The Things That Happen

Author's note: Sorry this is such a short chapter. It just seemed to be...well, short, when I wrote it. The next one should be a bit longer. I hope. As always, I apologize for any errors that may be found, and any inconsistancies as well. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own them...wish I did, but I don't.

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The sound of a door opening caught Riddick’s attention. By the clocks on the ship, it was morning, but there was still nothing but blackness out the front windows. Standing and stretching, Riddick glanced down the corridor to see Kyra moving around in the kitchen. He heard her filling a pot with water and put it on the stove plate. Leaning against the com panel, he watched her; he liked watching her.

The two had called an unofficial sort of truce after Riddick had found the scars on Kyra’s back. Since then, they had slipped into a sort of routine. They ate and slept. They talked when they had to, never prying too deep into each other’s secrets. They worked out – Kyra was getting stronger every day. Riddick grinned at that thought; the kid’s a fast learner.

Cracking his neck, Riddick pushed himself away from the com panel and moved silently to the galley. He’d just reached the doorway when Kyra spoke.

“Couldn’t sleep again?” she asked. Riddick didn’t answer as he moved into the room. She just shrugged; she hadn’t really expected a reply. Opening a cabinet, she reached for a small canister of tea. Her fingers met only air. Growling, she peered at the various jars and bottles in the cabinet and swore. She hated not being able to read in the dark. “Lights, twenty percent,” she said. Kyra quickly scanned the labels, pulling out a larger jar near the back of the cabinet. Turning to set it on the counter next to the heating plate, she slammed into Riddick.

She caught her balance instantly, bracing one hand on the counter. Clearing her throat, she looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” she asked.

Riddick didn’t answer; he had nothing to say. He’d taken advantage of Kyra’s distraction and moved close enough to breathe in her scent. But he wouldn’t admit that. Instead, he shrugged.

“A ‘sorry’ would be nice,” she commented as she reached behind him to set down the jar of tea. She looked up, waiting for Riddick to move out of her way. Their eyes locked, instantly heating the air around them.

The whistling kettle made Kyra start, pulling her eyes away from Riddick’s. The moment was over. Moving away, Riddick sat at the table and watched as Kyra made the tea. He’d been watching her a lot more lately. Her movements were full of carefully controlled power, graceful, sexy. Shaking his head, he pulled his goggles out of his pocket and settled them over his eyes. The kid had forgotten to turn the lights off, and even though it was low light, prolonged exposure still hurt.

Kyra could feel Riddick watching her as she poured tea and finished fixing a light breakfast. Fighting the urge to shiver at the strange sensation, she turned, mug in hand, to see his silvered eyes hidden behind the tinted goggles. She blushed and set the tea on the table. “Lights off,” she said quickly.

“It’s okay.” The goggles were still down but Kyra could tell he was still watching her.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“The lights. They were fine.”

“Oh,” she muttered, looking down at her bare feet. How could she explain? She hadn’t turned them off for Riddick… Ever since she had gotten her shine, Kyra had lived in a sort of lighted dark. She hated the fact that she still depended on any lights –even low lights – for certain things. Sighing, she sat down across from Riddick and began working on her breakfast.

Riddick watched Kyra eat as he sipped his tea. He could still feel the embarrassment radiating off her. Letting his mind wander, he thought about all the books she had hidden in her bag; he’d never seen her touch any of them. Now he understood – she needed light to read; needing light was a weakness to her. Grinning slightly, he drained the last of the tea from his cup. Kid, you’re anything but weak. Standing, Riddick nodded to Kyra and strode out of the galley and down the hall to the bathroom.

Riddick locked the door behind him; after his last encounter with Kyra while he was in the shower, he wasn’t taking any chances. He turned the water on, letting it warm up as he stripped off his clothes. Stepping under the hot spray, he groaned quietly and let the heat and pounding water work some of the tension out of his neck and shoulders. Sleeping in the pilot’s chair was starting to take its toll. Out in the hall, he heard Kyra moving around. He wondered idly what she was doing as he lathered his hands in soap and began to wash.

Kyra was pacing. From the kitchen, up the hall to the bridge, then down the hall, back again. She was nervous. Cracking her knuckles, she suddenly detoured into the exercise room and commanded the lights on to almost full. Pain at the brightness spiked through her head, but that was what she wanted. It’ll take my mind off Riddick, she thought. Grinding her teeth against the stinging in her eyes, she moved to the small com panel and turned on the sound system, not caring what was loaded in the loop. Something heavy and full of bass pounded out of the speakers. Kyra ignored the headache brewing between her temples and moved to the punching bag. She hit it, hard, following the beat of the music.

Riddick had stepped out of the shower and heard the bass pouring out of the speakers. Kyra had forgotten to flip the closed circuit switch in the exercise room, so the music was pounding out of every speaker on the ship. Wrapping a towel around his waist he crossed the hall and stopped. The lights were on almost full. Pulling on his goggles, Riddick peered into the room and saw Kyra beating the shit out of the punching bag – kicks, hits, every move full of an unconscious grace…and in perfect time with the music. She was absorbed in what she was doing, completely oblivious to him. Time to play. Grinning slightly, Riddick moved forward, until he was right behind her.

“You know, doing that in bare feet could cause you some serious damage,” he whispered in her ear. Kyra froze, her right arm drawn back for another hit. Riddick saw that she wasn’t wearing goggles.

“Lights off,” she said instantly. Blinking rapidly she relaxed a bit. Her head felt like it was going to explode. She was just reaching up to rub her temples when a gentle touch stopped her.

“You shouldn’t have the lights on like that without your goggles,” Riddick growled. He wasn’t playing anymore. What the fuck did she think she was doing? Holding her chin gently in his palm, he tilted her face up so he could see her eyes. They were wide, looking him up and down, taking in the towel that sat dangerously low on his hips. She looked so…so…Riddick couldn’t find the words to describe her. Unconsciously, he leaned toward her until their lips were just a breath apart. I could just lean in and…

Suddenly, he pulled Kyra to him, wrapping one arm tightly around her to pin her to his body. He kissed her, hard, his tongue tracing the full curve of her lower lip. Gently cupping the back of her head, he groaned as she opened her mouth for him. Their tongues dueled as Riddick’s fingers twined themselves into Kyra’s hair.

This wasn’t happening. Kyra tried to force her body under control, but Riddick’s lips left hers, tracing a path to her jaw, and she was lost. “This so isn’t happening,” she whispered, echoing her thoughts. Letting out a small gasp when his teeth grazed her earlobe, Kyra ran her hands up Riddick’s broad back, relishing the feeling of his skin under her fingertips.

“Yeah, it’s happening.” The low, animal growl sent shivers to every part of her body. Liquid heat began to pool in the pit of her stomach. When she glanced down at him, she saw he’d pulled his goggles off, and was watching her intently. When she felt him grab her hips, lifting her against him, she wrapped her legs around his lean waist. God, this felt good. Riddick felt good.

Kyra’s head fell back as she completely lost herself to Riddick’s assault. He trailed his tongue down the sleek column of her throat and grinned as he felt her short nails digging into his shoulders. Tasting her collarbone, he sidestepped so he could brace her back against one of the exercise room’s padded walls. Riddick let his hands roam up Kyra’s back, tracing gently over her scars. He forced himself to remain calm as he turned his attention to the expanse of skin shown by the low cut of her shirt. Letting his tongue dip into the shadowed valley between her breasts, he sighed. She tasted even better than she smelled. Then he felt Kyra’s hands on either side of his face. She dragged him back up for another kiss, even as one of his hands reached around to cup her breast in his callused palm.

Kyra stiffened. She was gone, but not so far gone she didn’t notice that. “Wait,” she gasped out, trying to catch her breath. “Riddick, wait.” He didn’t answer; his mouth seemed occupied with trailing kisses along her jaw. “Riddick!” Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she pushed. He looked up, startled.

“What?” His voice was little more than a rumble deep in his chest. His mind was filled with visions of taking Kyra, right here on the floor; he couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying.

“What are we doing?” she asked, softly. Carefully, she let her legs drop from his waist and tried to stand on her watery knees. Riddick’s palm was still cupping her breast. Raising an eyebrow, she cleared her throat and looked down pointedly. His hand dropped to his side instantly. Kyra moved away, leaving him with nothing but the smell of apples and a slight – well, more than slight – problem barely concealed by his towel. Bracing his hands on the wall in front of him, Riddick sighed. It was going to be another long night.

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Kyra finally relaxed enough to fall asleep, only to wake in the middle of a nightmare. She was curled in one corner of the bed, a shiv in each hand, and she could feel the dampness of tears on her cheeks. Trying to breathe deeply, she forced herself to calm down; to block out the memories of T2; to chase away the nightmare on her own.

Kyra didn’t open her eyes for almost a full minute; sure she would see nothing but blackness, just like on that God forsaken planet. When she was finally able to look around the room, she felt something in her chest loosen, allowing her to breathe. No monsters. Sighing, she carefully stretched her legs out in front of her. Her muscles had been tense and started to cramp. Gritting her teeth, she worked through the pain, pushing herself off the bed and tucking the shivs safely away under her pillow. Kyra began to slowly pace the room. Her muscles finally relaxed and she started trembling. She wanted to call out for Riddick. She wanted him to tell her it was just a stupid dream – like he had on the skiff…after…

Shaking her head, she started pacing figure eights, instead of just a straight line. She was just finishing her third or fourth figure when she looked up. Riddick was standing in the doorway, watching her. “I didn’t want to wake you,” she said, lamely.

“I wasn’t asleep,” he replied. Riddick had heard Kyra tossing and turning, fighting dream battles. He’d smelled the fear radiating off her without even opening the door. He’d stood, waiting for her to call out so he could comfort her. When she hadn’t, he listened, out in the hall, until she had quieted down.

“Still,” she muttered. Shrugging, she turned and slipped back under the tangled covers of the bunk. When she glanced back at him, Riddick could see hints of shadows under her eyes.

“You haven’t been sleeping well.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m fine,” Kyra assured him.

“We’ll be putting down soon. We’ll see what we can do there.” Kyra didn’t even bother asking where, and Riddick wasn’t surprised. Turning on his heel, he strode out of the cabin, closing the door quietly behind him.

When Kyra was sure he was gone, she crept out of bed and over to the pile of her clothes in a corner, grabbing an ashtray off the night table on her way. Pulling a pack of cigarettes from a pants pocket, she shook one out and lit it. Taking a drag, she sighed. This was why she’d started smoking – it might kill her in the end, but it calmed her nerves like nothing else. Leaning back against the wall, Kyra slid to the floor and let her head drop forward. She propped her arms on her knees, keeping the lit cigarette well away from her pant leg.

It was some time before Kyra brought her head up. The cigarette had almost burnt out, so she crushed the butt in the ashtray and pushed herself to her feet. Stretching lazily, she crawled back into bed, barely able to keep her eyes open. Hopefully, the nightmares would stay away this time.