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The Things That Happen

By: zillypill
folder M through R › Pitch Black
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 8
Views: 4,156
Reviews: 17
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Pitch Black, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
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Flying

Author's Note: Here is the next chapter for your reading pleasure. Not such a long wait this time. I apologize in advance for any errors you may find. Read and review (please!) but, as always, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I sometimes like to pretend I do...

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Nothing but black and a sprinkling of stars was visible out the front window. Kyra had been staring at the same view since she and Riddick had cleared Helion Prime’s atmosphere. Her stomach was growling, and she could feel an ache settling in her knees and back, but she couldn’t move.

“I used to do that.” Riddick’s low rumble made her jump, then she winced as the pain in her joints flared.

“Do what?” she asked, glancing at him. “Stare at the stars?”

“Yeah.” He slid into the captain’s chair next to Kyra, causing it to creak in protest. Kyra smiled when she saw his eyes were gazing out the front window with rapt attention. Turning her focus back to the stars, she sighed. Her stomach growled again, startling her. “Hungry?” Riddick didn’t look at her when he spoke.

“I guess,” Kyra replied, looking down at herself. “I didn’t really notice.” Time in the slam’ll do that to ya, she added silently. Her stomach growled again and she started to get up.

“Harness,” Riddick said. Kyra stopped moving an instant before the harness would’ve snapped her back into the seat. Unfastening the latch, she stood and stretched, arching her back and cracking her knuckles. Riddick watched her from under heavy lids. He was struck again by how sexy she had become. He just couldn’t shake the image of her long legs wrapping themselves around his waist as he…

“You want anything, while I’m up?” Kyra’s voice broke into his lurid imaginings. Blinking, Riddick brought himself back to the real world.

“No. Thanks,” he added after a moment. He listened as Kyra moved almost silently to the galley. When he was sure she was occupied, Riddick stood and almost ran to the small bathroom. Turning the water on full hot, he stripped off his clothes and stepped under the spray. The water pounded down on his shoulders, scalding his skin. Growling, he turned his face up to the stinging drops.

This wasn’t helping. Riddick’s mind was going wild, picturing the things he would like to do to Kyra under the thundering spray. Reaching out blindly, he turned the temperature to full cold, shivering as the water instantly went from scalding to freezing. He was breathing hard, fighting his arousal with everything he had. He couldn’t let Krya see this side of him; he had to protect her.

A knock brought Riddick’s head up. Kyra called something through the door, but her voice was too muffled for him to understand. He stiffened as he heard the door open. “What is it?” he gritted out; he refused to look at her.

“I asked if you were sure you didn’t want anything to eat. I made too much food and was looking to share.” She sounded funny – like she was having a hard time catching her breath.

“Sure. Leave it out.” He had to get her out of there; otherwise all those fantasies would quickly become realities.

Kyra nodded, but stayed where she was. She could see the outline of Riddick’s muscular body through the shower curtain, and she felt her heartbeat accelerate as her imagination filled in what her eye couldn’t see. She had an image of water sluicing over the hard muscles of his shoulders and chest, down his stomach to…

Blushing, Kyra forced her mind away from the picture of a wet, naked Riddick. Taking a deep breath, she turned on her heel and stepped out into the hall. “Okay,” she said to herself. “Okay.”

Once Kyra was gone and the door shut behind her, Riddick turned off the shower and waited. Bracing his hands on the wall in front of him, he hung his head and tried to relax. What was it about the kid that made him so…so…whatever the fuck he was feeling? Stepping out of the shower, Riddick wrapped a towel around his hips and picked up the pile of his clothes from the floor. He carefully opened the door, glancing from right to left to make sure that Kyra wasn’t in sight. All clear. Quickly, he crossed the hall and opened the door to the cabin. He was instantly assaulted by the scent of apples.

“My beautiful atom bomb,” Kyra sang softly, “it never felt so right. So find me marching on, you are my afterlife.” Kyra’s voice was clear and true, hitting each note perfectly. Riddick paused on the threshold, with his clothes spilling out of his arms and one hand still curled around the doorknob. Enthralled, he leaned against the doorframe, forgetting his lack of attire. “My beautiful hand grenade, you know you feel so good tonight.” She was picking up the cabin. Clothes had been produced and put in the small cabinet attached to the wall. She had even found fresh sheets somewhere and made the cabin’s single bed.

“I am not afraid…” Kyra’s voice trailed off as she looked up and saw Riddick – or more pointedly, the towel barely clinging to Riddick’s hips. “Sorry,” she muttered, tearing her eyes away from the perfectly chiseled body in front of her. Picking up the pile of dirty sheets and her clothes, she tried to sneak past him without making eye contact.

“That was good,” he said, stepping into the room and out of her way.

“What?” She paused in the doorway.

“You sound good. I like it.”

Kyra blushed. “Thank you.” Riddick smiled at her and watched as she turned out into the hall. Closing the door behind her, and trying not to think about how great her ass had looked in those pants, he dumped his dirty clothes on the bed and opened the cabinet in search of something to wear.

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Kyra had found a small washer and dryer in a closet tucked in the back corner of the exercise room. Pouring in some laundry soap, she dropped the sheets and clothes into the washer and closed the top. Then, she just leaned against the machine and propped her chin on her fist. Things between her and Riddick were going to get very interesting. She couldn’t avoid the fact that she was attracted to him – when had that happened?
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were living in close quarters, and she just had to learn to deal with…well, with whatever. Sighing, Kyra pushed herself up. She’d start the wash when she had Riddick’s clothes – they’d use less water that way. She walked out of the exercise room and down the hall to the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, but she opened the cooling unit anyway, looking idly at the food inside.

“Hungry still?” Riddick’s voice made Kyra jump. She slammed the cooling unit door and whirled around.

“No.”

“Hot?” he tried again.

“No.” He was in the doorway, just leaning against the frame. It should be a crime for someone to look so good, she thought. He was shirtless, with his goggles dangling out of the back pocket of his pants. And he was just watching her. Self-consciously, Kyra stuck her thumbs in her hip pockets and looked at her bare feet.

Riddick moved to sit at the kitchen’s small booth. Squeezing his giant frame onto the narrow bench, he saw the pot sitting on the table in front of him. Leftovers. She’d said something about leftovers. Taking a closer look, he saw that the pot held a sort of stew. He heard Kyra moving around, opening cabinets and drawers. When she set a bowl and spoon down in front of him, Riddick looked up.

“Thanks, kid,” he said. When she started to move away, he grabbed her wrist. “Sit with me.” Kyra raised an eyebrow, but sat. She settled herself on the bench facing him and waited – a trick she had learned from him.

Riddick waited, too. Scooping some of the stew into his bowl, he began to eat. It was pretty good; better than the crap that passed for food at the slam. He nodded approvingly after swallowing the first spoonful. Then for a while, there was no sound but the scrape of Riddick’s spoon in the bowl.

Finally, Kyra couldn’t take it anymore. Riddick was obviously better at the waiting game. That would change, but for now, she would let him win. “What now?” she asked. I’m always asking, “What now”.

Licking the last bit of stew off his spoon, he said, “We wait. Space is the safest place for us for now.” Leaning back, he grinned a bit and laced his fingers behind his head.

“Are we going somewhere? Or just floating?”

“A little planet I know about. Hidden.” Kyra ran a hand over her face and through her hair. Riddick noticed she did that whenever she was frustrated with something. He waited for her to snap some comment at him, but instead she stood. Her hair fell down her back – she’d removed the slender dagger holding it in place hours ago – and now she twisted it up, behind her head. Pulling that same slim blade out of her back pocket, she secured her hair in a messy knot of sorts and strode out of the kitchen. Riddick didn’t follow her – he knew where she was going.

Riddick waited until he heard the door to the exercise room slam shut. Careful, kid – your anger’s showing. Standing, he took the pot and his bowl to the sink and washed them. He put everything away, and just stood there for a moment, thinking. Kyra was pissed – working out her frustrations in the gym instead of him. Maybe he should just leave her alone. Shrugging, Riddick strode silently out of the kitchen and down the corridor to the exercise room. He eased the door open and watched as Kyra moved through a few practice patterns with her shivs. There were already a couple embedded in the padding of the walls and floor. Riddick was impressed – he hadn’t heard anything.

He stood watching her for a few moments, then he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. Kyra dropped immediately into a ready stance, even before she turned to face him. Good, kid.

“Riddick.”

“You’ve gotten better,” he stated.

“Kinda had to,” she replied, coming out of her crouch. “What do you want now?” He didn’t answer. Instead, Kyra felt him coming towards her, prowling around her, then moving away.

“Let’s play a game.” His growl sent shivers through her body.

“Go fish?” she asked

“No.” His low purr was right in her left ear.

“Strip poker?” she tried again.

This time, there was a low chuckle before his whisper caressed the back of her neck. “No.”

Finally, Kyra fell for the bait; if he wanted to play, let him play. “What game?”

“How about ‘who’s the better killer’?” The light caress of one of Riddick’s blades at her throat had her attention. Swallowing hard, she nodded.

“Okay.” Then the blade was gone, and so was Riddick. Turning quickly, Kyra saw him moving around her – trying to disorient her. Fuck that, she thought, standing perfectly still. Let him run in circles. I’ll wait.

Riddick was impressed. The kid wasn’t trying to follow his every move. She must’ve actually learned something, being in the slam. Then he cringed, not wanting to think about how she’d learned those things. Putting it out of his mind, he stepped toward Kyra, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her to him. Instantly, she turned in his grasp and had a shiv at his throat. When she grinned, he caught the glint of the tiny blade she kept in her mouth. Fast. Riddick smirked right back. This was going to be fun.

Kyra could feel Riddick’s hand splayed over the small of her back, the warmth of his fingers sending shivers down her spine. As her free hand reached for another blade, she felt his muscles twitch, and she was suddenly pressed flush against his chest. The proximity did funny things to her body and Kyra felt herself starting to panic. She groped desperately at her thigh, looking for that knife, but her fingers just couldn’t find it.

“Relax.” She felt Riddick’s breath whisper past her ear, fluttering a few escaped curls against her temple. “You’re panicking.” The tip of a shiv trailed lightly down her arm. Her eyes shot open wide and she felt real fear trying to steal over her. Breathing slowly, she forced everything away.

Riddick felt Kyra start to relax in his hold. “Good,” he whispered, keeping his lips right next to her ear. God, he could almost taste her – he was close enough to just touch his tongue to…

Now you’re getting distracted. Riddick flexed his fingers and began to inch them up Kyra’s back, under her shirt. Suddenly, he froze. He could feel the unmistakable texture of heavy scarring puckering her smooth skin. Jerking his head up, he stared down at her through the dark. “What’s this?” he growled.

Kyra looked up at him, puzzled. The tiny blade was hidden back in her mouth and the shiv at his throat was drooping. “What?”

Riddick traced a finger over the scars crisscrossing her back. Placing his hand between her shoulder blades, he felt the lines snaking up to the base of her neck. “This.” Her eyes widened as she realized what he was touching. Shoving herself away from him, she turned her back. “What is it, Kyra?” Riddick asked, but he knew. He wanted to shout, he wanted to hurt someone; he wanted revenge for what those fucks had done to her. Kyra was still silent. She wouldn’t even look at him. Finally Riddick couldn’t take it any more. He threw his shiv across the room and watched Kyra flinch as it landed in the wall next to her head. “What did they do to you?” he shouted. That got her attention.

“I told you,” she shot back at him. Her silvered eyes flashed as she whirled around to face him. “They tried to kill me. Did you think I was kidding?” Her hand was at her side, clenching around her shiv; her knuckles were turning white with the strain. “I’ve got scars everywhere, Riddick.” She paused and her eyes seemed to cloud over a bit. “Everywhere.”

Riddick’s hands fisted at his sides. At that moment, he wanted to kill every single man that had ever touched her. Every single one. Instead, he took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He could feel the anger and pain radiating off Kyra, and it hurt to know he’d caused some of it.

“I waited for you, and the longer I waited, the more they hurt me,” she whispered. She didn’t want to tell these stories. She didn’t want to remember what the guards had done to her, or what the mercs had done, or what the convicts had done; she didn’t want to remember any of it. “You want to see all of it?” she asked, her voice harsh and taunting. “You want to see the price I paid for my fuck-up? For believing in something?” Turning her back to him, Kyra raised her shirt so Riddick could see the scars. She waited for him to say something; to tell her to stop, to comfort her. He stood behind her, silent. Dropping her shirt, she turned toward him again. “Why does it matter to you?” she asked, not really expecting an answer.

“Because no one touches what’s mine.” It was the first thing he’d said since she’d turned to face him

“And I’m yours?” Kyra laughed, the sound harsh in her ears. “You left me, alone, and you tell me that I’m yours?” He didn’t answer. “Fuck you, Riddick,” she growled, finally. She threw her shiv across the room and walked out the door without even bothering to see where it stuck.

Kyra swung herself around the small section of wall separating the exercise room and the cabin. Closing the door behind her, she sank to the floor and let her head fall back against the wall. She stared at the ceiling and tried to force the lump out of her throat. She could hear Riddick breathing, just outside the door – or maybe she was just imagining it. It didn’t matter anyway. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she rested her arms on her knees and dropped her forehead to the wiry muscles of her forearms. With her face hidden in the hollow of her body, she let the tears escape. She felt them streaking hotly down her cheeks and swore at her own weakness.

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Riddick braced his hands on the cabin door, listening to Kyra breathing in the other side. He knew she was crying; he could smell the tears. More than anything, he wanted to break down the door and take her in his arms. But who the hell was he trying to kid? He didn’t know how to comfort anyone. Pushing himself away from the door, he sighed. Quietly, he made his way up to the bridge and dropped into the captain’s chair. The stars visible out the front window held no comfort tonight – especially without Kyra sitting here to enjoy them too. Shifting, Riddick tried to make himself comfortable. When that didn’t seem to work, he rose and crept back to the exercise room. He closed the door and pulled his goggles out of his pocket. Setting them on the floor, he collected the shivs from around the room and laid them next to the goggles. With all the obstacles out of his way, he was ready. The big punching bag in the far corner would work nicely. Crossing to it, Riddick began hitting it so hard it bounced off the wall and rattled its securing chains. It provided some small measure of comfort; it would do for now.
Riddick worked the bag until his knuckles were raw and bleeding. Listening to his own labored breathing, he flexed his aching hands and looked around him. He didn’t know how long he had been working; only that he was exhausted. Moving over to where he’d left his goggles, Riddick stumbled slightly. He steadied himself, grabbed his goggles, and stepped out into the hall. He was passing the door to the cabin when he heard a soft cry from inside. It was Kyra.

Without thinking, Riddick reached out and grasped the doorknob. He paused, not sure…then he heard Kyra again.

“Riddick!”

The door was open in a flash, and he was bending to gather her sobbing form into his strong arms. “It’s okay, kid. I got ya.” Burying his face in her hair and rocking her gently back and forth, he whispered whatever words of comfort he could come up with. Kyra wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and pressed her face into his shoulder.

“Make them go away,” she whispered. Riddick could feel her tears soaking his skin and he held her tighter. “Save me, Riddick. I can’t do this alone.”

“I got ya, Kyra,” he muttered, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m here.” Slowly, he felt her body begin to relax. Standing up, he cradled her gently against his chest and carried her to the bunk. He laid her down and moved to the foot of the bed to pull off her boots; they landed on the metal deck with two hollow thumps. Still whispering nonsense words, Riddick pulled the blankets out from under Kyra and tucked her in. She was already sleeping again.

Carefully, Riddick brushed an errant curl back from Kyra’s forehead and she sighed. Pressing a light kiss to her left temple, he whispered in her ear, “I’ll save you.” Never doubt it, he added silently. Finally, he stood and moved away from the bunk. He paused at the door, glancing once more at Kyra’s sleeping form, then strode out to the bridge. Dropping into the captain’s chair, he settled in for a long night.
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