False Dawn

A feathery touch on her arm made her jerk, pulling away from the touch. The baby was on his knees beside her and she cried out as she pulled him to her, wrapping his little body around her. She scooted further away from Riddick, or whatever he had become, but didn't take her eyes from him. Then she just held her son, rocking herself and him as one.

"Oh, baby, what's wrong with him? What the fuck is wrong with him?" She was whispering the words, trying to make some sense of it. How could he be dead but still moving? And trying to bite her? He'd fucking tried to EAT her!

"Mama," the baby said in his little stilted voice and Jack just hugged him tighter.

"Yeah, baby, Mama's here now. It's okay."

His little hands were on her neck, feeling cool and amazingly soft against her skin. "Mama," he said, louder this time.

Jack frowned as she suddenly realized she was feeling something on her neck, or more in her hair. She could feel his fingers touching her skin, and then not, like there was something there. As his little fingers played over whatever it was she felt it, not move, but just it's presence.

She gasped and released the baby with one hand to feel the back of her head. Holy shit! There was something sticking out of her head! Her fingertips traced over it. It felt like metal, just the bare edge of something bigger that was buried in her skull! It was some sort of slot, her fingernail ran over it. It didn't hurt in the least, but felt weird to be touching something that was embedded in her skull!

Jack's eyes were now dry, the shock removing even the will to cry. Her swollen eyes focused on the baby. He'd known.

He smiled as if pleased by her reaction as he looked up at her, "Key, mama."

Her finger playing over the tiny slot agreed. It felt like a small keycard slot, barely a half an inch long.

"Key, Mama!" he cried, obviously pleased with himself.

When the hell had she gotten that? The answer was easy. Chem Industries. They'd stuck something in her head!

The baby lifted his hand to his own neck and she gasped in realization. She grabbed him roughly and turned him. His neck was flawless, but when she pulled his little shirt down she saw it immediately. He had a little metal slot in his back. She started crying again. The bastards had done this to her son! She traced her finger over the slick metal, wishing them all to hell for doing this to him.

"Key, Dada."

Jack just blinked. The silliest thoughts ran through her head. How did he know they were his parents? Was it normal for a baby not even a year old to be speaking so well, and making fucking sense?! He was telling her, practically showing her. But the thought that she could do something to help Riddick was almost slow in coming.

"Key, Dada," the baby repeated, his head turning to look at he huge squirming man on the floor only feet away.

Jack looked there too. She was just struck anew that he was moving when she knew he was actually dead, no pulse, no breath. Even if there was a little slot in his back, what did it matter? He was dead. She was almost limp with the misery and hurt that that thought alone caused. Riddick wasn't supposed to die. How would she live without him? He'd been such a huge part of her life for so long, even when he wasn't right there. Through the last couple years she'd been hurt, scared, mad, but she'd never stopped loving him. It was Riddick. She would love him until she died.

The baby climbed from her lap and she turned her head listlessly to watch him. He wasn't moving towards Riddick, which hurt her to even be thankful for. She didn't want to have to protect their child from him. Tears flowed again at the thought. Riddick would never get to hold their child.

The pack that Jack had worn had been dropped sometime. She truly didn't remember taking it off. But it had slid back to the hatch, which was really only feet away.

"Gun, Mama," he said as he reached the bag, still crawling and pulled at it.

'Oh, yeah. My kid wants to play with a gun', she thought with a small snort. She crawled over to him. "No, baby, no guns." She pulled the pack away, but stopped when he whined.

"Gun, Mama." He reached for the bag, and she automatically unzipped it, showing him what was inside.

"No guns, baby. You can't play with . . ." She stopped as she stared at what she had been trying to show him. The file she'd taken was nearly mangled after being crushed and abused by the tools she'd taken from his room.

The baby smiled and sat back on his feet in that way that made Jack wonder how children could be so limber. How could he sit on his butt, and still have his feet back there?

"Gun, Mama," he repeated.

She blinked, pulling her thoughts away from the void they seemed to be headed for. The stupidest thoughts kept coming to her and she squeezed her eyes shut to clear her head. When she looked again she could see that one of the tools did look a bit like a gun. She picked it up slowly, turning it to look at it. Instead of a hole where the barrel should be there was a rather complicated computer chip looking thing, like a circuit. She turned it over, looking for anything else, but that was it. Just the tiny arm connecting the 'chip' to the barrel.

"Gun, Mama."

"Yeah, baby, it does look like a gun, but--."

"Key, Dada." His little voice silenced her.

She stared at the 'chip' in sudden understanding. It was the perfect shape and size to fit into the slot that they each had on them, assuming Riddick had one.

"Baby, what's it going to do?" she whispered. She knew Riddick was in truth 'dead', but with him still moving it was kind of hard to accept. Strangely, she didn't want to hurt him, and she didn't want to kill him for real.

Of course, he didn't answer. What had she expected, an explanation? 'Daddy's dead, and this will kill him the rest of the way'? 'Stick it in and put him out of his misery for good'? She started crying at the thought. She didn't understand why Riddick was dead but not dead, but at least she still had him in some ways.

She stood with the gun, her movements lethargic and automatic. "Stay here, baby," she told him and moved slowly over to where Riddick was laying.

He'd managed to turn himself a bit, spinning his body so he was looking at them, she guessed. The spine-chilling chanting had stopped, but as she moved closer he started again. "Jaaaaaaaack," he crooned, making her shiver. It was the most dreadful thing she'd ever heard. His deep voice cooing her name over and over, garbling the sound until she barely recognized her own name.

She stepped over him, putting one foot on either side of him, seeing his hands reach for her, though his arms couldn't move. Setting the gun aside for now she pulled her knife and sat on his back. His fingers curled around to pinch and claw at her, but she could deal with that. She pulled his vest away from his skin and started cutting. The material was thick, testing the razor sharpness of her knife.

Finally, his vest and shirt cut out of the way, exposing that beautiful wide back, she put the knife away.

There was no slot on him. She scowled at his back, and then started rubbing him. Surely if she and the baby each had one, he'd have one. She ran her hands down his back and finally found it, or what she thought was it. Leaning closer, she pressed into his back. Yes. It was there, but it was covered. His skin had actually grown to cover the damn thing.

She pulled her knife again and carefully slid the tip over the slot, cutting away the skin. Riddick didn't react to her cutting him at all. His fingers just continued to pick at her lower back, starting to dig in.

Blood oozed sluggishly down his back in both directions, making her frown at the strangeness of it. Was it coagulating? Without thinking about it, she touched her finger to the thick slow-moving trail. She rubbed the stickiness between her fingers in a sort of daze, marveling that the clotting blood was actually coming out of him while he was still moving. Would he begin to stiffen? She shuddered at the thought.

Putting the knife away, she picked up the gun and then just sat there. The baby was sitting to her side, just in her peripheral vision, so she knew he was safe without really thinking about it.

She didn't want to do this. Didn't want to kill him for real. But it was obvious that he couldn't stay in the state he was in now. If his blood was already cooling, then the unthinkable had begun. He would start to rot. Her lip curled in disgust at the possibility, and she wished, wishing she didn't have the knowledge that told her it was very likely. Despite his still miraculous movement, he was dead.

"I'm sorry, Riddick," she whispered and leaned down to kiss the back of his head. He turned his head, his mouth opening and closing, but not speaking. Her mouth was just over his ear and temple, and she kissed him again, feeling how cool his skin was. "I love you."

She sat up, tears rolling down her face. The gun seemed evil in her hand, but she lined the small chip up with the vertical slot in his back and pushed. The chips slid easily in, almost feeling pulled. Riddick grunted, but then just went on calling her name in that slow singsong way. Jack closed her eyes, her finger wrapped around the trigger, and squeezed.

He screamed! An inhuman sound of pain. Jack screamed too. "Oh, my God!" She released the trigger instinctively, trying to stop his pain. But the trigger didn't spring back out, and Riddick screamed again. His body convulsed beneath her. Jack cried out and pulled at the gun, hating to hear him scream. But the gun wouldn't move and he just screamed again. His body jerked solidly beneath her, nearly unseating her, and he screamed again. She could see the muscles straining through his body, his neck, his back, his arms. He screamed again and then the gun just came free.

Jack was panting, staring at the gun in her hand, and then down at the still body beneath her. He didn't move, didn't twitch. She paused for several breath-held moments and then burst into tears, throwing the atrocious gun away. Needing to get away from him, she practically fell off of him. She pulled herself towards the baby and dragged him onto her lap.

"Oh, God, what have I done?" she rocked his little body, holding him to her tightly. "Oh, God. I killed him. I killed him." Fresh tears ran down her face and she buried he face against the top of his head, his hair soft on her cheek.

"Dada," he crooned.

Jack just cried. 'No, no daddy now', her mind whispered, her heart wrenching at the thought. Riddick was gone. It just didn't seem possible.

A loud snap broke the silence and Jack jerked around. She gasped, staring frantically, and fell backwards, kicking with her feet. Riddick was sitting up, his arms free. She watched him reach down and pull the ties at his ankles, easily snapping them away.

"Oh, God!" she whispered hoarsely, seeing the difference, seeing how strong he was. She couldn't survive that again, she just couldn't. "No. Please."

He looked up at her and she cried out, pushing them further away from him. The baby squirmed in her grip, whining at the force she was using. She eased a bit, hating hurting him at all. He slid from her grasp, wiggling free. Jack watched as if in slow motion as he toddled on shaky steps towards Riddick.