He Didn't Come

Riddick clenched his fists angrily as he plowed his way through the bowels of the city. Was he making a mistake? Was she? He didn’t know. Sometimes he felt as though he didn’t know anything anymore, if he ever did. At one point he actually turned around to go back for her, but stopped himself. His rock-hard resolve has almost slipped.

He missed her! He’d spent five years silently fretting about her, but as soon as he’d been able to get to her, she turned him away. The rejection cut him deeper than any shiv ever could. Was this how she’d felt five years ago?

She’d survived, though. She was far stronger, both physically and emotionally, than he’d ever seen her. That fierce wildness that flashed when she yelled, those smooth muscular arms, and those lips that looked so sweet… God, she was beautiful. He knew that she’d be all grown up by the time he found her again, but he hadn’t anticipated it being anything quite like this.

He hated himself for abandoning her, though there was nothing he could have done at the time to prevent it. They both knew that there was no way to change what had happened in the past. He hoped fervently that she would get off her stubborn ass and go to the ship. She had to get rid of her obstinate attitude, because Riddick sure as hell wasn’t getting rid of his own. Please come, kid, he thought, silently willing her to obey.

He couldn’t go back to his ship. There was far too much nervous energy and pent-up frustration jolting through his veins. He decided to take her suggestion and go get laid.

He emerged from the whorehouse about two hours earlier than normal. He had the money and the virility to spend the whole night, but cheap sex just wasn’t doing it for him. Jack’s spitfire face kept intruding, superimposing itself on the prostitute’s fake orgasmic contortions. It was doing nothing but increasing his frustration. Maybe he should never have come, if he was going to react this way toward her. He hoped that it was just because of the distinctive lack of female bodies on Prison Moon.

Tensely shrugging on his leather jacket over a comfortable black T-shirt, he made his way back to the port. He would hold to his word and leave about midmorning. Part of him wanted to run back to her apartment and beg her to join him. Another part—Riddick the killer, the bestial aggression—wanted simply to force his way inside, sling her over his shoulder, and carry her back with him kicking and screaming. He denied all of these desires. She had to want to come. He had to know she didn’t hate him.

As he approached his ship, he noticed a familiar shape on the ground in front of the boarding ramp. Was it? It couldn’t be. He thought it might be her, but he couldn’t tell for sure. He was upwind of the ship, so no telltale scents graced his nose. The sudden need to know if it was her consumed him. She had been deadly serious, despite the pain he had seen in her big eyes. She wouldn’t cave.

….Would she?

~*~

Jack had searched the east end of the port for at least an hour. Then, finding no indication of which ship belonged to the asshole, she’d doubled back and had another careful look at each ship. It wasn’t as though she expected a blinding neon sign illuminating the way, but she’d hoped for at least some indication.

She stopped in front of a medium-sized and otherwise unremarkable ship. That was what had drawn her to it. She thought that it seemed like something Riddick would employ. Spacious, for that dojo he always used to talk about, small enough to handle fairly quickly, but nothing to make it obvious, nothing to make it stand out.

“Riddick, you’d better be in there, or I’ll kill you when I find you,” she angrily growled under her breath. If this wasn’t his ship, she’d die with humiliation. It was now three o’clock in the morning, according to her chrono. If this wasn’t Riddick’s ship, whoever was in there wouldn’t be happy at being disturbed.

With a deep breath, she adjusted her pack nervously and activated the comm unit with artificial bravery. “Hello? Are you in there, Rid—er, Rick? It’s Jack.” She waited for a minute or so before trying again. “Please answer me. Come on, man!”

There was still no response, and she knew that as angry as she’d made him, there was no way he’d be ignoring her. No, he’d be much more likely to come out and threaten to skin her with her own shiv, inch by stubborn inch.

There weren’t that many ships in the east end of the port, and none of the others struck her as Riddick’s style, somehow. With a roll of her eyes, she sat cross-legged in front of the ramp. If he wasn’t home, he would see her when she approached. If he never showed, she would try the comm unit again in the morning.

~*~

Riddick suddenly felt nervous, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He wanted desperately for it to be her. If he had to leave New Mecca without her—and he would—he would always feel bitter and resentful. A large piece of his life would remain raw and without closure. This was her first, last, and only shot at undoing what she did at the apartment. He kept the same steady, powerful pace as he approached. He wouldn’t let himself speed up, much as he wanted to. He wanted to give her no indication of he felt. A cultivated façade of nonchalance and confident indifference was quickly ironed into place.

As he got steadily closer, the wind changed. Yes, definitely her. He debated on whether or not to go into his stealth mode or just walk up in full view. He chose the second option. He knew her well enough not to sneak up on her. She’d only get angry—well, angrier. Then she might change her mind or do something dumb like pull a blade. There was no doubt as to who would lose that particular battle.

Jack heard him approach, as he’d known she would. She was more like him than she realized. He was gratified to see her turn and face the direction from which he was coming. Trying to be subtle while drawing her shiv, she rose and stood, loose but ready. Why would she draw the shiv?

Stopping directly in front of her, he looked her in the eye, purposely deadpan. He considered drawing his own blade, but discarded the idea and remained unarmed. In this situation, the upper hand would not be held with brawn.

“What do you plan on doing with that?” he asked disdainfully.

She lost her tough glare for a moment, and doubtfully looked at the blade in her hand. “I, uh… well….”

Perfect. Riddick brushed by her and keyed in the unlock code. Turning to look back at her, he raised his eyebrows.

“Coming?”

Jack hastily put away her shiv, picked up her backpack—is that all she has?—and followed him into the ship. He usually didn’t turn the lights on at all, since even his shined eyes were used to the darkness of Prison Moon, but for her benefit he called, “Lights to full.”

He heard her gasp, and smiled to himself as he slid into the cockpit. As he notified the port’s night operator that he required clearance to launch, she tossed her backpack on the floor and began exploring behind him. Upon receiving the okay, he locked the electronic ramp and began the standard launching procedure.

Behind him, Jack was gaping at the interior of his ship. There was a conveniently-placed alcove in which he’d installed a fully equipped dojo, as he’d planned so many years ago. He also made sure the main cabin—well, the whole ship actually—was furnished comfortably. There was a kitchenette directly opposite the boarding ramp, and two bedrooms. There was also a bathroom, with all the facilities that a bathroom would have had if it were planetside. He had anticipated taking Jack with him, and ‘decorated’ accordingly. There were no knickknacks or pictures, but at least there was comfortable furniture. The kitchenette was well-stocked, too. Their blow-up fight hadn’t been in his plans at all. Not that it mattered. She was with him now.

Jack joined him in the cockpit and slipped into the copilot’s seat.. She seemed at a loss for words. She got as far as, “Riddick…” before her voice faded.

“Hmm?” he answered, focusing on plotting the correct course. He had a very specific destination in mind, but he wasn’t going to tell her what it was just yet.

When she remained silent, he let it pass. He wanted desperately to know what was going on in her mind, but sensed that it was not the time to press her. Once the course was plotted, he left the cockpit and settled on the couch in the main cabin. It was, of course, black. He wasn’t much for color. His wardrobe attested to that well.

He smiled at her when she followed him.

Sounding slightly unsteady, she said, “So.”

“So,” he agreed, trying not to sound mocking. “What do you think?”

“It’s a hell of a lot better than the last ship you jacked. Well,” she laughed slightly, “I guess I kind of jacked that one, didn’t I?”

Sarcastically he mocked, “Yeah, kind of.” In a more neutral tone, he said, “I didn’t jack this one.”

She looked confused. “You didn’t? But how did you get it?”

“I won it. Some idiot challenged me to a game of shots. After I cut fence, I stowed away on an empty transport. It docked at a substation.” He chuckled briefly. “Stupid guy. Winner takes all. I drank him under the table.”

Jack brightened. “Got any on board?”

He shook his head. “Don’t drink it much. I can just hold twice what other people can and not pass out. Killer hangover, though.”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything else. She just stood in front of him, looking thoughtful. Riddick gestured to the couch. “Take a seat?”

She focused on him, but didn’t move. “Where are we going?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” he lied. “I’m thinking about settling somewhere, actually. For a while, at least. I’m sick of running.”

She smiled. “And yet you ran clear across the universe for my sorry ass.”
Riddick looked at her sternly. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Got it?”
She looked at him with a carefully guarded face. He could almost feel her inner conflict. She wanted to believe him, but he understood why it was so difficult. After what seemed like an eternity, she nodded. He knew she was humoring him, but he hoped fervently that she would believe him in time.

Riddick stood and placed his big hands on her graceful shoulders. “Jack, you need to trust me.”

She whispered, “I’m trying.” Without warning, she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his body. He followed suit, enfolding her in his arms, finally holding her. He’d wanted to hold her so many times in the past five years. They had been completely innocuous desires, though. He had only wanted to comfort her, and reassure himself that she was okay. He stamped down his new feelings on the subject and focused on the original idea. Comfort her. Just comfort her, he said silently.

“It’s so good to have you back, Riddick. I missed you so fucking much….” she murmured into his shirt.

“I’m here now.” She pressed herself closer to his rock-hard body. He stroked her hair, and he felt her chest hitch.

“Jack, don’t cry. It’s okay. I promise, I won’t leave you again.”