in his discarded clothes and eased the door to the main room open. Jack wasn't there. The next door down was closed, making him assume it was another bedroom. As the hours passed he couldn't keep from snooping as much as he dared.

He sat in the pilot's chair and could see immediately that it had been made for her, or at least modified. It was a seat for someone who didn't move from it for long lengths of time.

The terminals and computer systems still astounded him. Why would Jack have a need for all that high-tech equipment? Was it just greed? With the fiery way she'd reacted to his accusations of petty larceny, he figured there was more to it. But what? What had they done to her to cause this one-woman crusade against one of the biggest and most powerful companies in the universe?

His attempts at accessing her systems were met with very poor results. It was all locked up tight, with a failsafe to purge all should it be penetrated. That didn't look promising, and he wondered what was there that needed so much protection.

The chrono said seven hundred hours when Jack reappeared, showered and redressed. He was in the co-pilot's seat and turned to watch her cross to her seat without even glancing at him, her face closed. She instantly had access to her system, making him roll his eyes. The chair. It recognized her. No wonder he hadn't been able to get in. He watched her program the ship's course, moving in an Earthward direction, but targeted to the nearest habitable planet. She'd been serious, she was setting him down.

"Looking for something?"

He raised a brow. "What?" She'd been working with the system nearest her, the one he had tried to get into.

She shook her head, "Two hundred and thirty foreign keystrokes. You gave up rather easily."

He shrugged, "Didn't want to purge the system."

She glanced back and gave him a crooked smile, "Naw, it wouldn'tna dumped. That's just a little threat."

He tilted his head. "Worked."

Her back was to him when static sounded from a comm connection and then a male's voice was heard. "Glad to see you're still around," the man said to Jack.

She snorted in response to the teasing remark, "Did you expect less?"

The man on the comm. was definitely smiling when he answered, "Of course not. But with the whole universe after your ass, I thought someone might get lucky."

She chuckled, sitting back in her chair, "Luck is a myth. I got it done, and you'd kinda be left hangin' a bit if I hadn't made it."

Riddick frowned, wondering who this man was that Jack was dealing with, and what he was doing for her. Cynically he wondered also, what she was doing for him, and couldn't stop the rush of jealous anger.

Then he was speaking, "Yeah, Jack, wanted to talk to you about that. This guy you dumped on me . . ." he let his sentence trail off, and then paused for a moment before continuing. "I'm tempted to hose him down if I wasn't worried he'd short out, but he never leaves that damn computer."

Riddick heard Jack chuckle, "You'll survive, Trow. We need Chip, and he did shower once before I brought him to you." She chuckled softly, as Riddick wondered what they needed Chip for, though it did explain her suped up systems. And what the hell had Jack offered the little man to get him to move from his little place on Tiborne 1? Jack continued, "And you better watch what you say," she told Trow. "He's probably got your entire ship wired and is listening even now."

Trow was silent for a moment and then said in a softer voice, "He had better not."

Jack just shrugged. Silence for a long moment. Then she said, "I have a passenger."

Silence. Riddick was intrigued, and surprised. The man knew. By just those simple words Trow knew who was with her. He grinned when the man spoke again, "Well, wouldn't I make some money for turning in that ship."

Jack chuckled as well, "Do it, asshole. We'd enjoy hunting you down."

Riddick was nearly ashamed at the joy he felt at hearing her call them a 'we'. How pathetic, that after everything, after all he'd been through, he needed this woman so much that he was willing to accept scraps from her.

Trow caught the referral as well, "Oh, so you're a 'we' now?"

Jack was silent for a moment and then nearly crushed his heart, if that's what that horrible clenching feeling was. "A slip of the tongue. He'll be departing shortly."

Trow chuckled, "Yeah, would love to have seen that reunion. Jack castrates the poor guy while he just wants that slip of the tongue to be put to use on him."

Riddick repressed a laugh. Whoever this guy was, Riddick liked him already. He could see the stiff anger of Jack's position as she sat up straight again. She wasn't enjoying Trow's humor as much as he was. "Do you have anything useful or am I free to cut you off now?" she snapped.

Silence with just the hint of what Riddick thought could be laughter. "Seriously, Jack, and you know my opinion of the guy, I think you should cut him in. We could use him."

"No."

Silence. Riddick had to wonder what had passed before, for Trow to so easily say he didn't like Riddick. Then Trow spoke again softly, "Think about what we're doing this for and answer that again."

"Fuck you, Trow," she whispered and reached for the unit. The connection was lost, but Jack didn't move.

Riddick didn't make a sound. If Jack needed him he'd be there for her, possibly even against her wishes. Trow sounded like he might be an ally, which made him wonder what the hell Jack was even doing with the guy. Trow's humor had seemed accepted by Jack, making him think that it was a normal thing, which made him wonder how two such opposite people could've met up and become friends. What was their connection? And what were they doing? Whatever it was, he guessed it involved Chem Industries and then they would need all the help they could get. At least it wasn't just petty thievery like he'd assumed.

Finally she turned to him, her eyes thoughtful as she stared at him. "Can you tell me one thing?" she asked softly.

"What?"

Her lips thinned at his response, obviously not pleased with his easy compliance.

"Why? Why didn't you try to get me out?" She wouldn't look at him and he knew he'd hurt her more than she'd ever admit by simply deserting her that day, and by her account, every day since. He didn't know what had been done to her, but if his experiences with CI were an example of their hospitality then she had been through a lot.

His voice was rough when he spoke, "I thought you were dead." His reason seemed pathetic now, for obviously it had never been true. He should have looked harder. He should have gone back. He should have never fuckin' left!

She snorted, "Hell, I am, didn't you hear? Audrey Nevada never existed. That makes me feel kinda special. I don't exist."

He just watched her, hating that she had gone through . . . whatever on her own, but also feeling his anger stir slightly that she blamed him for any of it. "Jack, you know I would have come for you if I'd known."

She took a deep breath and then nodded, biting her lower lip for a moment. "Yeah," she whispered to herself, making him wonder if she really did believe it. Her gaze lowered, her brow creased in thought, until she finally looked up at him again. "Okay. I'll let you in," she said with a sigh, "I'm not too fuckin' happy about it, but I trust you and Trow's right." She turned back to the ship's controls and then looked at him, "Anything you need from the Argentine?"

"Not enough to go back."

She nodded, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she bent to the ships controls and changed the course. Whatever he might need, even the ship itself wasn't worth the risk of her getting caught.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Mars."

A half an hour later she sat back from the controls, the entire route programmed. They were a week out. Riddick had remained silent as she worked. His reaction to the news that they were going to Mars had been that deadpan silence of his. Now that she knew of his extensive involvement with CI, she wondered if that was where he had called home for the years they had trained him.

"What am I being let in on?" he asked finally.

She knew he had to hate not knowing. Her continued silence was causing that unmistakable hardening of his jaw. He was getting pissed, and she honestly didn't blame him. In his place she would have wanted to know everything up front, not let in as the useful thug.

When she turned and looked him straight in the eye she could literally see the softening of his face. He never could hold onto his anger around her.

"Riddick, there's no easy way to tell you any of this. You may hate me for my part in this, and that's fine, cuz there have been times I've hated you for your part in it." She smiled at this point, and suddenly Riddick really didn't want to know. He didn't want to know something that could make her think he might hate her, or vice versa. But she continued relentlessly, and his mind had only half-formed the thought that he'd never done anything to this degree wrong. "I went through this alone, Riddick. And I think I've done damn well despite what you might accuse me of. I'm sorry, if it's worth anything."

She stood and he grudgingly did the same, following her when she indicated him to. She walked into room she'd emerged from only minutes ago and called 'lights to half'.

One wall held a small arsenal neatly locked into cases. The bed was still disheveled from her sleeping there. Two doors led off to the right, bathroom and he assumed the other was a closet. Another computer system was on a small desk, and above and around it on the walls were dozens of pictures. Some were of her, some of him, but most were of an infant.

He frowned, staring, dread creeping though him.

A framed holographic photo of him sat on the monitor and he picked it up, seeing by the fingerprints on it that it had been handled a lot. As the picture tilted it changed, the two images were lined up perfectly, eye meeting eye, mouth meeting mouth. The infant's face matched his perfectly. It was a younger, softer, pudgier version of him.

He dropped the picture, making it clatter loudly on the desktop. He instinctively took a step back his head jerking up to narrow eyes at the woman regarding him closely yet expressionless to the point of apathy. "What the fuck is this?"

But his mind didn't need the answer, quickly filing in what he was seeing and connecting in horrible ways. Chem Industries, of course, they had been the scourge of his life. He'd been tested extensively for his 'healing capabilities', and it looked like Chem Industries was starting early on this little guy.

"This is our son, Riddick. Currently named Generation 3."

Riddick shook his head, more at hearing what he didn't want to, than denial. He leaned in closer to the pictures, almost unwillingly. If Chem Industries had this child, his child, it was in great danger. The pictures showed exactly that. The remarkably smiling infant was displaying every sort of disrepair, and showing some extensive scarring already.

He had long ago decided it was best for everyone, especially the innocent offspring, if he didn't reproduce. What kind of a life could an escaped convicted murderer give a child? And he doubted the universe would be very tolerable of little Big Evils, which wasn't a good way to start out your life.

"Why? How? When?" The words growled out of him, voicing the questions that were running through his head.

She gave him a sarcastic lift of her eyebrows. "Well, I hope you would know the 'how' and 'when'. The rest is pretty self-explanatory too. There's just bits you don't know really."

Riddick was listening to her, but his eyes continued to scan the pictures. The pictures of his son. The child seemed happy, oblivious to the various states of injury.

Jack continued, "When we were both shot last year, I was taken in by Chem Industries. I'd been infected by your blood." That got his attention. She nodded at his sharp look, "You're a test subject, Riddick. The fetus, you, was injected with the AR-Virus. It's been amazingly successful by Chem Industries accounts," she said, her voice dripping derision.

"The healing," he whispered.

She smiled grimly, "Very good. Regenerative qualities can only be tested with repeated injuries." She emphasized each word as she said them. "One of the subjects was killed when they tried to see how much she could withstand."

"Others?"

"Oh! Yeah, you were only one of ten. Six boys, four girls. I was unable to find their entire files. So they could all be dead now for all I know." She was standing back from him, making him feel too vile to even touch, her arms crossed indifferently over her chest as she regarded him.

"You're infected?" he whispered, the anger he'd been feeling toward her for enjoying any of this faded in rush of disgust toward himself.

She smiled now sadly, "Yes. I quote: 'Female subject is undeniably infected'. Kinda warms the heart, don't it?" She waited a beat and then continued, "I became the first subject of Generation 2. Stupid fuckers never thought about you spreading it to others, I guess, though they were quite pleased with the implications. Our son is infected as well, doubly, I suppose."

Riddick pulled the chair from the desk and sat, dropping his head into his hands. He was infected with some unknown virus? And he'd infected Jack? That thought alone made him want to be sick. She didn't deserve this. And she'd gone through all if this on her own, because he'd left her. By instinctively doing what he'd always done, simply trying to survive, he'd ruined both of their lives, and left his son in the hands of monsters.

"How did they get him?" he whispered.

Jack's voice snapped out, "It wasn't very difficult. They had me. They took him. Drugged me and took him. I came to on a planet I'd never been on. The hospital brought me a dead baby, said I'd been found with him. I just thought things went bad, that CI dumped us to wash their hands. Here's the baby I mourned for six months." She lifted a silver urn carefully from the shelf nearby. He could see by the way she handled it, setting it gently back into place that she was still attached to the infant who's remains she had. "I had nothing," she continued. "No clothes, no money, nowhere to go. I hired on with Trow as a pilot until we landed on Tiborne 1 after about six months. Chip had continued his research, had gotten the information I'd asked for, plus a little extra for the time delay." She rolled her eyes. "Generation 3 of the AR-Virus was the son I thought I'd been carrying the ashes of with me for half a year."

"Why didn't you find me?" he asked too harshly, letting out some of what he was feeling towards himself.

She snorted, "How, Riddick? I didn't know where you were. The rest of the fucking universe can't find you, how was I supposed to? And I didn't know if I was being watched. I couldn't just lead them to you. And after sitting in a little fucking room for eight months I wasn't in a big hurry to see you. After all that time I kinda got the feeling you might not want to see me either."

"Jack, I thought you were fucking dead!" he growled, no longer able to take her condemning attitude.

She nodded, not reacting to his anger in the least. "How'd that feel, by the way?" She swallowed and glanced away as soon as she'd said the words, thankfully not seeing his eyes tear before he dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry, Riddick, that was uncalled for. I know you didn't ask for any of this to happen and it's kind of a shitty thing to find out." She walked to the door, her arms still crossed over her chest. "Lights low," she said and turned back to look at him. "For what it matters, I'm sorry. You don't need to be hurt anymore." She took a deep breath. "This computer isn't locked down if you want to look. The files Chip gave me are there. I'll be in the cockpit."

Then she was gone and Riddick ached to see her walk away from him. He needed her. More than anything, he just fucking needed her with him. But he didn't blame her for walking away, for hating him, if that was indeed what she felt, which was how it seemed. She didn't need to be hurt anymore either, but it appeared she was using it as a shield, wrapping herself in her anger until nothing else mattered. As he stared at the Chem Industries logo on the monitor he thought that might be a damn good idea.