In Consequence

FIVE


Jack cursed as she tried to turn on the shower. Her hands were raw from jamming her fingers against the walls and burning them in the galley. Her poor bare feet weren’t much better off. She had stubbed each toe numerous times, and on one occasion had even ripped a left toenail halfway off.

That one had hurt. It had been three days since Riddick had last spoken to her, or since she had seen any direct evidence of his existence at all. When she ripped off her toenail, she had yelled bloody murder. She was sure that Riddick would come to see what the problem was, but there had been nothing. She found what felt like clean bandages on the counter not even ten minutes later. Instead of making her feel better, it only reinforced how unpredictable Riddick was. He had been less than five feet from her and she never had a clue.

The water finally on and warm, she stepped inside the stall and held onto the door. It wouldn’t do to fall and seriously hurt herself, after all. She found the soap and worked it into a thick lather in her hands. The warmth of the water felt so good on her overwrought body. Hell, even her skin felt tense. Three days of trying to survive in the absolute darkness had been awful.

If there was nothing actively hindering her, there was nothing helping her, either. The whole ship felt alien and indifferent to Jack. She was starting to get lonelier than she thought possible. It was one thing to be held against her will, but another entirely to be so alone.

She knew why Riddick was doing this to her. He wanted to break her. He wanted to have absolute control over her. After her illness, he proved that he would help her if she really needed it. She didn’t understand him, not by a long shot, but the fact that he had nursed her back to health, as much as a sociopath was able to nurse anyone, at any rate, proved that she meant something to him. He hadn’t kidnapped her just to torture her.

Well, that was all well and good. It didn’t exactly endear him to her, but she was less afraid of him than she had been. If he would take care of her when she needed it, then maybe….

Maybe what? She didn’t know. But Jack found herself softening, ever so slightly, toward Big Evil.

~*~

Riddick watched her as she fumbled for a towel after her shower. Damn, he could never get enough of drinking in her body. His groin twitched when he imagined all the things he could do to her—when she was ready. Not before.

He realized how close he had come to truly damaging her only after her illness came and went. Her trust was crucial to him, and he intended to have from her freely. If he had to play a few psychological mindfucks on her first, so be it. He would do whatever it took. He had all the patience in the world.

Later that night, he took no pains to avoid her as she opened his bedroom door and fairly collapsed onto her pallet. Tired, Jackie-girl? he thought with an evil snicker from the bed. He could only imagine what the past three days had been like for her. True to his plan, he had stayed completely out of her way. When she hurt herself, like that idiotic accident when she ripped up her toenail, he made sure to leave the necessary first-aid where she would find it. He took care of her; he just never interacted with her.

He supposed that she must be getting pretty lonely by this point. He was used to being alone. So accustomed to it, in fact, that it took having another presence onboard more adjustment than he guessed that his girl had to go through to get used to being so alone in the first place.

How much longer before she would be willing to accept his collar? How much isolation could she take before she cracked?

She was soon asleep. Poor kid. She must have been exhausted. Oh, well. Too fucking bad.

Riddick rose and couched over her resting body. Carefully and silently, he clipped the leash that she had discarded the first night of her isolation into place. His girl didn’t even stir.

He picked her up and set her gently on his bed before lying down next to her. He stroked her face almost hesitantly. Tenderness was unheard of for him, and he was in deeply unfamiliar territory. Her features were pinched with stress and worry—stress that he had caused.

Riddick growled under his breath as he cupped an arm around her slender body. She’d get over it. She’d get over a lot of things, once he was through with her.

“Lights to five percent,” he murmured to the computer. It obliged immediately.

Jack stirred beneath him. He kept his eyes trained on hers as they flickered before opening slowly. Her scent abruptly changed. There was still the faintest trace of fear, but he supposed that her fear would never truly fade. In a way, he was glad. It was almost impossible for him to discern between respect and fear, anyway. Why should it be any different for her?

“Riddick,” Jack breathed.

“Jackie,” he acknowledged.

Suddenly, inexplicably, she began to cry. She curled up in a little ball and buried her face into the bedspread. Riddick was puzzled, though he took pains not to show it. What was there to cry about?

~*~

When Jack awoke to see her face reflected in Riddick’s quicksilver gaze, it gave her a small start of fear. She doubted that she’d ever be around him and feel completely at ease, anyway. It didn’t matter. Her relief at being with someone again, anyone, instead of the indescribable silence and loneliness of the past few days, was suddenly overwhelming. When he said her name, it tipped her over the edge. She wasn’t sure if she was glad to be with him again or not, but the feeling of existence that accompanied the sound of her name was beyond words.

She started to cry, and for once, she didn’t care if she seemed weak or strong or what. The anxiety of being so fully ignored, of being trapped in the never-ending darkness, caught up with her. Rolling over, she couldn’t help but tense up when Riddick put a hand on her back.

What the… was he rubbing her back?

No. Though clumsy in a way, Riddick was running a massive hand over and around her shoulder blades, but soon moved to her arms and back to her torso. He wasn't giving her a backrub. He was just... feeling her up, if not in a sexual way. Feeling his property, learning every contour, every nuance. Riddick surely wasn't capable of offering comfort. Jack kept crying. She was so grateful to be acknowledged that she didn’t know what to say.

The instant her tears began to dry, Riddick broke contact with her body and sat up, holding the leash that was now reattached to her collar. Jack rolled onto her back and watched him curiously. It did not escape her that she was in a compromising position with this man. He was hovering over her prone body, and he had proved his strength to her several times over in the past week. She was helpless if he should choose to try anything.

Strangely, the realization of that fact didn’t herald an onslaught of panic like it had been doing in the past several days. A weight of heavy acceptance settled into her breast as she looked up at Riddick. There was nothing she could do to save herself. He had all the power. While she knew this beforehand, it was only then that all of the repercussions hit home for her.

He wouldn’t hurt her. He’d had every opportunity to abuse or harm her, and he didn’t take advantage of a single one. What did that mean?

“Why have you been ignoring me?” she asked softly, never breaking eye contact. She didn’t know what she wanted his answer to be.

He looked at her, and she could feel the force of his will as he did so. Riddick was truly the strongest person she had ever met. It was no wonder she had idolized him as a little girl. He had seemed so untouchable. It seemed like nothing could ever hurt him.

“Are you ready to stop fighting me, little one?” he replied. It was so like Riddick, to answer a question with a question. Jack didn’t allow her irritation to take root.

“What do you mean?” she asked instead.

“What are you?”

It was the same question he had asked her in the galley, on her first day of isolation. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, what am I?”

“What are you, girl?” His voice was still a steady monotone. Jack could feel her temper starting to heat up.

“Damn it, Riddick, what do you want from me?” she snapped. “I’m just me! Just Jack, okay? What do you want?”

Riddick touched her face lightly. The sensitivity of his fingers stilled her anger long enough for him to reply, “When you’re ready, you’ll know. Lights off.”

The dim light was suddenly gone, leaving Jack trembling. “No, Riddick. Don’t do this, please. Turn the lights back on. I can’t stand much more of this. Riddick!”

His only response was to get off of the bed. She could feel the mattress move as he rose with a wild silence, and she clutched for him, fighting panic. Her hooked fingers met nothing but cool air, and she was alone again.