In Consequence

THREE


When Jack woke up again, she ran to the head. She thought that her nausea was due to the emotional turmoil she had been going through, but there was something else going on.

She had emptied her stomach the night before, so all she could do was dry-heave and grimace with the pain of it. This was the last thing she needed. Her ‘flu shot should have been good for another six months. Just her luck to get a dud. It wasn’t like she could expect Riddick to take care of her like Imam would have.

Shit. Imam. She clenched her eyes shut and tried to force thoughts of her surrogate father out of her mind altogether. She couldn’t stand to think that she would never see him again.

Even if she could get a message to him, there was nothing he could do. Legally, she was Riddick’s property. If she went back to Imam, he could be charged with theft. Not even kidnapping—theft. That was how fucked up the whole universe was.

Another dry-heave took her by surprise. When she was done retching, she hauled herself up and staggered back to Riddick’s room. Collapsing on her mattress, she barely registered that Riddick was following her until his shadow loomed over her sweaty body. Yes, sweaty. She was getting a fever. Could this get any more perfect? Could she be rendered even more helpless?

“Go away,” she croaked at him through a raw throat.

He didn’t. Well, it wasn’t as though she expected him to. She lolled back on her pillow and tried to ignore his existence. He wasn’t making it easy on her, though. He stepped up and kneeled beside her. One imposing hand made its way to her face. Jack gritted her teeth and jerked her head away.

Riddick didn’t say a word as he set a hand on her brow. She didn’t miss the frown that flashed across his face, but couldn’t figure out what it meant. He wasn’t concerned, was he?

His palm moved to her cheek. She flinched. “Leave me alone,” she whimpered.

“You’re sick,” he responded.

Jack gave a caustic, barking laugh. “You think? Let me sleep. I’ll be fine.”

Riddick rose and moved away. Jack barely noticed as she drifted into a feverish world of nightmarish dreams.

~*~

Riddick logged on and looked up Jack’s symptoms. He heard her retching in the head, so that would be vomiting, fever, exhaustion… he never got sick, himself. He didn’t know the first thing about illness, or what to do about it. When he was prepping for Jack’s arrival, he stocked up on first aid and all sorts of medications. First aid, he was more than familiar with. Illness, though—he didn’t have a clue about how to administer medicine.

After about twenty minutes of searching, he thought he had a decent prognosis. What he had thought might be the ‘flu was a stomach virus. Just beautiful.

He dug around in the medlock and found an anti-diarrhea medication. Checking the label, he found that it was good for upset stomachs and general ‘flu-like symptoms. That, at least, was helpful.

He made his way back to his room and to his slave. This oddly remote concern was a new emotion for him. He hadn’t anticipated so many things with this Master/slave relationship that he should have seen coming. In all of his careful planning, he had never considered that he would be Jack’s sole provider. She was his responsibility, utterly and completely. Fuck, he hadn’t even realized what he was getting himself into.

He had to rouse her in order to administer the medication. She was burning up, and sweat was dripping from her body. Once he got her to swallow all of it, he picked her up and steered her to the head. What he was about to do would scare the shit out of her, but it couldn’t be helped. He needed to get her fever down, and this was the quickest way he knew how.

“Jack,” he growled, jostling her as he tried to set her on her feet. “Wake up.”

“I’m awake,” she grunted. “I just… Riddick, let me sleep.”

“Take your clothes off,” he ordered, turning on the shower to just above its coldest setting.

“What? Are you crazy?” That seemed to perk her up, or at least make her more aware.

“I’ve got to get your fever down. Get your clothes off and get in the shower.”

Jack swayed and leaned against the wall. “No.”

“Don’t be stupid, Jack. I’m not going to hurt you, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

She didn’t answer, and Riddick had had enough. He picked her up and physically stood her in the shower, clothes and all. He hoped that she would be able to maintain her balance, but she began swaying even more precariously. “Fuck,” he muttered, and kicked off his boots. He wasn’t looking forward to this.

Jack barely seemed to register that he was stepping in the shower with her until he wrapped his arms around her waist, supporting her under the chilling spray. He was expecting her to rail at him, to curse him and fight to get away, but instead, she leaned back against his chest. That worried him more than anything else. Just how sick was she?

Once her skin felt sufficiently cooler, he turned off the water and carefully maneuvered her out of the cramped shower stall. He was freezing. Both of their clothes were soaked. He hauled out a towel and wrapped her in its coarse fibers, rubbing her down briskly. “Okay, listen up. You need to take those wet clothes off. I’m not trying to scare you, but now that you’ve cooled down some, I need to warm you up.”

“Riddick, what are you doing?” Jack moaned, as he worked on stripping her shirt from her body. It was clinging to her like shrink-wrap, and the carnal side of his mind was relishing the experience. He took the time to admire the way her nipples stood on end. Beautiful. Sexy.

“Relax, Jackie.” Her jeans were too difficult to remove, so in the end he just cut them off with a few well-placed slices, courtesy of the business end of his shiv. Once she was naked, he could see that her fever had indeed broken. In fact, she looked like she was freezing. Now to get her warmed up.

He sat her down and stripped his own clothing from his body. In part, he was glad that Jack was sick. This gave him an opportunity to examine her body without her fighting him. Riddick knew that only a sick, sick man would think that way, but every shrink ever to evaluate him had said he was nuts.

Admiring her lithe form even as he dried himself off, any second thoughts he may have had about claiming her suddenly dissipated. She was gorgeous. More than gorgeous—she was his. No one else’s.

And that meant that he needed to take care of her. All right. Fine. He could do that. Riddick could get his girl healthy again. Once more, the enormity of his task rose up and slapped him in the face, but this time, he stared it down.

He picked Jack up and carried her into his bedroom, where he laid her on his bed and quickly got dressed. His next order of business was to head the galley for some water. He seemed to remember reading that it was important to stay hydrated when fighting a virus like this. He didn’t believe that Jack was in any real danger, but he didn't like taking the chance.