Unlikely Allies
folder
M through R › Pitch Black
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
Views:
3,509
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Pitch Black
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
Views:
3,509
Reviews:
2
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.
Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Nadia had awakened the next morning by Riddick's restless soul. He was tossing and turning on the bed and mumbling incessantly. As she came closer she could see little beads of sweat covered his face and his black tank top was soaked. He rolled from side to side clenching his fists. She didn't know if she should touch him.
"Shh." She said softly. "It's okay. You're with me now; everything is just fine. She took a hand towel from the drawer and wiped his face.
"Don't worry; I am going to take good care of you." She said and he stopped.
No more tossing. No more turning. He was comforted.
Nadia stayed there beside him a little while longer. Then she checked his blood soaked dressing. It was time for a change. She left the safe room and went up into the house. She brought her first aid kit and fresh dressing for the bed. She'd had some men's clothing from one of the missions and she hoped he could fit them.
To properly treat his wounds, she would have to cut away his clothing. Back in the safe room, she pulled over her chair and a metal table. From her first aid kit, she pulled some gauze, a, syringe, suturing needle, suture and a small vial of morphine. She pulled the covers back softly.
Taking deep breaths, she sat down in the chair and began to cut up the center of his shirt and sheet. She reached the seam and cut the straps. She pulled back the sheet wondering where the wound was actually. She took a deep breath as she separated the halves of his shirt and exhaled slowly when she revealed the body of a Greek God. Nadia cringed because she had never seen anything so perfect. His skin was even colored and glistened in the light. She lost track of what she was supposed to be doing, yet again, admiring him. His chest was broad and defined. She could barely take her eyes off him. Thinking to herself, Now we're both sweating.
She finally saw the wound; it was a nasty gash low on his left side. It looked painful and it was still bleeding sparingly. She put on a pair of latex gloves. She filled the syringe with morphine and cleaned the area around the gash with iodine. Pinching the left side of his stomach, she wiped it with alcohol and injected the morphine into him. He flinched. She waited a few minutes. Taking her time, she threaded the needle, waiting for the morphine to kick in.
She began closing his gash. She tried to steady her hand. She was shaking because she’d never had done this to anyone besides herself. Still taking deep breaths, she continued. She finished up with a cross-stitch to hold the other in place. To finish, Nadia wiped around the area with more iodine. She removed her gloves, sat back for a second, took a deep breath and then proceeded to cover the stitches with clean gauze. She wanted to be sure it was kept clean until she could get him out of the garage and into the house, where it was more sanitary.
As Nadia stood up, she began to thirst for this tall drink of water, whose glass had
been broken. She was oh so happy to seal it back up again. Covering him with a
clean blanket, Nadia thought, Oh My God, he looks like a panther that is relieved of a
searing agony that once tainted his very aching soul.
She gathered her things and took them back upstairs. Nadia wanted a shower badly but she couldn't take the risk of leaving him alone. So, she took a quick wash up. Looking at herself in
the mirror, her skin was still blood stained from last night. She wiped the blood
away and remembered a time when the sight of blood made her sick. Oh, what have I
become? She thought as she washed her face. When she put the wash cloth
back into the water, it turned bright red. She finished up and now that she was clean, she felt like a whole new woman. She dressed in a white thin strapped T-shirt, a pair of men's plaid pajama pants and slipper sox.
From there, she went into the kitchen to get them both something to eat. Looking
at the clock, she threw the soiled linen in the trash compactor. Nadia leaned under
the counter, pulled out a pan and asked herself an important question.
Do you trust him? She thought, as she pulled breakfast food from the fridge.
You don't trust him? She asked herself in a different way, as if it made a difference.
If you don't trust him, then why do you have him in your house?
She paused and the idea fled from her mind as the bacon began to sizzle in the pan. From the upper cabinet, she pulled the ingredients for home made biscuits. She learned to cook while
attending Johns' wanna be boot camp. From the bowl to the rolling pin, the cutter
to the baking pan, she'd done it all before the bacon was crispy.
“Beat that!” She complimented herself.
It's not like they had cook-offs or anything but you had to be fast and Nadia was at the top of her game. She put the pan in the oven, beat the eggs and cooked them. When the timer rang, Nadia took the biscuits out of the oven and made them both a plate.
When she entered the safe room, her patient was sitting idly on the bed.
“Good morning, Sweetie! Did you sleep well?” Nadia asked, putting the plates on the
metal table.
“Sure did.” Riddick said. “You did a good stitch job. Where did you learn?” He asked.
“Just something I picked up along the way.” Nadia said.
“Eat up before your food gets cold.” She mothered.
Riddick picked up the fork and shoveled a stack of eggs into his mouth. He bit the
biscuit and complimented her on her cooking. She thanked him and asked him what
she should call him. At that moment, Riddick realized that she had no clue who he was.
“Mr. Smith.” He replied.
“Now, I know that's not your real name but if you would like me to call you that, I
will.” She replied.
“How do you know? Miss?” Riddick asked.
“My name is Nadia. It can’t be your name because I feel like I know you and I don’t
know any Smiths. Not to mention, Smith is way too common of a name and baby
there is nothing common about you.” She said, flirting.
Riddick raised an eyebrow and growled. He began to look at her the way he did
that night in his window. Once again, his mission was pushed to the back door.
Nadia only blushed at his growl of acceptance and her Kitty Kat purred.Chapter 8
Nadia had awakened the next morning by Riddick's restless soul. He was tossing and turning on the bed and mumbling incessantly. As she came closer she could see little beads of sweat covered his face and his black tank top was soaked. He rolled from side to side clenching his fists. She didn't know if she should touch him.
"Shh." She said softly. "It's okay. You're with me now; everything is just fine. She took a hand towel from the drawer and wiped his face.
"Don't worry; I am going to take good care of you." She said and he stopped.
No more tossing. No more turning. He was comforted.
Nadia stayed there beside him a little while longer. Then she checked his blood soaked dressing. It was time for a change. She left the safe room and went up into the house. She brought her first aid kit and fresh dressing for the bed. She'd had some men's clothing from one of the missions and she hoped he could fit them.
To properly treat his wounds, she would have to cut away his clothing. Back in the safe room, she pulled over her chair and a metal table. From her first aid kit, she pulled some gauze, a, syringe, suturing needle, suture and a small vial of morphine. She pulled the covers back softly.
Taking deep breaths, she sat down in the chair and began to cut up the center of his shirt and sheet. She reached the seam and cut the straps. She pulled back the sheet wondering where the wound was actually. She took a deep breath as she separated the halves of his shirt and exhaled slowly when she revealed the body of a Greek God. Nadia cringed because she had never seen anything so perfect. His skin was even colored and glistened in the light. She lost track of what she was supposed to be doing, yet again, admiring him. His chest was broad and defined. She could barely take her eyes off him. Thinking to herself, Now we're both sweating.
She finally saw the wound; it was a nasty gash low on his left side. It looked painful and it was still bleeding sparingly. She put on a pair of latex gloves. She filled the syringe with morphine and cleaned the area around the gash with iodine. Pinching the left side of his stomach, she wiped it with alcohol and injected the morphine into him. He flinched. She waited a few minutes. Taking her time, she threaded the needle, waiting for the morphine to kick in.
She began closing his gash. She tried to steady her hand. She was shaking because she’d never had done this to anyone besides herself. Still taking deep breaths, she continued. She finished up with a cross-stitch to hold the other in place. To finish, Nadia wiped around the area with more iodine. She removed her gloves, sat back for a second, took a deep breath and then proceeded to cover the stitches with clean gauze. She wanted to be sure it was kept clean until she could get him out of the garage and into the house, where it was more sanitary.
As Nadia stood up, she began to thirst for this tall drink of water, whose glass had
been broken. She was oh so happy to seal it back up again. Covering him with a
clean blanket, Nadia thought, Oh My God, he looks like a panther that is relieved of a
searing agony that once tainted his very aching soul.
She gathered her things and took them back upstairs. Nadia wanted a shower badly but she couldn't take the risk of leaving him alone. So, she took a quick wash up. Looking at herself in
the mirror, her skin was still blood stained from last night. She wiped the blood
away and remembered a time when the sight of blood made her sick. Oh, what have I
become? She thought as she washed her face. When she put the wash cloth
back into the water, it turned bright red. She finished up and now that she was clean, she felt like a whole new woman. She dressed in a white thin strapped T-shirt, a pair of men's plaid pajama pants and slipper sox.
From there, she went into the kitchen to get them both something to eat. Looking
at the clock, she threw the soiled linen in the trash compactor. Nadia leaned under
the counter, pulled out a pan and asked herself an important question.
Do you trust him? She thought, as she pulled breakfast food from the fridge.
You don't trust him? She asked herself in a different way, as if it made a difference.
If you don't trust him, then why do you have him in your house?
She paused and the idea fled from her mind as the bacon began to sizzle in the pan. From the upper cabinet, she pulled the ingredients for home made biscuits. She learned to cook while
attending Johns' wanna be boot camp. From the bowl to the rolling pin, the cutter
to the baking pan, she'd done it all before the bacon was crispy.
“Beat that!” She complimented herself.
It's not like they had cook-offs or anything but you had to be fast and Nadia was at the top of her game. She put the pan in the oven, beat the eggs and cooked them. When the timer rang, Nadia took the biscuits out of the oven and made them both a plate.
When she entered the safe room, her patient was sitting idly on the bed.
“Good morning, Sweetie! Did you sleep well?” Nadia asked, putting the plates on the
metal table.
“Sure did.” Riddick said. “You did a good stitch job. Where did you learn?” He asked.
“Just something I picked up along the way.” Nadia said.
“Eat up before your food gets cold.” She mothered.
Riddick picked up the fork and shoveled a stack of eggs into his mouth. He bit the
biscuit and complimented her on her cooking. She thanked him and asked him what
she should call him. At that moment, Riddick realized that she had no clue who he was.
“Mr. Smith.” He replied.
“Now, I know that's not your real name but if you would like me to call you that, I
will.” She replied.
“How do you know? Miss?” Riddick asked.
“My name is Nadia. It can’t be your name because I feel like I know you and I don’t
know any Smiths. Not to mention, Smith is way too common of a name and baby
there is nothing common about you.” She said, flirting.
Riddick raised an eyebrow and growled. He began to look at her the way he did
that night in his window. Once again, his mission was pushed to the back door.
Nadia only blushed at his growl of acceptance and her Kitty Kat purred.
Nadia had awakened the next morning by Riddick's restless soul. He was tossing and turning on the bed and mumbling incessantly. As she came closer she could see little beads of sweat covered his face and his black tank top was soaked. He rolled from side to side clenching his fists. She didn't know if she should touch him.
"Shh." She said softly. "It's okay. You're with me now; everything is just fine. She took a hand towel from the drawer and wiped his face.
"Don't worry; I am going to take good care of you." She said and he stopped.
No more tossing. No more turning. He was comforted.
Nadia stayed there beside him a little while longer. Then she checked his blood soaked dressing. It was time for a change. She left the safe room and went up into the house. She brought her first aid kit and fresh dressing for the bed. She'd had some men's clothing from one of the missions and she hoped he could fit them.
To properly treat his wounds, she would have to cut away his clothing. Back in the safe room, she pulled over her chair and a metal table. From her first aid kit, she pulled some gauze, a, syringe, suturing needle, suture and a small vial of morphine. She pulled the covers back softly.
Taking deep breaths, she sat down in the chair and began to cut up the center of his shirt and sheet. She reached the seam and cut the straps. She pulled back the sheet wondering where the wound was actually. She took a deep breath as she separated the halves of his shirt and exhaled slowly when she revealed the body of a Greek God. Nadia cringed because she had never seen anything so perfect. His skin was even colored and glistened in the light. She lost track of what she was supposed to be doing, yet again, admiring him. His chest was broad and defined. She could barely take her eyes off him. Thinking to herself, Now we're both sweating.
She finally saw the wound; it was a nasty gash low on his left side. It looked painful and it was still bleeding sparingly. She put on a pair of latex gloves. She filled the syringe with morphine and cleaned the area around the gash with iodine. Pinching the left side of his stomach, she wiped it with alcohol and injected the morphine into him. He flinched. She waited a few minutes. Taking her time, she threaded the needle, waiting for the morphine to kick in.
She began closing his gash. She tried to steady her hand. She was shaking because she’d never had done this to anyone besides herself. Still taking deep breaths, she continued. She finished up with a cross-stitch to hold the other in place. To finish, Nadia wiped around the area with more iodine. She removed her gloves, sat back for a second, took a deep breath and then proceeded to cover the stitches with clean gauze. She wanted to be sure it was kept clean until she could get him out of the garage and into the house, where it was more sanitary.
As Nadia stood up, she began to thirst for this tall drink of water, whose glass had
been broken. She was oh so happy to seal it back up again. Covering him with a
clean blanket, Nadia thought, Oh My God, he looks like a panther that is relieved of a
searing agony that once tainted his very aching soul.
She gathered her things and took them back upstairs. Nadia wanted a shower badly but she couldn't take the risk of leaving him alone. So, she took a quick wash up. Looking at herself in
the mirror, her skin was still blood stained from last night. She wiped the blood
away and remembered a time when the sight of blood made her sick. Oh, what have I
become? She thought as she washed her face. When she put the wash cloth
back into the water, it turned bright red. She finished up and now that she was clean, she felt like a whole new woman. She dressed in a white thin strapped T-shirt, a pair of men's plaid pajama pants and slipper sox.
From there, she went into the kitchen to get them both something to eat. Looking
at the clock, she threw the soiled linen in the trash compactor. Nadia leaned under
the counter, pulled out a pan and asked herself an important question.
Do you trust him? She thought, as she pulled breakfast food from the fridge.
You don't trust him? She asked herself in a different way, as if it made a difference.
If you don't trust him, then why do you have him in your house?
She paused and the idea fled from her mind as the bacon began to sizzle in the pan. From the upper cabinet, she pulled the ingredients for home made biscuits. She learned to cook while
attending Johns' wanna be boot camp. From the bowl to the rolling pin, the cutter
to the baking pan, she'd done it all before the bacon was crispy.
“Beat that!” She complimented herself.
It's not like they had cook-offs or anything but you had to be fast and Nadia was at the top of her game. She put the pan in the oven, beat the eggs and cooked them. When the timer rang, Nadia took the biscuits out of the oven and made them both a plate.
When she entered the safe room, her patient was sitting idly on the bed.
“Good morning, Sweetie! Did you sleep well?” Nadia asked, putting the plates on the
metal table.
“Sure did.” Riddick said. “You did a good stitch job. Where did you learn?” He asked.
“Just something I picked up along the way.” Nadia said.
“Eat up before your food gets cold.” She mothered.
Riddick picked up the fork and shoveled a stack of eggs into his mouth. He bit the
biscuit and complimented her on her cooking. She thanked him and asked him what
she should call him. At that moment, Riddick realized that she had no clue who he was.
“Mr. Smith.” He replied.
“Now, I know that's not your real name but if you would like me to call you that, I
will.” She replied.
“How do you know? Miss?” Riddick asked.
“My name is Nadia. It can’t be your name because I feel like I know you and I don’t
know any Smiths. Not to mention, Smith is way too common of a name and baby
there is nothing common about you.” She said, flirting.
Riddick raised an eyebrow and growled. He began to look at her the way he did
that night in his window. Once again, his mission was pushed to the back door.
Nadia only blushed at his growl of acceptance and her Kitty Kat purred.Chapter 8
Nadia had awakened the next morning by Riddick's restless soul. He was tossing and turning on the bed and mumbling incessantly. As she came closer she could see little beads of sweat covered his face and his black tank top was soaked. He rolled from side to side clenching his fists. She didn't know if she should touch him.
"Shh." She said softly. "It's okay. You're with me now; everything is just fine. She took a hand towel from the drawer and wiped his face.
"Don't worry; I am going to take good care of you." She said and he stopped.
No more tossing. No more turning. He was comforted.
Nadia stayed there beside him a little while longer. Then she checked his blood soaked dressing. It was time for a change. She left the safe room and went up into the house. She brought her first aid kit and fresh dressing for the bed. She'd had some men's clothing from one of the missions and she hoped he could fit them.
To properly treat his wounds, she would have to cut away his clothing. Back in the safe room, she pulled over her chair and a metal table. From her first aid kit, she pulled some gauze, a, syringe, suturing needle, suture and a small vial of morphine. She pulled the covers back softly.
Taking deep breaths, she sat down in the chair and began to cut up the center of his shirt and sheet. She reached the seam and cut the straps. She pulled back the sheet wondering where the wound was actually. She took a deep breath as she separated the halves of his shirt and exhaled slowly when she revealed the body of a Greek God. Nadia cringed because she had never seen anything so perfect. His skin was even colored and glistened in the light. She lost track of what she was supposed to be doing, yet again, admiring him. His chest was broad and defined. She could barely take her eyes off him. Thinking to herself, Now we're both sweating.
She finally saw the wound; it was a nasty gash low on his left side. It looked painful and it was still bleeding sparingly. She put on a pair of latex gloves. She filled the syringe with morphine and cleaned the area around the gash with iodine. Pinching the left side of his stomach, she wiped it with alcohol and injected the morphine into him. He flinched. She waited a few minutes. Taking her time, she threaded the needle, waiting for the morphine to kick in.
She began closing his gash. She tried to steady her hand. She was shaking because she’d never had done this to anyone besides herself. Still taking deep breaths, she continued. She finished up with a cross-stitch to hold the other in place. To finish, Nadia wiped around the area with more iodine. She removed her gloves, sat back for a second, took a deep breath and then proceeded to cover the stitches with clean gauze. She wanted to be sure it was kept clean until she could get him out of the garage and into the house, where it was more sanitary.
As Nadia stood up, she began to thirst for this tall drink of water, whose glass had
been broken. She was oh so happy to seal it back up again. Covering him with a
clean blanket, Nadia thought, Oh My God, he looks like a panther that is relieved of a
searing agony that once tainted his very aching soul.
She gathered her things and took them back upstairs. Nadia wanted a shower badly but she couldn't take the risk of leaving him alone. So, she took a quick wash up. Looking at herself in
the mirror, her skin was still blood stained from last night. She wiped the blood
away and remembered a time when the sight of blood made her sick. Oh, what have I
become? She thought as she washed her face. When she put the wash cloth
back into the water, it turned bright red. She finished up and now that she was clean, she felt like a whole new woman. She dressed in a white thin strapped T-shirt, a pair of men's plaid pajama pants and slipper sox.
From there, she went into the kitchen to get them both something to eat. Looking
at the clock, she threw the soiled linen in the trash compactor. Nadia leaned under
the counter, pulled out a pan and asked herself an important question.
Do you trust him? She thought, as she pulled breakfast food from the fridge.
You don't trust him? She asked herself in a different way, as if it made a difference.
If you don't trust him, then why do you have him in your house?
She paused and the idea fled from her mind as the bacon began to sizzle in the pan. From the upper cabinet, she pulled the ingredients for home made biscuits. She learned to cook while
attending Johns' wanna be boot camp. From the bowl to the rolling pin, the cutter
to the baking pan, she'd done it all before the bacon was crispy.
“Beat that!” She complimented herself.
It's not like they had cook-offs or anything but you had to be fast and Nadia was at the top of her game. She put the pan in the oven, beat the eggs and cooked them. When the timer rang, Nadia took the biscuits out of the oven and made them both a plate.
When she entered the safe room, her patient was sitting idly on the bed.
“Good morning, Sweetie! Did you sleep well?” Nadia asked, putting the plates on the
metal table.
“Sure did.” Riddick said. “You did a good stitch job. Where did you learn?” He asked.
“Just something I picked up along the way.” Nadia said.
“Eat up before your food gets cold.” She mothered.
Riddick picked up the fork and shoveled a stack of eggs into his mouth. He bit the
biscuit and complimented her on her cooking. She thanked him and asked him what
she should call him. At that moment, Riddick realized that she had no clue who he was.
“Mr. Smith.” He replied.
“Now, I know that's not your real name but if you would like me to call you that, I
will.” She replied.
“How do you know? Miss?” Riddick asked.
“My name is Nadia. It can’t be your name because I feel like I know you and I don’t
know any Smiths. Not to mention, Smith is way too common of a name and baby
there is nothing common about you.” She said, flirting.
Riddick raised an eyebrow and growled. He began to look at her the way he did
that night in his window. Once again, his mission was pushed to the back door.
Nadia only blushed at his growl of acceptance and her Kitty Kat purred.