The Things That Happen

Author's Note: Here's my fourth offering...and I think that's all I have to say about it. Read, review, and enjoy.

Disclaimer: *insert own words for my lack of ownership here*

~*~*~*~

Imam’s house was a cool retreat from the brightness of Helion Prime. Riddick and Kyra waited outside as the holy man’s wife and daughter left on a trip to the market. Then Kyra picked the lock on the back door and let them in. Moving through the open rooms of the house, she ran careful fingers over the familiar furniture.

“The house hasn’t changed much,” she said to herself. She could feel Riddick watching her. It was making her nervous.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Kyra announced suddenly. “Imam will be home soon.”

“I’ll wait for him,” Riddick said, and settled himself in a corner. She nodded and went up the stairs. The bathroom off the guest room was just as she remembered it – clean and neutral. Dropping her bag to the tiled floor, she turned on the water. She stripped off her clothes as steam filled the room, leaving them in a heap next to her bag.

The hot water coursed over her body, turning red as it ran toward the drain. Kyra could feel the slickness of the dried blood as it washed off her. There was a new bar of soap resting in a dish attached to the wall; she grabbed it and began to scrub viciously at her skin. Suddenly she felt dirty – soiled and stained beyond recognition. She had never liked killing people, probably because she still had a bit of a conscience. Breathing hard, she worked the soap into her skin until she felt raw.

Kyra squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face up to the spray. Lathering her hands, she worked the soap into her hair and over her face. Slowly, she felt the water begin to soothe her and she rinsed the suds away.

Letting out a sigh, Kyra shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. She wrapped a large beige towel around her body and tucked the end between her breasts. Idly, she wondered if Imam was home yet. She wiped the fog of steam off the mirror and glanced at her reflection. Growling, she bent to pick up her clothes and bag.

Kyra opened the bathroom door and stepped into the guest room. The doors to the balcony were thrown wide open, allowing a light breeze to filter through the room. Setting her things on the perfectly made bed, she crossed to the open French doors and let the cooling evening air wash over her. The soft breath of wind began drying the drops of water still clinging to her skin.

“You gonna get dressed?” a deep rumble said from behind her. Kyra turned quickly, clutching her towel tight around her. Riddick stood, leaning nonchalantly against the door.

“What?”

“You gonna get dressed, or should I find another place to crash?” He was holding a cup of something in one hand as he watched her. Kyra ran a hand over her face and into her hair.

“Yeah. Hang on a sec.” She crossed back to the bed and dug through her bag for clean clothes. Pulling out a pair of faded black pants and a dingy white top, she retreated to the bathroom again.

Riddick watched her go with a raised eyebrow; she seemed skittish. Setting down his empty cup, he carefully moved all of Kyra’s things off the bed and lay down. He pulled off his goggles and folded his hands behind his head, pushing away thoughts of Kyra dressed only in a towel, with water still beading on her soft skin. He needed to think about some things. Like the kid.

She was uncomfortable here – he could tell that much. That meant he couldn’t leave her here with the holy man. Staring at the ceiling, he mentally reviewed the changes to the plan. He needed to get hold of some old contacts about a ship. Maybe he could trade the merc ship in on something larger?

Finally, he let his eyes slip closed and his mind drift.

In the bathroom, Kyra quickly pulled on her under things and pants. She had forgotten about the bandage on her side and it had gotten wet in the shower. Now, she yanked it off and tossed it in the trash. Peeking into the medicine cabinet above the sink, she found some gauze and disinfectant. She carefully cleaned the wound and replaced the bandage. When she finished, she slipped her top over her head and hung the discarded towel up over the shower curtain rod to dry.

When she opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom, Kyra found Riddick asleep on top of the covers. She smiled as she noticed the careful pile of her things on the floor. Moving silently, she closed and locked the balcony doors and sat in a large chair tucked in a corner across from the bed. In the dim light of the setting sun, she watched Riddick sleep.

He really was handsome, she decided, considering him as he rested. As the room grew darker, Kyra watched him turn onto his side. She yawned and stood, stretching. Grabbing a few blankets out of the linen closet next to the bathroom, she lay down on the floor and closed her eyes.

After tossing and turning for some time, Kyra sat up. This wasn’t working. Cautiously, she glanced at Riddick, asleep on the bed. Maybe she could sleep with him? They could share the same bed, anyway. She finally gave in and folded up her blankets. Padding barefoot to the bed, she crawled under the thin top sheet and lay down. The warmth of Riddick’s body at her back comforted her and eased her tense muscles. Soon, she was dozing as well.

~*~*~*~

Riddick woke as the first rays of light slipped between the heavy drapes. He tried to sit up, but an odd pressure on his chest stopped him. As he turned to look, he saw Kyra curled up on her side, one hand tucked under her chin and her head lying on his shoulder. He smiled a little. Just like a kid, he thought. Clearing his throat, he gave her a soft nudge.

Kyra’s eyes opened and blinked. “What?” she asked, looking up at Riddick. Realizing how she was positioned, she blushed and sat up quickly. “Sorry,” she muttered. He chuckled and rolled off the bed.

“Imam said he wants us to avoid his wife and daughter, if we can. Holy man doesn’t want us convicts to scare his family.” Picking up his cup from the night before, Riddick moved to the bathroom. The warning was unspoken – stay here until I get back. Kyra nodded as she slipped out from under the covers.

While Riddick was in the shower, she made the bed, replaced the blankets in the closet, and tried to organize her things. Picking up her bag, she accidentally dumped the contents all over the floor. She quickly shoved the clothes and candles back inside and snatched the box off the floor just as she heard Riddick turn off the water in the bathroom. Righting the bag, Kyra buried the wooden box at the very bottom. She turned when Riddick opened the door into the guest room.

“Ready for breakfast?” she asked, sounding slightly out of breath. He raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

At the table, Riddick started a conversation Kyra had been waiting for – and dreading.

“How much light can your eyes take?” he asked.

She looked up from her study of the antique wooden table. “Probably not much more than yours,” she replied. Riddick raised an eyebrow.

“Do you have glasses or something?”

She hesitated. “No.” An image of the box tucked under her clothes flashed in her mind. He nodded.

“Who did the job?”

“Some doc in Crematoria.” She paused, sensing his next question. When? “A few months after I got there.”

Riddick nodded again. “He botched it.”

“Yeah.” Kyra looked back at the table. He waited, knowing she would go on. “I was lucky. I can still see.” She shrugged. “I even get a few colors. And the pain from the light isn’t so bad once you get used to it.”

As they talked, Imam poked his head around the doorframe and glanced warily between the two sitting at his table.

“May I speak with Kyra for a moment?” he asked. Looking across at Riddick, she shrugged again and nodded. She rose and followed Imam out into the hall.

“What is it?”

“There is no easy way to say this.” He paused. “I want you to stay away from Ziza,” he said finally. Kyra furrowed her brow, frowning.

“What?”

“She looks up to you. I do not want her getting bad habits; especially from…” He trailed off, looking away.

“What?” She waited for him to finish. “From a convict?” she asked. “Is that what you were going to say?” Instantly, Kyra had Imam pinned against the wall, her hand wrapped around his throat. “It wasn’t my choice to come back here, holy man,” she growled.

“Please do not hurt me,” he choked out. Kyra’s eyes flashed and she loosened her grip. Imam fell to his knees, coughing and dragging air into his lungs.

“I’ll stay away from the kid,” she muttered as she turned on her heel and strode into the kitchen, leaving Imam on the floor gasping.

Riddick had heard Kyra’s conversation with the holy man. He’s listened, quietly sipping his coffee, as she had fought to keep her temper under control. At least she didn’t ghost him. When she walked back through the door, he glanced at her, waiting.

“Done?” she asked, clearing her place and washing her dishes. Returning to the table, she looked down at Riddick and paused. He nodded and handed her his coffee cup. Taking it, she washed it and put it away. When she was finished, she leaned back against the counter. “Can we get outta here?” Kyra asked softly. Riddick nodded and stood.

“We’ll be gone all day – grab your shit if you want it.” Adjusting his goggles over his eyes, he strode back to the guest room. Kyra followed, grabbing her bag as Riddick pulled on a tattered, hooded robe.

The two slipped quietly out the side door of Imam’s house and moved silently through the alleys to New Mecca’s indoor spaceport. Neither spoke until they were strolling past the long lines of ships.

“I gotta see someone,” Riddick said, stopping and glancing around. “Stay here until I get back.” Then he disappeared into the shadows of the docks. Kyra made a rude noise. Yeah, right. Adjusting her bag so that it hung across her body, she turned and headed in the opposite direction.

She kept to the shadows as she moved quietly among the ships. She read the names as she passed and wondered about the stories behind them. Athena, Quicksilver, Royal Blue. Smiling, she began playing with names for her own ship. She was combing her memories of her history lessons for something meaningful when she heard a noise behind her. Instantly, Kyra melted back into the darkness of the docks, sliding a shiv from the sheath on her thigh. She waited. Then she heard it again – a quiet scuff of a boot on metal. Forcing herself to breathe evenly, she listened, gripping her knife so hard her knuckles turned white. Just as she was about to force a confrontation with the stranger, a muscled arm snaked around her shoulders and yanked her back against a familiar chest.

“Shh,” Riddick’s deep voice whispered past her ear. Kyra nodded silently and relaxed against him. They waited for moment, then he began pulling her deeper into the shadows. Finally, he let her go. Slipping her shiv back into its sheath, she waited. Now what?

“I thought I told you to stay.”

“I’m not a dog, Riddick.” He didn’t answer. Turning away from her, he started down a dim alley. Kyra had to jog to catch up to his long, angry strides. Finally, panting and out of breath, she gasped, “Slow down!”

Riddick whirled around and grabbed her shoulders. Slamming her against the nearest ship, he yanked off his goggles and stared at her. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded. The low lights of the cavernous indoor spaceport caused his shined eyes to glimmer like mercury. Kyra couldn’t say anything; when she didn’t answer, he continued. “What if that had been a merc? Or a patrol? Or someone other than me?” He punctuated each question with a little shake. Then the anger clouding his vision cleared a little and Kyra’s expression sunk in. She was terrified. You asshole, he thought. Releasing his grip on her shoulders, he turned away and bowed his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. What the hell was he thinking? She was just a kid. Growling to himself, Riddick started moving down the alley again. He listened to make sure Kyra followed behind him, but didn’t speak.

Finally, the two stopped in front of a small, older looking ship. Cocking her head to once side, Kyra examined it.

“One or two man crew?” she asked, cautiously walking toward the entrance.

“Two converted to one.” She nodded, understanding the shorthand, and peered into the darkness inside the ship. Wait. One-man crew? He couldn’t leave her…

Riddick saw the fear that flitted across Kyra’s face. “It was the most I could afford,” he added, moving around her and into the ship.

The relief that washed over her was almost tangible. He wasn’t going to leave her behind. Following him inside, Kyra allowed herself to look around.

The old ship looked its age, but it had obviously been well cared for. The equipment she could see looked current and the control panel had been redone in a more modern style some time ago. Riddick startled her by sitting in one of the captain’s chairs on the bridge and flipping the controls that closed the door. Lighting up the com panel, he began running updates and codes to check the current condition of the ship. Kyra decided to go exploring while she had a chance. Turning away from the bridge, she went down a short hall that ended in a small galley. She counted three doors along the corridor, two on the right and one on the left. Opening the door on the left first, she found a tiny bathroom with a shower stall and vanity. The other two must lead to the cabins, she thought, pushing open the first door on the right. It was, indeed, a very Spartan cabin. The single bunk was attached to the far wall with storage space built in underneath it. A nightstand stood next to the bed, bolted to the floor; a reading lamp was set on its top. There was also a small cabinet tucked into a corner along the same wall as the entrance. Opening its doors, Kyra found hangers and drawers for clothes. Deciding one cabin was as good as the next; she dropped her bag on the floor near the bed and left the room.

Behind the second door, Kyra had expected to find another cabin exactly like the first. Instead, when she peered inside, she saw a well outfitted exercise room. She spotted a set of weights, along with some mats and things stacked neatly along one wall. Stepping back, she closed the door and walked back to the bridge.

“Um…Riddick?” she asked hesitantly. He was still running checks on the ship’s systems and didn’t answer. “I think we’ve got a problem.”

Turning around in his chair, he glared at her. “What?”

“There’s only one cabin,” she said. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t reply. Feeling like an idiot, Kyra shrugged and sighed. “You’re right. Stupid. Sorry.” Riddick returned to running his checks as she sat in the empty chair next to him. I’ll just sleep on the floor, I guess, she thought.

Riddick was aware or Kyra as she sat next to him, but he kept quiet; he was busy running the last of the immediate scans. If everything checked out all right, he could get the ship off the ground tomorrow morning. Distracted, he didn’t even look at her as he reached behind a small panel.

“Here.” He handed her a battered looking envelope full of cash and as-good-as-cash credit chips. “Go get supplies while I get the main comp ready.”

Kyra jumped at the sound of Riddick’s voice. When she was finally able to get her breath, she asked, “What do we need?” She hadn’t had a chance to investigate everything, so she didn’t know what the ship already had stocked on it.

“Everything.” He tossed the envelope in her lap and dismissed her. Pushing a few more buttons, he entered the codes for the longer scans and watched as a few more lights blinked on.

“How much stock do you want?”

Was she still there? Flipping the switches to open the door, he stood and helped her to her feet. “Enough to last about six months,” he answered, practically pushing her out into the spaceport. “I’ll take care of fuel and water. You get everything else.” Turning away, he sat in front of the com panel and closed the door. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Checking the progress of the latest sequence of scans, Riddick stood and moved toward the rear of the ship. He opened the first door on his right and found the single cabin. When he saw Kyra’s bag lying on the floor, he smiled slightly. Grabbing the leather strap, he picked the carry-all up and tucked it neatly into the cabinet. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and tried to allow his body to relax. Getting the ship had been difficult. The merc skiff hadn’t brought as much as Riddick had hoped, and he had been forced to pay more than he would have liked. But at least they were getting off this planet. He didn’t like it here anymore than the kid did.

Lying back on the bed, Riddick closed his eyes and slowly felt all of his muscles loosen; the tension slipped away for the moment, and he felt sleep stealing over his tired mind. Let the scans run, he thought. I’ll check ‘em in a bit.

~*~*~*~

Kyra juggled the shopping bags and baskets as she tried to key in the code that she hoped opened the ship’s hatch. When she heard the quiet hiss of the door sliding back, she grinned.

“Score,” she whispered.

Inside the ship, she closed the door behind her as she glanced around. The bridge was dark, but with her shined eyes, she could tell that Riddick wasn’t there. “Lights, twenty percent,” she said, turning toward the hallway leading back to the galley. She could see in the dark, but all the bags she was carrying were making things difficult and sometimes, light just helped.

In the galley, Kyra set the heavy bags down on a small table that was bolted to the floor and attached to the wall. Relaxing her arms, she sighed and thanked God that she’d been able to get the rest of the stock delivered to the ship. As she rested, she looked around the room, taking in the rows of neat cabinets and ranks of drawers. Carefully avoiding the two benches attached to the floor on either side of the table, she began unpacking the bags and putting supplies away. Dishes and glasses in one cabinet, canned goods in another; silverware in a drawer, and perishables in the cooling unit. Everything had a place.

She was just barely finished stocking the galley when a sequence of beeps sounded on the bridge. Wondering who it could be, Kyra strode toward the front hatch. She keyed in the open sequence and waited through the hiss of compressed air as the door slid back.

“You Jack?” a gruff voice greeted her. A large man stood on the dock, looking at a clipboard held in his rough hands.

“Who’s asking?” She raised an eyebrow and waited. Vaguely, she could see the outlines of various stacks of boxes behind him.

“I got a delivery here for Jack.” He paused, consulting a paper on his clipboard. “Six months worth of stock.” Kyra nodded and stepped back.

“Take it around back. Cargo hold. I’ll open it and meet you down there.” Disappearing inside, she punched some buttons on the pad next to the door and sealed the hatch. Now how the hell do I get to the cargo hold? she thought, glancing around the bridge. A small grate set into the floor caught her eye. Ah ha, a clue. Flipping the grate up, she dropped it back on its hinges to the deck; the loud discordant clang made her wince. She grasped the top rung of the rickety ladder leading down into the darkness. Quickly, she descended, grinning as the blackness of the hold closed over her.

The cargo hatch was in the rear of the ship; Kyra moved aft with long, confident strides toward it. At the entry keypad, she tried the main opening sequence she’d used to enter the bridge. Another grin lit her face as the hatch lowered with the grinding of long unused machinery. Touching down with a final protesting squeal and a light thump, the ramp was almost instantly crowded with the chaos of hand trucks, carts, boxes, crates, and the porters moving it all.

Soon, Kyra had all the cargo loaded and secured in the hold. There were boxes of soap, towels, tools, and supplies to repair anything on the ship. There were crates of more groceries, dishes, and bed linens. Stacks, and stacks, upon more stacks of stock. But it was in the last stack that Kyra found what she was looking for. She had had enough money left over at the end of her shopping run, so she’d splurged. The three crates of cigarettes were among the last to be loaded into the hold.

When all the porters were gone, she pried the lid off the first of the boxes, gazing longingly at the neat stacks of cartons inside. Kyra opened the one on top and pulled out a single pack – her first in over a year. Idly, she tapped the top of the unopened pack against the heel of her hand, packing the cigarettes inside. Walking halfway down the cargo ramp, she pulled off and discarded the foil and cellophane wrapping. Kyra sat as she gently shook a single cigarette loose. Taking it between her lips, she popped a match on her thumbnail, relishing the bitter smell of burning sulfur. She carefully cupped the small flame and brought it to her. Inhaling slowly, she watched as the end of the cigarette caught. She took her first drag as she shook the match out. Exhaling in a sigh of contentment, Kyra leaned back on her elbows and gazed unseeing out at the deserted docks.