He Didn't Come

Riddick wasn’t sure if he wanted Jack and the kids to accompany him into the station. His killer’s instincts were kicking up a raging fit. Something was wrong in there.

Jack, of course, was as stubborn as she usually was. “Like it or not, I’m going,” she said heatedly.

“But what about the babies? You gonna take them in there, too?”

“I’m not a baby!” Anthony said loudly, but they both ignored him.

“Why not? It’s their home, isn’t it? Anthony, you miss your room? Want to sleep in your own bed tonight?”

Jack’s cajoling voice made Riddick roll his eyes. Anthony’s vigorous nod only exacerbated Riddick’s tension. “Jack… put Nat down for a second. I want to talk to you. Anthony, can you watch your brother for a few minutes?”

Anthony said, “I guess.”

“Okay,” Riddick said, and took Jack’s good hand, leading her to the other side of the bridge. Her shoulder was healing up nicely, but there was still some discomfort. Her face would twist just a little bit when she moved it too much. Riddick wished he could take away the hurt entirely. “Listen to me, Jack. I have a really, really bad feeling about this. I’m asking you, please, stay here. At least until I come back for you.”

“What’s wrong?” she pressed.

Riddick groaned. He didn’t have an answer for her. All he knew was that those subliminal talents that made him such a good death-dealer were giving him hell, and he didn’t want Jack anywhere near the station. His overwhelming need to protect her extended somewhat to the two little boys, but at that moment, his focus narrowed down to a single tunnel: Jack. Jack was paramount. Jack represented everything to him—sanity. Life. Humanity.

Love.

Stop it, jackass! Riddick tried to refocus. “Look, I promise, as soon as I look around, I’ll come for you and the kids, okay? Just, Jack, promise me that you’ll stay here.”

Jack rolled her eyes. “Come on, Riddick. What could possibly be wrong?”

“I don’t know! Okay? You happy? But damn it, Jack, if anything happened to you, I’d fucking lose it, okay? I can’t fucking lose you again!”

Jack was silent. Riddick hoped that his outburst, which took him completely by surprise, would convince her to stay in the ship. He took her silence for consent, and brought his arms around her, drawing her to him. He planted a soft kiss on the top of her head before resting his chin in her tousled hair.

“I can’t lose you again, Jack,” he murmured. “I’d die if I do.” He hadn’t intended to say that second part, and once it was past his lips, it hung in the air between them. Nothing he could do about it now.

Jack put her good hand up to his cheek, and drew his face down to hers. Her lips grew closer and closer to his own, and for a brief, heart stopping moment, Riddick battled away an urge, almost primal in its intensity, to swoop his mouth down on top of hers and claim those beautiful lips as his.

She tilted her head so that those maddening lips were brushed against his ear. “Nothing will happen to me, Riddick. I promise. I love… this… all too much to do something stupid and get myself killed.” Stepping back, she straightened her hair and said simply, “If it means that much to you, I’ll stay. But I’m not happy about it.”

Riddick chuckled. “You’re never happy unless you’re whining about something.” Jack smacked his shoulder, and his laughter was renewed. The gesture was about as effective as a kid playing in the sand, trying to face down a giant tidal wave with a shovel and pail.

Jack frowned, and Riddick bent down quickly. He brushed his lips against her cheek. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised.

“Can I come, Riddick?” Anthony rushed on short legs to him as he opened the ramp.

“No, kiddo. Sorry. I’ll be back soon, though, okay?” Anthony frowned, and Riddick waved cockily. “Close the ramp, Jack.”

He barely had time to see her nod as he stepped down when something smashed into his head from behind. He staggered even as he whirled around, reaching for a shiv.

“Riddick!”

He heard Jack’s cry and growled, “Lock the fucking ramp, Jack.”

The man in front of him was terrified, but not of him. His eyes were wide and rolling in his head. “You’re not one of them,” he gasped, shaking so badly he nearly fell over.

“One of who?” Riddick asked warily, keeping a good five paces away. He studied his assailant with a practiced eye, and promptly noticed two things: he was wounded, and he was a ‘rat.

“The troops,” the man answered, chest heaving. Half of his side was an oozing mass of innards on the wrong side of his skin. “Those fucking Alliance troops.”

“Are they still here?” Riddick asked.

The ‘rat shook his head. Helplessness was blatant in every gesture. “I don’t know. They were here… killed everyone….”

This man was a pirate, and the Alliance troops made him behave like this? Riddick began to rethink his position on the rebellion, but knew that it was pointless. The ‘rats had been decimated. The longer he stood in the bay, the stronger the scent of death permeated his senses. Death… and blood… carnage. Riddick the killer surged upward in glory, but Riddick the man shoved him back down again. He wanted to roll in the death around him. It called to a side of him that he tried so hard not to allow Jack to see. He couldn’t lose his composure here. Not here. Not like this.

The ‘rat dropped to his knees. “I don’t know where they went. Screaming….” The pirates were the scourges of the Consortium. Each one had seen such carnage and villainous acts that almost put Riddick the killer to shame. What could have happened here to make this man freak out like this?

Before Riddick could say another word, the pirate slumped over on the ground. Riddick walked over to him, cautiously keeping an eye out for movement in the main hallway of the station. He checked the man’s vitals. So faint, even he could barely detect them. In a familiar gesture, he snapped the man’s neck and hoisted him onto his shoulder. He was putting the man out of any pain he would be feeling, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to live much longer, anyway. Riddick didn’t want Jack to see a man with a broken neck at the foot of the loading ramp if he decided to let her out.

Carrying the dead man with ridiculous ease, he surveyed the remnant of the station’s interior. There were bodies everywhere. It reminded him of the scene on the ship where he and Jack first met. Pure, wanton violence. He could relate… Riddick the killer swam anxiously under the surface. Riddick the killer wanted out. He wanted to revel in the destruction that lay all around him.

Riddick the man tried desperately to keep a firm hold on himself. If he wanted Jack, he had to stay sane. He couldn’t lose his humanity again. Couldn’t!

He walked down the main hallway. Brand had done an amazing job pulling the ‘rats together. Even through the veil of destruction, there was a sense of order that must have resided there in the past. Lots of residences. A few offices. A huge mess hall. More residences. A weight room.

Riddick dumped the dead ‘rat on the ground, where it landed with a whump on another body, and sank to the floor beside him. Riddick the killer wanted to play.

Riddick started shaking. There was nothing to kill. Nothing left to destroy. He told his killing side to go the fuck away, but it resisted. It wanted the taste of death. Of blood. Riddick put his hands to his head, one hand still clenching one of his many shivs. Finally he stood and thrust one fist out. It connected solidly with the wall in front of him, and three fingers were thrown out of alignment. The pain did two things—it gave Riddick the killer something to focus on, and Riddick the man a chance to reassert some self-control. With a smooth motion, he pushed his fingers back into place and stamped Riddick the killer far, far down into the deep recesses of his half-feral mind.

He had hoped that the side of him that reveled in the pain of others was gone. He had been wrong. He had to keep himself under control. Jack didn’t deserve Riddick the killer. Hell, she didn’t deserve Riddick the man. She deserved so much more than he could give her. Look at the way she took on those two boys. He would never have imagined it in a million years, but she was a mommy-type. There was such a natural inner beauty beneath her volatile persona. He didn’t deserve her.

He had her. Of that, he had no doubt. She was still with him, wasn’t he? He needed to try and be worthy of her, though. That meant that Riddick the killer could never come out to play.

Never.

He finished his exploration of the station, tensed and ready for any stray troops or half-dead men. Nothing. The station was devoid of life.

He didn’t want Jack to take one step outside of the ship. He didn’t want her to see the brutality that littered each passageway. And those boys—this was their home. There was no way he could allow them to see the absolute massacre of people they had known since birth.

What should he do? Okay. Think. Just think. He needed to try and put his ship back together. He didn’t know where Libbie and Brand’s quarters were, and he certainly wasn’t going to allow Anthony to lead him there. That meant that unless he found them on his own, Anthony and Nathaniel would be doing without anything familiar at all.

Well, that was just tough shit. What was he going to do with them, anyway? He knew that Jack wouldn’t hear of putting them into foster care, and for good reason. She was already so attached… and, to be honest, so was he. Anthony was a trip. So… what did that leave?

Keep them. Fucking keep the kids and raise them. “Fuck me,” Riddick said before breaking out into half-desperate laughter. “Irony’s such a fucking bitch.” He was in love, and he all of a sudden had to be a fucking father-figure, of all things. “Oh, fuck me.”