Lonely in the Black

Riddick slumped, wearied and aching in his chest, upon the Lord Marshal's newly vacated throne. Parting his fingers, his head lifted slowly to drape his reflective gaze upon the masses that moved reluctantly into prostration before him, dawning gained as he murmured, repeating words spoken to him earlier.

"You keep what you kill..."

The irony was not lost on him. He, what the whole devouring race of Necromongers had designed themselves around destroying, was now their ordained ruler. The taste of it was bittersweet on his tongue, as the still warm corpse of the most recent object of his life lay at his feet, blood dribbled from her lips. The Elemental smiled wanly from her breezy position further back in the throne room.

To the right of the kneeling masses, several lower members of Necro society continued on with their tasks in processing, leaving the issue of fidelity to the nobles. A pair of sentries moved a group of restrained townspeople past, shuffling them from the drop-off point to the next step in processing.

"Riddick?!"

At the sound of his name cried out, the tremor of fear overlaid with a fatalistic hope that made it almost joyous, he snapped his attention over the helmeted heads lowered in submission before him to seek out the source. His gleaming gaze found hers, and he was transported by the deep blue of her disbelieving, panicked eyes. Even as she began to struggle with her captors, and one of them swung his baton around, Riddick found himself seeing her in a different time.

Butcher Bay, six years prior. The warden wouldn't even let him run with the general population, and operated his policy with his most dangerous tenant thusly; keep those you mistrust closer than those you don't, and they cannot surprise you. He was restrained and forced to live his days in constant exhibition under the warden's eye, near to the man's own living quarters.

Warden was a corpulent, jiggling mass of a man, with tiny pig-like eyes and a snuffling laugh. Below the soft and flabby exterior, though, lurked a sadistic and cruel wit. He was a rich man, possessing of such wealth most in his position failed to achieve even after retirement, and was fond of tormenting his famous prisoner with such goods the bound man might never receive. When food failed to tempt, and sweet wine did nothing, the warden soon angled a different direction, and often took his slaves past on their way to bathe.

Often restrained with only a few inches movement any direction of wrists and ankles for much of the time, Riddick bore the warden's torments expressionlessly, and for the most part wordlessly. Behind his dark goggles, however, his gaze would follow the voluptuous forms of the five women in tow of the warden. When they first made their way past him, he waited two days to allow the stories and imaginations to work on their minds, before lunging with a snarl at them, sending four to run screaming. The fifth, the youngest, a girl of perhaps sixteen with a dark cloud of hair, merely flinched. But she met his hidden gaze with the same tormented blue that now sought him out from across the temple floor.

"Stop!"

He barked, the harsh bite to the word echoing through the cavernous interior of the ship, and the sentry's hand stilled a moment after it tapped the baton to the dark-haired temple. She crumpled to the floor, and Riddick was on his feet in the next instant.

"Release her. Release them all."

He added the last, as if an afterthought, then turned to flick his gaze over the crowd of bent-necked nobles, and the captain wielding the triple-axe.

"I do not wish to rule you. I will return leadership of your people to one of your own, after this one decree. No longer will you convert by force. No more invading and destroying planets. You want to fuck yourselves, you go ahead. Leave everyone else out of it."

The Elemental smiled triumphantly to herself, even as Riddick moved swiftly through the murmuring crowd to where the girl had fallen. Stooping slowly, his body bruised and sore although he refused to show it, he gathered her into his arms and stood, looking once more to the captain.

"I want a ship. And after I get on it, and you release those that do not belong to you, you will take your people and pray to your un-gods that I never see you again."

His black-goggled face showed no expression, no relief at still having his life, no grief at the loss of Kyra/Jack, no hint of expecting defiance to his words. They would be fulfilled, he was confident in it. With the girl in his arms, he made ready to leave the Necromongers, for the rest of his unnatural life.


Her head ached, throbbing so painfully that it made her belly clench in unease. Rousing with a soft groan, the reason for her pain lost for the moment, she tried to lift a hand to her temple, and found that she could not. Panic raced through her veins as her eyes shot open, and also discovered that she was blind.

No, that was not entirely true. Some faint glow from behind her was illuminating the wall she faced, and as her eyes adjusted, she realized that she was strapped into a sleeping chair onboard a ship. Something moved just outside her field of vision, and she looked in that direction to watch a grey shape rise from a crouch against the black, and move closer to take the form of a man. Even as she fought to blink away the haze fogging her mind, and focus on who or what was drawing closer, the grey shape hovered, then reached out to unbind her arms so that she might move. His eyes gleamed faintly, reflecting the dim glow from behind her so that it seemed some great beast loomed above her.

Fear coursed a tremor through her veins, even as she brought her wrists together to rub them back to life, then winced as she touched the sore, swollen spot at her temple. Sensing, more then seeing, she felt him move past her in the dark, and turned in the chair toward the glow of the comm. panel. His form was clear to her, backlit so that he was a silhouette of broad shoulders, muscled arms and smooth head, and even as much as she didn't know the man, she knew he would bring her no harm.

"Riddick..."

She whispered wonderingly, watching his outline. He was silent, and turned away from her to face the panel. His hands moved over the display, and she noticed he did not bring up the lights for her. This was his ship, and they would travel by his means, it seemed. She merely sat and watched him, waiting for anything from him. As if he knew, he continued as if she were not there, allowing silence to reign for long minutes. Just as she was starting to dose back off, he turned and passed her again, a swift shadow in the darkness. His voice came as a gravely surprise behind her, and she twitched up from the beginning of slumber to swivel toward it's sound.

"Time to sleep. The ship will wake us when it's time."

If he'd been a man prone to smiling, her reaction would have brought one about. She made no inquiries, no demands to be told what went on. In the near black, where she surely could not see him but for his eyes, she stared hard at him for a long minute, her pale hands folded together. This was why he had saved her, brought her along, sacrificed his speed with her burden, simply for the fact that she would be compliant and trusting when no other ever would. That's what he told himself, but it wasn't the true reason, and they both knew it.

Sleep lifted gentle arms to draw them down to her bosom, and both drifted off with the same memory playing in tandem in their minds.

"Go on, harlots. Ply your wiles, do what you do best, tease and torment the flesh but never satisfy. He can't hurt you, you stupid cows! Get on with you!"

The warden laughed wheezingly, and shoved two of the girls at Riddick's fully restrained form, held by wrists and ankles immobile in the center of his cell. The two scantily clad young women approached him, clearly terrified, and danced stiffly before him with wide eyed glances over their shoulders at the warden. For his part, Riddick did not even move, and they couldn't tell if his eyes were open behind the goggles. At the warden's side, a younger and much skinnier girl than the one who slumbered in the transport ship was knotting her hands together, fretting silently as her blue eyes moved everywhere but on Riddick. She had begged the warden not to make her dance or touch the man-beast, and after a look of long consideration, he had finally agreed. To what end this meant, she certainly did not know, but one of the older women had hissed maliciously her thoughts on his intent.

As the youngest of his slaves at sixteen, she'd been purchased upon the condition that her maidenhood would not be taken from her until her eighteenth year. In the two between then and now, she was to learn and serve. The other slave had cackled with delight when she surmised what the warden planned for her. She dismissed it, confident that the warden would not.

When the two slaves had advanced their dance to rubbing their semi-nude bodies upon his bound one and still gained no response, even from the part of him then no brain could control, the warden stepped forward, dragging the girl by one arm. He laughed, and thrust her forward before Riddick.

"Do you smell her, you oafish beast? See not only her beauty, but smell the maidenhood clasped between her legs? What man, even an ogre such as yourself, can resist such as this? Give me what I want, and I will let you have her, in any way you wish."

He paused to slap a frightened squeal from the girl's lips, and to judge the man's reaction. She grew limper in his hand, soft little sobs from her lips, and the warden hauled her upright only to jerk the sarong from her shoulders, shucking it to her hips before ripping it free. He caught her hands and forced them behind her back, while grasping her throat in the other hand, and brought her gasping, squirming form roughly forward to shove her ungently against Riddick's rock solid form. It was a crude mockery of intimacy, a lewd and obscene puppet show of forcing two unwilling bodies to move against each other, and if the warden had been possessed of the strength to enable it to happen, he would have rubbed Riddick's nose between the girl's legs, much like a dog's into it's mess, in order to garner the desired response.

Instead, he pushed her weeping form against him until the other man growled softly, baring strong and surprisingly white teeth. At this the warden pulled her back, chuckling to himself, and took her from the room.

This procedure continued twice more, each time the girl grew less responsive and cried more, great tears of shame rolling down her face. The third time came, and while she was being forced to rub along him by the warden's hand, Riddick suddenly grunted, tilting his head slightly as he spoke to the warden.

"Let me have her."

Seeing that he'd won, the warden released her immediately and backed out from the cell. She sagged lifelessly to the floor, eyes closed, resigned to her fate. The warden pushed a button, and the bindings that held Riddick's hands and feet disengaged. He moved slowly, to stand up straight and roll the kinks from his joints, and the girl on the floor suddenly sprang to life, pushing her nude form hastily across the floor away from him. The warden leaned forward, watching with glazed-eyed anticipation, nearly salivating as Riddick sprang forward and caught the girl's arm as she reached the wall. She made a choked sound as he brought her upright and pressed himself against her. Strangely, her limbs did not seem to resist him, but she made a horrified sound as his mouth descended upon hers, as if he would devour her. A mere split second later he suddenly drew back, and shoved her away from him. She stumbled against the wall, and fell to her knees, only to crawl the rest of the way to the door, sobbing. Outside, the warden was raging.

"What, are you too good for her?! Should I bring in a pig, so that you might rut like the beast you are?! She is the virginal offering, one that I've been hard pressed not to ruin as long as I've owned her..."

He grew quiet, panting the only sound heard, as he looked wildly around, seeming to settle on something.

"Fine, you shall watch and listen then while I take her first blood. Perhaps her screams will ignite a frenzy in you."

Even as the warden's words registered and she tried to scramble away from the door and back into the beast's den, he caught her with a laugh, drug her through the door and pushed her to the floor. She choked on a sob, begging him not to do this, but the warden was a man possessed. He fumbled loose his manhood, and drove it mercilessly into her to the sound of her screams of agony. There was blood, yes, and tears aplenty upon her cheeks. The warden's other girls had dispersed, leaving only the sentries in the hall to trade worried looks. Under the mask of the girl's cries, none heard the lock on Riddick's cell click open. One second the warden was thrusting himself heedless of the damage it was causing, and the next, he gave a surprised grunt and fell sideways off of her, his head turned too far around. She looked up through tear-filled blue eyes to see Riddick standing above the broken-necked body of the warden, the key to his cell in his hand.

In the moment before the guards looked in to see why the sounds had stopped, Riddick dropped the key she had given him onto her breast, and she scooped it back up and into her mouth once more, even as a choked sob escaped from her lungs. In the next instant, he was a blur of death, working past the two guards, and eventually out of the prison. Here their memories divided into separate paths, each winding through their own stories as they slept.

She and the rest of the slaves were resold at market while Riddick was recaptured by the merc Johns, and the last she heard of him was that he and the entire crew of the ship had perished on that black planet. In the meantime, she had prospered under a fair sort of master, a merchant, one of just three slaves in his household.

They had traveled to Helion for business when the Necromongers landed, and only she and another girl had survived to be taken in for conversion. Her heart had nearly stopped when she saw Riddick's unmistakable form from across the room.

She did not begrudge him not stopping the warden from raping her maidenhood from her. It was bound to happen eventually, just in a way she would not wish on any young girl. The warden's death was payment due for delivering him the key. He had been like a caged animal, and as dangerous as they all had said he was, it still ached her heart to see him so. After the first episode with the warden, she had slunk back on her way to some errand, and had whispered her intention to him from the doorway, while the guards watched one of the other slaves perform a lewd act on herself. The tears and shame had been real, forced to prostate herself against him, she felt the humiliation and suffered it for both of them, waiting for the opportune time to steal the key.

Finally, she had, and hid it under her tongue, parting her lips to show it to him while the warden pushed her closely against Riddick. He claimed it from her with his own mouth once released, in a kiss that was anything but what one ever should be, lacking in passion and feeling. He coldly fished it out, and shoved her away. She did not begrudge him that, either. He had to survive. Such as the falcon might claw the wrist it sits upon when launching itself back to freedom, she never even expected the bird to return and suffer some retaliation upon her attacker.

A distant alarm was pushing through the fog of her sleep clouded mind. Blaring, insistent, she clawed her way upon from the heavy sleep to find the cabin in full view now. Alarm lights pulsed to the cadence of the klaxon, and she pushed herself upright to find Riddick at the controls. He didn't even look over his shoulder when he barked,

"Hit the silencer, on your left above the trans-reducer. Now!"

The intensity behind that roared commend set her hair on end, and she stumbled from the chair to slap her palm against the button, gratified by silence the instant she did.

"Fuckin' mercs already. We're gonna have to land it. This piece of shit can't keep up with their cutter. There'll be a merchant train close by. That's where you and me say goodbye."

She studied him for a moment, contemplating the idea of him actually saying goodbye to her, and moved to drop into the seat beside him and push her hair from her face.

"No."

He didn't even look at her, his goggles once more lowered over his eyes.

"You don't have a choice."

"Well, I don't give a shit what you said, Riddick. I'm not going back to the merchants, I'm not going to be owned anymore. Anywhere I go, I'll always be marked for sale. You're marked for death. I'd rather have death then slavery again. So, no. I go with you, or you can kill me now."

He said nothing, but the tightness in his movements showed that he was angry. He snapped the coordinates into the comm. and punched the codes in with quick, hard fingers. She watched him dispassionately, while her stomach fluttered nervously. Perhaps she had misjudged, and he would kill her. An instant after the thought crossed her mind, he was up from his chair. He spun hers toward him, and lodged a knee firmly between her legs on the seat's bottom, while one hand clamped in her hair to drag her head back. Her heart slammed in her chest, but she did not resist, even as he bared her throat and placed something cold and hard against the warm, delicate skin there. He'd ripped his goggles from his eyes, and lowered his face to mere inches of hers, locking her eyes with his reflective ones. She said nothing, merely fought with herself to keep her breathing even.

"You're scared to die."

He was able to read her better than she'd hoped, but she refused to deny it. Even under threat of pain and death, some dark place in her heart leapt in excitement at the way he quickened her blood, the scent and feel of his power and danger commingled, and she was aroused. Her words came in a throaty whisper, struggling with herself.

"I'd rather live with you than die by your hand, that's true. But if death is what awaits me, I know you'll make it quick and painless for me."

His expression did not change, although his head tilted slightly, and his nostrils flared. He knows! she thought to herself as her heart leapt again in her breast. Sudd øenly, the knife's edge was gone, replaced by the warm pad of his thumb, the fingers splayed across her throat and jaw. He lowered his head so that his mouth brushed her ear, and she was reminded of the devouring kiss of several years earlier, even as his fingers tightened on her hair, prickling her scalp with pain. Desire ebbed through her like a hot drink through her belly, and, as if sensing the movement, his knee twitched, pushing up a little harder and bringing a gasp to her lips. Oh yes, he knows.

"You would remain, live constantly on the run, your life always in danger? That is what you want? What you think I am and what I really am are two very different things. I don't even know your name."

He spoke this against her ear, and she shuddered minutely, lifting first one hand, then the other, when neither had been brought up to defend herself, to his muscled chest. As if her light touch prodded a fresh wound, his skin seemed to flinch from her fingers for the barest second.

"It's what I want, Riddick. My name is Revelle."

She replied, still in whisper. He responded by moving his mouth down from her ear, along the corner of her jaw to sweep across her exposed throat, which worked convulsively as his fingers tightened ever harder in her hair. The light caress from his hot breath so close to her skin sent a thrill through her body, vibrating out to that slow, olten ebb of desire and feeding it. He could sense it, taste it on the air, and on her skin, she knew... and found she didn't much care.

"Revelle."

He repeated her name, moving it across her skin light as a feather, and she drew a shaky breath under it. He was toying with her, but she was loathe not to find some enjoyment in it.

"I find you much more desirable when you give yourself willingly... I like a woman who knows what she wants. She may just come to find out that it's not all she was expecting it to be."

He released her, lifting his presence away from her, and stooped to pick up his goggles and snap them back on. Without even glancing in her direction, he strode toward the back of the cabin and began searching through the compartments, leaving her to smooth out her uneven breathing on her own in the cockpit. She had a faint smile on her lips, shaky and uncertain as it was, as she pondered his last words. What did that mean, not what she was expecting it to be? Should she take that literally, and assume he was not fully a man? That she could almost believe, that he was some sort of strange animal, for he hardly seemed human. But she knew it to be false, for there had been talk of the last Furyan male bringing down the Necromongers.

A proximity alarm brought her out of her reverie, and she snapped her attention to the display, anxiety rising in her throat, only to find that it was only one of the ship's shuttles casting off from the belly of the cutter. A moment's panic shook her, where she thought Riddick had taken off in it, abandoning her in the black, but he poke up behind her, his voice a pleasantly low rumble.

"Shuttles only leave a small ion trail, it'll take em a lot longer to tail one of them then it will this ship. Let's hope they don't notice that this model was equipped with three, instead of two."

He leaned over her shoulder, and watched the second fall away from the ship, then turn to cut it's own course in the opposite direction of the first. A lever under the panel disengaged the third from the tail, and he smashed it under his fist.

"Gather up anything we can use. It's gonna take us a couple of weeks to reach any livable planet in that little shuttle."

He set himself down in the other chair once more without glancing sideways at her, and began fiddling with the panel once more, pulling up charts to map their progress. She watched him through her inky curls, wondering what he was thinking, for a moment. Without asking where they were going, she rose finally and moved carefully to the lower level of the ship, her hand pressed to her temple as she remembered the blow from the baton.

Twenty minutes later she looked up to hear his boots ringing across the steel flooring, and watched him swing into the shuttle from where she sat stowing med. supplies and food wherever she could find room. He ignored her, and pulled the door shut behind him.

"I still need to get the..."

He cut her off with a gesture, and kicked the tray she'd been holding out back into it's place.

"No more time. Strap up, it's time to leave."

She opened her mouth to protest, but simply closed it again as he turned away. It wouldn't do any good, and she really did have everything they'd need. She'd simply wanted to go back one more time to see if she'd missed anything that would fetch a decent price at market. They might have food and clothing, but sooner than later they'd need more fuel and that required currency. He had already dropped into the main chair in the nose of the little shuttle, and she hurriedly found another, buckling herself in with trembling fingers. If he showed this much urgency, they must be close. And she found herself not really wanting to die this day.

As the shuttle dropped off the back of the ship, hovering in place a moment to let the bigger craft put some distance between them, she took a moment to look over what would be her home for the next however many weeks. It wasn't much, that was for sure. Barely enough room for two or three people to move without standing on each other's heads. A privy at the very back; four bunks just before, set into the walls; a small divider space that could be either extended to create storage, as she had, or pushed into the walls to make room for bigger objects; a wall, then the cabin and cockpit combined, with comm. panel and seating. Not much, indeed. And Riddick seemed such a solitary creature that she was already wondering how to best stay out of his way.

Just while she was looking at the back of his shaved head and wondering how many weapons he had hidden on his person and in this shuttle, and simultaneously questioning why he'd had her strap in, he slid a lever upward, and the little craft jumped forward physically. She was tossed sideways, painfully against the straps that she found weren't quite tight enough. Fumbling with the catches to draw them tighter, her lips skinned back in a grimace against the force driving against her, and she gave up her attempts in favor of simply holding on. It seemed that a lot of time passed before she felt she could take it no more, her head was pounding excruciatingly and the pain welled so that she felt she would soon be sick, and she finally allowed herself to call pleadingly to him.

"Riddick...?"

The question unsaid, and he appeared not to have heard her. She choked back a sob, wondering if he'd fallen unconscious as she was threatening to do, when suddenly their motion slowed. The pressure slowly began to ease off, until she found she was able to sit unhindered, and the pain in her head had subsided. Riddick had swiveled around to face her while she'd cradled her head in her hands, and she lifted her eyes to find the interior of the shuttle darkened. She knew he preferred it as such, and it enabled him to remove the ever present goggles, but the darkness unnerved her, leaving her exposed to someone who could see her, but that she couldn't view in return. For the time, she held her tongue, for the darkness seemed to help her headache.

"They were coming up on the ship's ion trail. We needed to put some space between us and the ship. Even if our trail hasn't faded away by the time they think to look for it, we'll be weeks ahead of them, thanks to that little jump."

He spoke from the darkness, and she trained her eyes in his direction, straining to find his outline. She could find none, the only light being from the stars visible from the narrow view pane in the nose of the shuttle. He took her silence for what it was, and she set to unbuckling her harness, fingers fumbling for she knew he watched her, but offered no aid. Before he'd boarded, she'd tried to memorize the layout of the little craft so that she could move about it without needing light, and now attempted to prove that she wouldn't burden him by asking for illumination.

She stood, and walked carefully back to where she'd stuffed the food, only to realize, to her dismay, that even though she could find it, she didn't know what it was. A dry chuckle came from behind her, closer than she'd expected as he'd risen and followed her, and she whirled around, a packet in each hand. As before, she could sense him rather than see, and she knew he stood just a few paces away. Seeing him in her memory, she looked at where his face would be, and held one hand out to him.

"I don't know what it is, but you should eat something."

Silence greeted her words, and her hand still extended with the packet. A second passed before she realized that she could see her hand held out in the air, and looked past it to see Riddick standing by the comm. unit, goggles off in the dim light.

"A little won't hurt either of us..."

He said, stepping back toward her to take what she held out to him. He snorted, turning it over in his hand so that she could see what was wr ÷itten on it. Toothpaste. She giggled nervously and traded what she held with it.

"Beans... and rice. A more fitting supper. I think we'll have to eat it cold... I don't know where the galley is on a shuttle..."

She broke off, because he was looking at her oddly, or, rather, oddly for him. He turned and pushed on a panel set in the wall, and a little shelf slid out, doors on either side of it. They opened to reveal bowls and cups, and the shelf was set with heating components. Water ran from a spigot above, and she merely looked at him in astonishment. Amazingly, he laughed. She found herself liking the sound, rusty as it was.

"What, did you think you would have to live like an animal? This is a shuttle, designed for human life, not a shipping crate."

He turned away with his packet in hand, and she made a sound of protest. Didn't he want her to cook it for him?

"You heat yours up. I like mine this way."

He said, and moved toward the back of the shuttle, leaving her alone in the dim light. She shook her dark head to herself, and busied her hands with figuring out how to prepare her meal.

She ate it by herself as well, sitting in his chair at the helm, feet curled under her as she stared out at the star dusted blackness that surrounded them. She rarely had ventured into space, having only made a few jumps in her life, and it always left her feeling very small and insignificant, distantly uncomfortable as well.

A faint sound brought her back to herself, and she set her empty bowl aside to move slowly back into the rest of the shuttle, searching for the source of the noise. She found it readily enough, not remotely surprised that it was made by the only other inhabitant onboard the ship with her. Riddick had managed to hang himself by his feet in the doorway from the bunks to the privy, and was clutching a very large gun in his arms as he lifted his torso toward the ceiling, grunting with each repetition.

He must have noticed her as she stepped into the bunk room and picked up his empty dinner packet, but made no acknowledgment as she turned and left to dispose of it.

Taking the time to wipe out her own bowl, she returned to find him still at it. For lack of anything else to look at, she rolled onto one of the lower bunks and lay on her belly to watch him, stuffing the lumpy pillow between in her arms and under her chin to prop it up. His eyes met hers each time he lowered himself back to start, but he never seemed to tire, no matter how loudly he grunted.

She'd just rolled to one side to kick her boots off, looking away from him, when he brought his feet back down to the floor with a thump, causing her to look up. His back was to her, and as she watched, he pulled the black shirt off over his head and dropped it to the floor. One raven brow lifted slightly, admiring his toned form, and she pulled the band that held her hair back free as she laid back down on her stomach.

Folding her arms over the mashed pillow, and resting her cheek atop the back of her hand, she watched Riddick grab the upper frame of the doorway with his hands, and begin levering himself up with his arms, his body rigid as it left the floor. The sounds were less, but his strength seemed just as unflagging and tireless. Watching him, she couldn't help it. It was what she'd been trained and raised to do. She found herself wondering what sort of lover he would make, with all this energy and patience, his keen mind and attention to detail... topped with a healthy dose of mystery and danger, and he was becoming quite the irresistible package.

As if he had heard her thoughts, he dropped back to the ground with catlike grace and turned to face her. She forced her eyes to remain on his, instead of roving the perfect sculpt of his abs, chest and shoulders. A flutter of desire moved through her again, and she nearly shook her head to fight it. He stared at her, wordless, for so long that she began to worry that she'd offended him, and opened her mouth to apologize. As soon as she did, he backed into the privy, and the door slid closed behind him. The sound of running water met her ears, and this time she did shake her head, to quell any thoughts of what might be going on in there, and she leaned over the bunk to pull out the drawer below the bed opposite her, where she'd stuffed men's clothing. Below her own, she rummaged out a clean shirt and shorts to sleep in. Leaving his drawer open so he'd know where to find fresh clothing, she rose with her own set, hoping he left enough warm water for her to bathe, and moved out into the cockpit area to change into them.

There would be plenty of hot water for the girl when he was done, for the spray he stood under was unheated and bitterly cold. In the darkness he rubbed soap over his skin and tried not to imagine it was her hand that guided the gritty bar. He was uncomfortable enough in her presence, unsure of how to act around someone not hostile to him, and it didn't help his case that she was so goddamn beautiful. He'd thought to work his aggressions out on his muscles, only to find that she wandered back to watch, and the sight of her laying sprawled like some lazy cat, with that dark hair around her face and her blue eyes meeting his calmly each time he looked for them... a cold shower had been the best option. His earlier attempts as scaring her had not turned out as he'd expected and that left him wondering what she really wanted. She was the first in so long to willingly share a space with him that it was hard not to think like a predator. Having her here also aided in pushing aside the memory of Kyra.

Before that thought could lodge itself any further, he shook himself off with a growl, and stepped out of the privy. He'd half hoped to startle her with his nakedness, but he was denied that, only finding the drawer pulled open on the floor. So where had she gone, and why? The paranoia couldn't stay down long, and he stepped into a pair of pants even as he stalked forward to look carefully around the corner. Instead of finding her sending out a message like he half expected, his gaze instead found her changing in her dark. She'd figured out how to manage the lights, and for some reason known only to her, had shut them off. Already shed of her old clothing, she'd changed into a pair of shorts that rode high on her thighs, and had her back to him as she lifted her arms above her head to allow the shirt to slide over her head and down her bare back. He made no pretense, and stepped into the room.

"There's water for you, still. Sleep, if you want. I'll be up for the watch."

She turned toward the sound of his voice, her unseeing eyes directly upon him.

"And what of you, then? When will you sleep?"

She wasn't too comfortable with the thought of being on watch while he slept, but she was prepared to do it. She'd thought they'd both sleep at the same time.

"I don't sleep much, anyway."

It seemed to be all he had to say on the subject. She stood before the helm with her hands on her hips, unaccepting of that reply. Unable to see the grim smile that pulled at his lips when she lifted her hand to point to the bunks, she firmed her voice sternly.

"And I don't care. You need to sleep. Go. Now!"

Echoing his previous command, her unseeing face gave off the expression that told she would not be deterred. Instead of fighting with her, he simply turned around and swung himself up into the bunk opposite and above the one she'd lain in earlier. She watched him stare at the ceiling wordlessly for a few moments in the dim light thrown from the opened door of the privy, knowing he'd probably get back up once she was asleep, but just shook her head and kicked his drawer closed, then moved into the light. She didn't lock the door, but it never tried to pen. When she emerged later, clean smelling and still damp, she found him still in his bunk, this time with eyes closed. She found her own, and tried to do the same. Sleep was elusive, but when it came, it took her deeply.

He drowsed, listening to the even rhythm of her breathing, and allowed himself a few minutes of sleep until he was sure she wouldn't reawaken. Somehow he did truly fall asleep, and was woken to her whispering of his name.

"Riddick?"

"You're supposed to be sleeping."

A long pause, followed by a sigh.

"I know. I keep waking up... I've never slept alone before..."

She trailed off, leaving the implication where it lay, before trying once more to explain,

"Ever since I was a child, I can't remember one night that I didn't sleep in a bed with at least three other people... I keep rolling over to feel someone breathing beside me and almost rolling out of the bunk..."

"Good thing you're not on the top."

Was all he said, after a short pause where he might have been thinking. She didn't really assume that he'd allow her to crawl into his bed, but it was the truth, nonetheless. Chewing on her lip, she turned over. If this was one price to pay for freedom, she'd simply have to learn to adjust, she knew that. He certainly didn't entirely cozen to the fact that she shared his company equally, if anything, she seemed to make him a little... off. Her obvious ease and lack of discomfort were odd to him, in that she could sleep less then three meters from him, and not be the slightest bit afraid that he would loom out of the dark and harm her. She knew she was safe when she was with him, but be-damned her harlot's heart, she also knew she wouldn't be content to simply coexist. Her downfall... she always wanted more. And her mind kept stubbornly returning to dwell on the physical attraction that pulled at her loins, making her ache to feel his weight on her belly, his skin and hard muscles under her fingertips, his strong presence upon her...

She sighed softly and ran her hands along her body, hidden under the blanket, to the thought of them belonging to him. He was silent, but she didn't care if he was awake or not... she partially wanted him to know what she was doing. With that familiarly aching heat rising in her loins, she trailed her fingers along her belly, pushing the shirt up as she turned her face to one side, seeing him braced above her in her mind, and teased first one, then the other nipple into hardness. Her back arched slightly, her breathing faintly ragged, and her other hand slid downward.

Suddenly, Riddick's bunk creaked, and he landed with a soft thump on the floor just beside her. She froze, the erotic pictures in her mind dried up like a sun-cracked mud puddle. Just as she was reaching for the blanket, he hunkered down in the blackness. She could barely make out his outline, but she knew he could see her clearly.

"If you're going to do that, you should at least let me watch..."

He spoke, his voice low and full of gravel, sending that anticipatory thrill racing through her. She freed a hand from under the blanket to tug it downward, her other hand rouching her shirt up under her breasts so that her bare midriff beckoned. Unseeing eyes gazed through half-lowered lashes as she whispered in reply,

"Why don't you just help me, instead?"

Even as the invitation left her lips as bold as they could be, a tremor of excitement and fear slid through her. She wanted him, and there was a certain glory in allowing him to know the extent of her desire. Riddick held his silence for a long time, the only thing audible the beating of her own pulse in her veins, and she half-wondered if she'd fallen asleep, when he spoke finally, gravel grinding out his implication.

"Be careful what you ask for..."

He stood, with that parting comment, and she felt more than saw his shadow leave the bunk area, heard his boots hit the grating out in the cockpit area. With her heart still hammering, she released a pent up breath in a rush of air, and stared up at the bottom of the bunk above her until she nodded off. She got a good couple of hours of sleep in before her body roused her naturally, and she rose, alone in the bunk room still, to pad out into the cockpit in her bare feet. A yawn on her lips, she started to say something to Riddick's slouched form facing away from her, but interrupted herself with the eye-watering yawn coupled with a limb-aching stretch that rocked her to her toes, arms above her dark head, long legs barely clad in the shorts. Riddick swiveled in the chair to face her as she entered, and cast a smugly predatory glance upon the bared features.

Reopening her eyes to find him watching her, she gave him a lazy smile and drug her hands jointly through her ragged, unruly mop of raven curls as she dropped casually to one of the jump seats and crossed her bare legs.

Hands ran over her face, to link together and push out in another stretch that ended in cracked knuckles, she blinked away the sleep and studied him.

"Did you sleep at all?"

When his silence offered no reply, she continued,

"Are you really as inhuman as the stories tell that you don't even need to sleep? You defeated an entire conquering nation yesterday, among who knows what else, and you're not exhausted. Amazing."

She watched him sidelong during this little tirade, to judge the response garnered with her sharp blue eyes. Something in his expression twitched in the gloomy half-light, reflected glow from the console, but that was it.

She'd seen him hunkered over the body of a woman back on the Necro ship, known that he'd had it taken away, and she was infinitely curious. However, she was also smart enough not to bring it up.

He'd returned his attention to the comm. panel, and didn't look up when he replied curtly,

"I sleep with my eyes open."

"Figures."

She quipped dryly, then continuing as she folded her arms loosely across her abdomen and leaned back in the seat,

"Are they still on us, or did you lose them?"

His reflective eyes cut over to her for a second, then back down to the display, as he punched up a map.

"This is the skiff. This is Mynos 11. I'll stop here and unload unnecessary baggage, change ships. There should be enough onboard to fetch a good price on the market, get me a nicer skiff."

While he spoke, she studied his expressionless face, silently admiring the lines around his mouth, the sexy growl to his voice, the strength in his hands. It took a moment for his words to reach her brain, and they were accompanied with a sudden cold stab of fear and doubt. They way it sounded made it seem like he was looking to offload everything not of immediate use to him, namely, her. Mynos 11 might be some back-galaxy mining moon, but it was certainly big enough to run some decent trade, and the tattoo gracing the nape of her neck and encircling her wrists marked her as a commodity worth more than the ship they rode in.

Stunned, she opened a trembling mouth to ask what he intended to do with her, and was abashed to discover that tears spanked behind her eyes, and her throat grew swollen and ached with a lump. Instead, she swiveled away from him and rose too quickly from the chair, leaving it spinning lazily behind her as she stumbled into the aft portion of the craft.

Throwing herself into the privy, she barely got the door closed and a hand clapped over her mouth to catch a gut-wrenching sob before she sank to the floor. Cradling herself in her hands, she rocked mindlessly, near soundlessly in her sorrow. She was surprised by the sickening level of betrayal she felt in her belly, shocked at herself for reacting in such a manner, but in the end, helpless to ebb the flow of tears. Betrayal was the right word, in fact, she felt the knife in her back twist as if he clutched the hilt, and she sobbed for her freedom, so newly tasted, so quickly taken away. She didn't even know why she was so upset, when she'd been telling herself logically from the moment she awoke onboard that this was her only true use to him.

She even allowed herself a few minutes of self-indulgent pity, imagining that he was eaten up by guilt at what he was doing, knowing her heart was breaking even as he locked the door to her cage once more. The tears soon subsided, for even as much as she tried to wallow in it, she couldn't force the emotion. The whole episode had only lasted about fifteen minutes, and she highly doubted he'd paid the slightest attention.

Hitting the light off as the door opened, she stepped back out into the bunk area hastily swiping at her face, when Riddick dropped from his bunk to land directly before her, his arms extended on either side as he gripped the sides of the upper bunks. She gasped involuntarily, surprised and feeling caught out in her tears, and it caught painfully in her throat.

He leaned forward on his arms, swinging in close, his face inches from hers, ever impassive. She met his gaze as bravely as she could muster, with softly hitching breath and wet lashes, and only flinched slightly when he suddenly dropped his arms to rock into her, one arm sliding around her waist, the other lifting a forefinger to her face, where he drug the digit curiously down her cheek through the track of her tears before touching the damp pad to his tongue.

"I wish I could do that..."

He said with an odd tone, and it was a second before she realized he was referring to her crying, and not selling her.

"No you don't. It's weak."

She said slowly, her tongue thick in her head. She hated herself at that moment, for her mind reeled with regret and sorrow,but her lustful body rejoiced at his closeness. Even as he brushed the back of his knuckles along her wet cheek in an oddly gentle gesture, her heart leapt in a rush. He lifted his other hand from her hip and used them both to wipe the tears from her face, marveling over his damp fingers for moment as she expelled a shaky breath and made to move away from him. He caught her wrist, hard fingers clamping painfully for just a moment before loosening.

"That's why I can't."

He said, looking hard at her until she squirmed under the scrutiny and tested his grasp once more. It tightened imperceptibly, and she was torn between fighting him and simply giving up.

"Listen, I.."

"Why were you crying?"

He interrupted her, sharply, and caught her other wrist as well. She hesitated a moment or two, then pursed her lips softly and gave a small shake of her head, averting her eyes. He squeezed them both, pulling her hands forward and together as she gave a soft gasp of pain.

"Answer me."

He commanded, his voice low and dangerous. Tears threatened to rise again, and she swallowed hard against them, still looking away from him, her eyes downcast so that he couldn't read her through them. She didn't want him to know how wounded she was that he would cast her aside, didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd hurt her after all. When the minutes ticked past, and it became apparent that she wasn't going to heed him, Riddick answered his own question, punctuating each sentence by pulling her a little closer, his voice soft and mocking.

"You figure that I'll sell off everything I can wh en we land on Mynos. That's why I brought you along in the first place. I know how much you'd be worth on some dried up mining moon, how much some old man with a dried up old wife would pay to own something beautiful to stick his dick in, a pair of firm tits to fondle when he wishes."

He lowered his voice to a whisper, caressing her cheek with his words as he held her wrists to either side of his chest, her body pulled in close enough to his to feel the heat radiating from it. She trembled in his grasp, and he liked that. His mouth dropped lower, brushing the shell of her ear with his lips when he breathed the words, nose buried in the soft smell of a woman's hair.

"But you thought wrong. You paid for my freedom once, and I always return my debts. Once we're safe from the mercs, you tell me what planet you want dropped off on. Deal?"

The moment he started reeling her in against him, her entire consciousness shrank to envelope each little thing he did, and she was minutely aware of the grip of his hard fingers around the delicate tracing circling her wrists and the warmth that radiated from them, as well as his chest first brushing, then crushing, against her own. More adequately, her concentration had been diverted by the path of his mouth, that soft, tickling, sensual trail that moved across her skin and left her knees weak and trembling with anticipation and desire. His words barely registered, so involved in enjoying the tremor he sent through her body, but she comprehended them enough as she gasped softly when his lips brushed her ear. She looked up at him then, a shiver of pleasure coursed through her body while her heart hammered in her breast, and she showed her gratitude in the most appropriate means she could fathom at that moment.

She kissed him.

Her lips parted softly, hungry in anticipation, and she lifted her chin to press her mouth to his before either of them could think about it much. His only sign of surprise was a sharp inhalation of breath, his mouth firm and unyielding against hers for a moment only. Then, as if she'd broken past a barrier, his lips parted to claim hers urgently, searching and pushing for more, while his hands found their way to‚ combine her wrists in one hand, the other clutching her hip as he pressed her back against the closed door of the privy. Her arms held above her head, he leaned his weight against her, deepening the kiss hungrily with a passionate vehemence that frightened her. His tongue did not hesitate, but forced past her lips, and he pushed so hard against her that her jaws ached, breath stolen.

Frightened at what she'd unleashed, she sucked in air through her nose, only to have it nearly crushed from her as his bulk levered hard against her, his hips meeting hers so roughly that she cried out into his mouth, only to have the whimper stolen from her as well. His free hand tore at her shirt, raking it up to paw her breasts, but she felt his hardness aching against her the most, digging painfully in it's eagerness into her abdomen. Her heart stammered in her chest, unable to draw enough breath to fully fill her lungs, her throat blocked and invaded, she tried to fight the rising tide of panic swelling within her, but found herself uttering a terrified whimper, squirming desperately in his grasp.

He broke the kiss and growled against her cheek, thrusting the hard spade of his desire against her again, vise-like grip clenched too hard on soft skin.

"I told you to be careful, didn't I? You thought you wanted this, but you've changed your mind now, haven't you? Last warning, Revelle. Don't tempt me. I won't be so gentle next time."

A final brutal squeeze, and he released her to step back and disappear in the darkness. She sobbed for air and sank to the floor, her head reeling and heart pounding to the tune of angry and injured flesh. Shaking hands held herself, curled against the door, and after a few minutes of shock, she sat crying silently... in relief. His intentions were now a little more clear to her, and may the gods help her, as frightened as he'd just made her, she was incredibly turned on. Despite the pain and fear, a certain familiar slipperiness could be felt between her legs, and she had trouble calming her breathing. She kept reliving the encounter in her mind, and was loathe to even stand up for fear of dispelling it. Some time passed, and she eventually crawled into her bunk and fell asleep.

The jerky rocking of the craft woke her, as thrusters fired noisily. They were coming into atmo, on Mynos 11, she assumed as she rolled off the bunk, and pulled the drawer open below to tug on a pair of men's pants and a heavier shirt, as well as socks and a pair of boots two sizes too big. The ship canted to one side, tossing her onto the opposite bunk with a surprised cry, and she had to struggle to keep her feet while she staggered out to the cockpit area.

Riddick was in the center jumpseat, his back to her while he manipulated the controls. She barely made it to one
of the other two seats before the ship lurched violently, colors streaming past the view pane, and began to shake uneasily. Hurried fingers crammed the buckles together, tightening the webbing between being tossed to one side or the other. Finally secured, she gripped the handholds with white knuckles and watched Riddick's taut frame slouched rigid in the center console until the craft came through atmo and smoothed out.

Chewing her lip, she debated on whether to ask him or not. Tortured over breaking the silence and wanting to stay useful, she finally coughed softly, then asked,

"Should I start gathering up the goods for sale?"

Silence met her as a reply, and she watched the back of his head, silhouetted by the pale skyline as they descended upon the biggest settlement on Mynos 11. He spoke, so long afterwards that she'd almost forgotten that she'd asked him a question.

"No. The landing might be rough, but you should get everything you want to keep. Food, supplies, clothes.

Everything else will go with the ship."

"None of these clothes fit me, I want to shop a little when we land."

She blurted out, wincing at herself even as the words tumbled free. He turned at this, to look at her slowly, appraisingly silent. His goggles were back on. She tried to look back, but the dead reflection of the black lenses was too much for her, and she averted her attention to unstrapping herself. He turned back around, still wordless, to focus on landing the craft.


Docked and settled, the bulkhead door thumped open to allow a pair in heavy cloaks to walk out, both laden with a rucksack on their backs. The taller one pulled ahead, turning to the dockmaster who waited by the meter. The second of the pair hesitated, watching for a few minutes before following the lead, and the first turned around to
converse quietly with his partner, reaching for the other's rucksack to swing both upon his back. The second figure moved off into the market, cloak wrapped tightly against the chill wind, while the first returned to his dealings with the dockmaster.

Moving from stall to stall, the heavy fabric of the cloak pulled low over her face, she paused to point to certain items, ask price, and stabbed at a portable creditor to notate which and how many. She was return in an hour to the dock and hand over her creditor to the master, who would sum up her purchases, deduct them from the total gained for the craft and goods after the new one had been obtained, while the workers loaded the supplies onto the new vessel. She had a decent mind for figures, and knew roughly how much she could afford to spend, so the bulk of her purchases were made within the first quarter of the hour.

She kept her hood pulled down low, and tightly about her person, ever in fear that someone would discover who she was, or, even worse, what she was. She spent the last half of her hour simply wandering around, observing the people interacting with each other, and the wares they proffered. He'd forewarned her to keep a low profile, something she didn't really need him to voice for her to heed. She knew the danger they both were exposed to, his much more than her own, for his more notorious fame, even out here on some distant crater.

Paused before a vendor with colored baubles programmed to flash and strobe while dancing to music, a novelty both absurd and beautiful, and she found herself unable to look away. A shadow moved up behind her, reaching a hand out to snatch the creditor from her hand. She whirled in an instant, fist of her other hand curled to make an impact with the thief's face, and she found her wrist caught, face to face with Riddick looming under his cowl. With a small sound of exasperation, she released the creditor to his hand and folded her arms under the cloak.

Riddick scanned through the screen of the creditor, then looked over it at her.

"Time to go."

She quirked a brow at him quizzically, but followed him without question through the crowd back toward the docks. They passed their old craft, currently being stripped of goods by workers, and Riddick handed the creditor to the dockmaster. The burly man eyed Revelle's form curiously, then looked down at the screen of the creditor.

"Well, it looks like I owe ya some credits. Unless ya'd want to go back an' do more shoppin'?"

The man looked almost hopeful, darting his gaze back and forth between the pair of them, while the wind whipped their cloaks about their legs. Riddick slowly shook his head, and the man, sensing a loss, counted out a handful of chits into a bag and handed it over. It was pocketed quickly, and Riddick turned away from the man, dismissing him as he walked away. Revelle ran a few paces to catch up, and walked slightly behind him in silence.

They stopped before a shabby little craft, smaller even than the one they'd just sold, with a few crates being stowed in the aft bay. That same eyebrow lifted a bit as she eyed it, then looked to Riddick, who moved forward to shake off the loaders and close the hatch. He swung himself inside, wordless, and she followed suit lest he leave her behind.

Only two jumpseats, Riddick occupied one of them, and she moved to take the second, with a cautious eye. Her brow was furrowed in confusion. Why would he choose such a piece of space trash to trade for what they'd been flying? She didn't think this one would get them out of atmo, much less outrun any mercs on their tail. It shuddered violently as Riddick fired up the engines, and she cast an apprehensive glance sidelong at him. He turned a slow head her way, goggles reflecting back to her, and bared his teeth so slowly she didn't recognize it as a feral grin at first. It didn't ease her fears any, but she didn't think that had been its intention anyhow. She pursed her lips, but said nothing as the craft lurched and whined as it became airborne.

Two hours later, having skimmed over miles of mines and ocean, they landed precariously upon another trading camp, and proceeded to trade ships once more. Riddick moved the two unopened crates to the new ship, while Revelle wandered about the inside. It was much larger, with five defined bunk rooms, a galley and lounge, and a large cargo bay. The bridge was separated by a heavy bulkhead door, as was each other section of the ship, and the craft boasted two complete levels.

Surprised at how big it was, she wondered how long they would keep it.
She was exploring the privy, which was big enough for two commodes and sinks, and two separate four head common showers. The utility tiling and plastic looked clean and somewhat new, and she was poking around in compartments when a loud noise sounded just behind her. Her heart stuttered in her chest and she jumped, with an involuntary scream as she spun around. Riddick stood just behind her, arms braced on the cupboards on either side of her, grinning as he leaned forward to invade her personal space.

"Boo."

He growled, swaying slightly toward her, his teeth glinting. She gasped for air, one hand on her breast to still her pounding heart, and smacked out at his shoulder.

"Why did you do that?!"

She demanded, as her blow glanced off his muscled arm and she felt the warmth of his skin under her palm, instantly triggering her slut reflex so that her mind filled with glorious visions of lust and the animal heat of him against her. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, since all he did was flex his muscles and grin a little wider as he chuckled slowly,

"Because I like it."

Her pulse raced a little faster, breathing quickened as h Íer body responded to his closeness, and she wondered if he knew that, and if that was why he liked it so much. She opened her mouth to quip a reply, but her stomach growled loudly, cutting her off. She laughed and ducked under his arm, flirtation intent making her trail one hand along his stomach and over his ribs before padding calmly out into the corridor. While she headed down to the cargo hold to unpack the crates, she heard Riddick's boots on the terra steel flooring moving the opposite direction, presumably the bridge for the ship left atmo soon after.

A few trips later, she'd stowed all the goods purchased, and had everything arranged the way she wanted it in the galley. The pair of rucksacks with goods from the first craft and the more personal items like clothing and weaponry were left to sit in the lounge while she cooked up something edible for the pair of them. His plate in hand, she left the galley to walk up to the bridge where Riddick was seated, arms folded upon his chest, seemingly asleep. She paused in the doorway, unsure whether to wake him or retreat back to the galley and eat her own dinner, but he spoke without looking around.

"What?"

She snorted softly, and stepped in a few paces with the plate extended.

"Food."

He made an impatient gesture with his fingers, and she handed it to him, then backed to the doorway once more, intending on leaving him to eat in peace. As her back turned, he asked,

"Where are you going?"

That gave her pause, and she stopped to look over her shoulder at him, leaning her belly against the doorjamb.

"Back to eat mine. When you're done, I'll put your things away if you choose which bunk you want."

"I don't care which one. You pick."

He said, then forked some food into his mouth. She watched him chew for a few seconds, then pushed off from the door to move back down the corridor to sit and eat her dinner. He swiveled in his chair, chewing reflexively as he watched her walk away from him.

Later, fed and upon investigation of each bunk, she found that the one nearest the bridge was meant to be the captain's quarters and featured a bigger living area and personal sink and such. She had half a mind to take it for herself, since he left the choosing up to her, but instead went the safer course and moved his things into it. For herself she took the bunk across the corridor and closest to the galley.

While she was putting her things away, sitting on her knees in the middle of the floor sorting out her newly bought clothing, she heard Riddick's boots on the rungs of her ladder, and looked up to the darkness that had descended out in the rest of the ship.

"Knock... knock..."

He said dryly, and dropped down into her bunk without using the ladder. He looked around, then walked around her to drop into the only chair, a squashed thing that slumped in the corner, and kick his boots up to prop them on the edge of the bed. She concentrated on shaking out each article of clothing, then refolding it to place in certain piles. Reaching into the pile as she glanced sidelong at him, she came out with a stringy bit of underwear and tried to shove it back down out of sight, but not before he leaned forward, dropping his feet to the floor and placing his elbows on his knees, and said,

"Oh, now what is this?"

She pursed her lips and looked over her shoulder at him, then smirked as she slid over to her hip and flung the black panties at him, then followed it by the matching bra. Riddick caught them both, crushing them in his hands, then looked over at her as she quipped,

"Why don't you model them for me?"


She seemed to have surprised a laugh out of him, for he tipped back his head and expressed his mirth at her words with that throaty chuckle that sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine. He recovered to tilt his chin back to stare at her for a long minute, which she eturned for only half as long before dropping her gaze back to the unsorted pile of clothing.

"Did you find your bunk?"

She asked after sitting in silence for a few minutes, and glanced over at him to find her panties spread out in his hands like a cat's cradle. She gave a small snort of derisive laughter and rolled to her other hip to lean over and snatch at the underwear.

"Gorram, give those back before you ruin them!"

He held them out of her grasp, over his head, and she dove at him, grabbing his arm with both hands as he leaned back in the chair and half drug her into his lap. She was stretched over him, prying at his one hand with both of hers, when the realization of what that firm warmth pressing into her stomach was, and her cheeks flooded with color and heat. She let go, and pulled back, one hand on his bent knee. His free hand caught her retreating one and hauled her back up onto his chest with an indignant squeak, and he held the panties in his fist to his nose and inhaled deeply, then rumbled softly, obscenely,

"Mmmm..."

"Tsk, they're clean!"

She scoffed, brushing aside the pleasant thrill that shot through her, and plucked the panties from his hand, then wrenched her wrist free as well. He let her slump to the floor, where she tossed the underwear into the pile on the floor then moved up to sit on the end of the bed where his feet had been, looking at him. He grinned at her, the goggles flashing reflective as he sat up straight in the chair and dangled the bra from his fingertip.

"What about this?"

"Keep it if you want. Hang it on your bedpost or sleep with it under your pillow."

She smirked back at him, matching the grin on his lips with one of her own, as she leaned back on her elbows and crossed one leg over the other. Riddick grunted and stood up so suddenly that she flinched and pulled back on the bed, alarmed, but he simply walked past her and dropped the bra on the floor as he moved to the ladder.
She rolled to her hip to look at him, and draped her arm along her side as she pondered his abrupt attitude changes. He seemed to get more comfortable with her, joking and smiling like a human being, but always drew up sharply like he caught himself doing something he shouldn't be. Perhaps that was exactly it, and the simplest explanation was the truth.

"I'm setting autopilot for the next few hours. Don't fuck with the bridge."

At his curt words, she understood them to mean that he was going to his bunk for some sleep. Or maybe a wank. She lofted a raven brow at him, and ticked off a short salute in reply. He stared at her for a minute, then nodded, and disappeared up into the corridor.


A few hours had trickled past, and she'd given up on sleep for the moment. She'd spent some time trying on her new clothing before the scratched little mirror in her bunk, but that grew old quite quickly. She perched on the edge of her bed dressed in a snug little top and a pair of billowy pants, staring at her bare feet. Toes twiddled, and she came to the conclusion that she was bored. And a bored Revelle often led to trouble. She sighed, then stood to stretch and pad to the ladder. Cool against her bare soles, the metal rungs bit at the bottoms of her feet, as did the hard edges of the terra steel flooring in the corridor.

She moved on silent cat's feet along the dim corridor by the running lights on the floor toward the bridge, looking up the stairs to see the doors closed, and cast a long look at the similarly closed door of the captain's quarters.

Another faint sigh, and she turned her quiet walk around, pacing the length of the ship back down to the cargo bay to recheck the empty crates for anything she might have missed, and leaned against them for a moment, wondering how she'd forgotten to purchase anything for entertainment value, like reading material or such.

Wracking her brain for something to stave off the boredom, she decided to pay another visit to the privy, and this time stay a little while longer, lingering under the hot water while she didn't have to worry about sharing it with anyone else. Darting back to her bunk for soaps and shampoos, she was humming quietly to herself as her hand fell on the privy door, but it was only when she pushed it open that she realized that water was running in the dark.

A cramp of unease slid through her belly, unnerved by the wrongness of the sound. It was eerie to her, hollow and foreboding for some odd reason, like some ghoul or disembodied soul showered within. She knew very well it was only Riddick, but as far as beasts of the night went he was one of the more frightening. At least with him skulking around there'd be no room for ghosts to move in. Suddenly the thought occurred to her that Riddick was actually in there, showering under that running water. All hard muscles and slick, soapy skin... Lust clenched in her belly and she bit her lower lip at the thought.

A moment's pause outside the door, then she set her jaw. Determination kicked in, and she toed the door the rest of the way open. A sliver of light fell to illuminate the corner of the room, showing her where the entrance to the showers lay, before she stepped through and the light closed behind her to throw the room back to it's complete darkness. The running water didn't stop, and she could hear no other noises in the blackness.

Hesitating for a few moments to gather her courage, fighting the unease in her belly that was trying to talk her out of what she was about to do, she carried the bottles of shampoo and soap in one hand, trailing the other lightly along the outer wall of the showers to find her way to the entrance without tripping.

Her heart hammered loudly when she stepped slowly down into the tiled floor of the double shower, and she knew that he could see her clearly from where he showered from the left spigot. As she moved toward the right one as calmly as if he wasn't there, she could hear the sound of the water falling unevenly, hitting the tiled floor in unsmooth splashes that told her undoubtedly that he was there.

Setting the bottles on the cool floor, along the wall so she wouldn't step on them, she turned purposefully toward him, her open but unseeing eyes searching for any sign of motion in the darkness, and began to strip. Hooking her thumbs in her waistband, she slid her sleeping pants down over her hips and stepped out of the puddle they formed, then crossed her arms before her and pulled the little tube top off over her head. She dropped it by her pants, then felt for the handles of her shower to crank on the water. Cool air moved across her nude body as she adjusted the water flow to her desired temperature, but she never got the chance to move under it.

A split second before his hands closed over her hip bones, she felt the heat of his body, the air moving as he came towards her. He pulled her hips roughly back against him, and she found her whole back pressed against the warm, wet length of him, as one of his hands left her hip to snake across her belly, drawing tight to cinch her even closer while the other crossed her breasts to curl around her throat. She clearly felt every hard, wet, warm inch of him as she gasped softly, his breath pushed hotly against her ear.

"What are you doing, little girl?"

A shiver raced through her body, prickling goose bumps along her flesh and hardening her nipples into eager peaks straining for attention. She shifted pleasantly under his firm hands, lifting her own to stroke along his muscular arms, and pressed back against him with a sensual roll to her hips. Her body language clearly stated her intent, but she breathed a reply anyway,

"Whatever you want me to do..."

Riddick grunted softly, sending another little shiver up her spine, and she tightened her fingers on his thick wrists before pushing back against him again, insistent and slow so that she could not fail to cause a reaction. She was pleased to discover that he was still human enough to have garnered a response.

"Foolish. You're playing a dangerous game."

He growled, and drug his teeth along her neck, then bit down into the flesh, none too gently. She cried out softly and arched against him, moving against hands that held her tightly. His fingertips firmed slightly upon her throat, feeling the vibration of her voice and breathing beneath them, then slid lower to cup a breast and toy with the aching pebble straining greedily for attention. She made another sound of pleasure and moved slowly against him, while his tongue found the bruised spot on her neck and massaged it roughly, before working around to her throat.

He grew impatient, and spun her around to face him, then goose-stepped her backwards until her shoulder blades connected with the cold tile, hard enough to force a gasp from her lips.

His mouth fell upon her throat, lips moving hungrily over the pulse of her lifeblood as he forced her hands above her head and pinned both wrists to the wall with one hard fist. She moaned softly, the flare of desire in her loins flashing up to fill her belly with aching heat, and as he crushed his body against her, pushing her into the cold wall, she parted her knees to welcome him. His other hand sought her backside, and as she lifted that leg to curl around his, he grabbed an ass cheek and hauled her off her feet. His hips pinned her, and she wrapped herself around him with a low little cry. An answering growl rumbled through his chest to hers, and she squirmed against him desperately, eager to match her heat with his.

"Fuck..."

He growled hotly against her flesh, his hand digging five hard bruises into her thigh, then tilted his head to drag his teeth along her neck. She moaned again, jerking her hips against the almost painful dig of his erection in an effort to guide it where she wanted it, and he complied in a hot pant of air against her skin by shifting her just so... and sliding into her with an exhilarating rush that took her breath away. He didn't give her time to recover, instead clenched her tighter as he drew out with agonizing slowness, then slammed back into her hard enough to knock her head on the tiles. She bit her lip, hard enough to break the skin, as he rammed into her again and again, then simply let loose and cried out with each thrust. He seemed to grow more eager at this, and the tempo increased slightly, while he sunk his teeth into the side of her neck.

Shaken like a ragdoll, unable to do naught but grip him with her weak legs, her head spun with the giddy heights of pleasure mingled with pain, terror dashed with the thrill of ecstasy. He thrust wildly into her, mindless and animalistic, uncaring of anything but using her to her full extent. She knew this, and it sent her over the brink into a wild tangle of orgasm. He rutted against her until completion, his rhythm slowing until he simply leaned against her, his hand releasing her wrists to support himself against the wall.

She clung to him, nearly sobbing as she gasped for breath, and curled her arms around his neck to keep him tightly against her. His breathing rasped in her ear, and she became once more aware of the slick feel of his hard body against her own, their skin dampened by shower water and sweat from their exertions, and the throbbing heat that pressed into her loins. Another wave of desire clenched her stomach, and she shivered against him and pressed her lips to his temple as she whispered,

"Did I please you?"

He made a low noise that tickled her skin from the vibration, then leaned back and pulled her away from the wall with him, his hands cupping her ass cheeks as he carried her under the still running water. The heat of the water met her back, then crossed over her head and slid down between them. He lingered a moment, holding her until they were both thoroughly saturated, then brushed his mouth across her own as he released her to her own feet.

She made a noise of complaint, but he stilled it as he cupped a breast and rolled the nipple with his thumb to garner her full attention. He grunted, rumbling deep in his chest, then removed his hands from her,

"Yeess... You were pleasing, slut-girl."

She was elated, giddy with the knowledge that she could finally be of use and sate her own desires at the same time, and also rather relieved that he'd proven to be possessed of desires of his own. It sent a shiver down her spine to think that she might be the object of that desire. Her livelihood was her body and the pleasure she could produce with it. It was what she'd been schooled, sculpted, trained and taught since even before puberty. All her interactions with men had been of a sexual nature, or led to it, and she moved through her life forever in that frame of mind.

Whether Riddick would use her or not had not mattered when she was purchasing her clothing. Whether she would belong to him or another in the future, her bout of freedom in escaping with Riddick did not suppress her nature. She was a concubine, a consort of the highest worth, and would be expected to dress the part. Her tattoo would forever mark her as such. As it was, she'd prepared herself for her new life with a full wardrobe of pretty lacy things men loved to unwrap her from.

A silly, sated smile on lips in the darkness, she basked in the warm afterglow of intercourse, her dark head tilted back under the spray of hot water. There was no need to say anything to each other, she was content to finish her shower and retire to his bed with damp skin to explore his prowess further. So encumbering was the haze over her happy brain that it was a full ten minutes before she realized she was alone.


She spent a rather restless night tossing and turning upon her bed, which would have been more than comfortable disregarding the circumstances. A war was being waged - against two separate spectrums of herself. Her consort's instincts told her that Riddick had behaved exactly as she'd thought he would... a starving animal would at first shy away from food, distrusting... but eventually hunger would draw it in, it would mindlessly devour what was placed before it, then it would retreat. So why were tears pricking the corners of her eyes, while her heart ached uncomfortably? She knew she shouldn't be hurt by his actions... in fact she should be elated that he had allowed her so close to him.

At the very core of her self debate lay the honest truth. She was attracted to him in the worst way, more than she'd ever been to any of her Owners, lovers or conquests, in manner that she found dangerously close to affection and growing fondness. Like some Serial Planet schoolgirl, she was harboring a crush on the man who had twice saved her life, swept her up in peril, and now fled with her. The fact that he allowed her along, to say nothing of the purchase of a bigger ship and clothing to accommodate her needs when it surely slowed him down, spoke volumes to her. He was a solitary creature, slowly becoming acclimated to her presence. She wondered how long it would last.


He was hunkered in the galley when she entered it the next morning, slouched in a chair and hunched over a bowl of something unrecognizable in the dim lighting, scooping it into his mouth with a bent spoon. His reflective eyes flashed at her when she walked past the table to the cupboards on the other side, but she didn't look at him.

Playing cooly nonchalant as she prepared her breakfast with her back to him, she steeled herself to talk to him. Her voice feigned disinterest, she asked,

"Are you still hungry? I'll make you something to eat, if you want..."

Silence met her question, and she turned to look at him only to find his seat vacated. He'd done it to her again, sulked off as silent as smoke to avoid talking to her. Well, two could play that game, she thought to herself as she sank to a seat with a mug of tea in her hands. Frustration made her pull a face at the empty doorway, then she sighed and propped her chin in her palm. Movement made her glance back up, and she jumped, startled to find him leaning against the metal jamb, and sloshed hot tea into her lap.

"Damn! Look what you made me do!"

She hissed, forgetting her previous compulsion of ignoring him, and daubed at the spot with a rag lying on the tabletop. Tsking to herself, she looked back up at him, the hem of her shirt held out from her body. He was regarding her blandly, his face devoid of expression. She sighed and made an impatient, expectant gesture with her hands, waiting for him to say something.

"Strap in. We have to jump."

He said quietly, then disappeared back into the gloom in the corridor. Her heart stuttered at the implication of his words, and the copious lack of an explanation. They'd been found, again.

It was so unnerving being chased, she griped to herself as she slapped the cupboard door closed and tossed her half empty mug into the bin below the sink and slid it closed. More than anything she just wanted to hide long enough to relax and not have to watch her back every moment. As she hit the corridor and ran down it's length by the faint throb of the running lights, she wondered how bad it must be for Riddick if she was bitching about this life he'd been living for years when she'd only been at it about a week.

He didn't look around at her, as usual, when she climbed up the steps to the bridge and slid into a seat. Concentrating on fitting the webbing and straps around her frame and buckling herself in, she didn't notice the look he sent her way, waiting until she was finished before yanking down three successive handles from over his head and sliding forward a center console to reveal a series of toggles. She looked up just in time to see him snap the middle one over before the world turned inside out.

Colors shifted and swirled, coalescing starlight and spacedust across the curved surface of the viewscreen to warp and bend beyond comprehension for eons, for milliseconds. Her brain had time to contemplate the stretch of the ages while it sent the neurons pulsing to blink her eyelids, when her lashes shuttered and opened the ship scuttered back to reality like a stone skipping across a smooth pond, skipping back down to normal operations within range of a large grey-blue planet with heavy cloud cover shrouding it. Several small moons skirted its girth in orbit, clustered together in small groups here and there.

Revelle pushed her hair back from her face and swiveled her chair to watch the planet approach and slide around the starboard side as Riddick swept the craft around to the dark side. She flicked a glance at him, then over his shoulder to the display lit up on the panel before him. Her fingers were reaching for the release on her harness when he spoke, interrupting her intent.

"Stay where you are."

"What are we -"

"Landing."

"Oh..."

She replied, looking at him curiously. He gripped the helm with both hands, guiding the ship through the illumunation of the distant sun and into the planet's shadow. After a moment, when they drew closer to the atmosphere, he continued, surprising her with the extent of his speech.

"This is a class F planet I found years ago, been keeping it on reserve for the next time I needed to lay low. Breathable air, cold but temperate climate. Zero visibility. The clouds cover the entire planet. Oceans, mountain ranges, the entire atmo filled with fog that never clears. Called Lanai Secular."

It was her turn to make a noncommittal sound as reply, slightly arching one eyebrow in faint amusement at his back. She folded her hands in her lap and leaned back in the jumpseat to watch him manipulate the controls as they skudded down through the clouds. He handled them deftly, and as they broke through the thickest layer of clouds clotting the atmo the haze was thinner, soupier, but even darker than it had been in the clouds. Because we're on the dark side, of course, she thought to herself, and wondered how much visibility there would be once the sun crept across their side.

Riddick brought the craft down closer to the surface, still unseen under a blanket of fog, so that it seemed that they were skimming over a vast grey sea vaugely lighter than the thinner area they flew in. He kept his ungoggled gaze on the display, which moved to track their progress and reveal the terrain, while she looked beyond him out the damp view screen. Condensation was building up on the smooth, transparent surface of the screen in beads and rolling off from the force of the wind. As they banked and plunged suddenly down into a shrouded canyon,

Riddick asked,

"Do you know how to fly, Revelle?"

She looked at his back, apprehensive.

"No."

He didn't respond, instead concentrating on landing the craft. She'd not been paying attention to the display, and hadn't watched where he'd chosen to set them down. A sudden thought occured to her as she watched him go through the procedures to shut the engines down.

"Riddick... is this planet inhabited? I mean, what lives here? People, animals, vegetation?"

He powered down the last turbine, waiting until it finished it's whine and the interior lights dimmed even further, before unbuckling himself and turning in his chair. She followed suit, fumbling free her harness to follow as he stood up and walked past her.

"It is, sparsely. There are a few mining camps on the other side. This rock doesn't orbit the sun like higher classes, even if it is inhabitable. It's axis is horizontal, so even though it spins, this side never sees the light. The ore they mine is reactive with the gamma rays of the sun, which causes it release a gas which fills the atmo. A mixture of oxygen and carbon dioxide... perfect breathing air for humans, that is."

She followed him down the corridor as he spoke, haunting his steps as he turned and jaunted down the stairs to the catwalk that fed into the cargo bay. He halted by the bay door and turned to look her over.

"If you want to go with me, you'll need your cloak. Get mine, too."

She nodded and turned away without a thought, and was digging them out of the locker under the stairs while he was strapping assorted deadly weapons on his person. His in hand, hers draped over her arm, she held it out to him only to have it traded with a gun across her palm.

"What's this for?"

She asked, looking at it mistrustfully. He draped his cloak over his shoulders and flipped up the hood, eyes glinting in the darkness like some animal in a cave, his chuckle drifting out like a warning growl.

"I can't protect you all the time. Keep it close. Just don't shoot me."

She laughed nervously, then decided he wasn't joking with her and shoved it inside the waistband of her pants and slid into her own cloak. Twisting her thick hair into a knot at the base of her neck, she patted her pockets absently, looking around. Riddick fitted his goggles around his head, resting them with a snap on his brow, and looked at her sidelong.

"What are you looking for?"

"Um, a pen or something. To stick through my hair and hold it back. I thought I had a stylus in my pocket..."

She trailed off as Riddick reached behind her and picked something up. As she turned to see what he was doing, he slammed a screwdriver against a hard corner of the door and snapped the handle from the shaft, then twirled it in his fingers and tucked it in her hand as he turned back around to punch the unlock code into the door's
interface. She stared at it increduously for a moment, then shrugged and stuck it through her hair before lifting her own hood and falling in behind him.

The mist swirled in around them as he popped the door open and it slid back in its recessed track. Fog swam in to wrap them in wispy tendrils, plucking with chilly fingers at the hems of their cloaks, and the darkness seemed muffled beyond the little bit of area she could see over Riddick's shoulder. This new perception made her pause, wondering if being around him and his somewhat forced removal of one of her primary senses was starting to heighten the rest of them. It was only as she stepped down from the ship that she realised the aft end of the craft was backed into a cave.

The fog sucked in around her, the moisture in it already seeping through the thick fabric of the cloak, and she suddenly felt very disorientated. In just a few steps, the bulk of the ship had become obscured, and she'd lost sight of Riddick.

"Ridd-"

She called out to him as loud as she dared, a sotto voce question interrupted by something brushing against her leg, so that she finished with a whisper,

"-ick...?"

Silence greeted her, and she swallowed nervously as she peered around through the fog and reached out tenetive fingers to feel for the hull of the ship, the wall of the cave, Riddick... anything. Except maybe what had grazed past her. Her fingertips hit something, and as she sucked in a breath and snatched her hand back Riddick loomed forward from the fog and clamped a rough hand on her shoulder as he steered her around with it, speaking low.

"Shh... back in the ship. There's something else here."

He fell silent and still, holding her in place rather than guiding her toward the ship. She came very close to giving an exasperated sigh and shaking him off of her, when she realized he was looking at something in the fog. He released her arm and turned away from her, and she grabbed the back of his cloak as she heard a low growl somewhere ahead of them. Her fingers tightened, her heart clenching with unease when another growl sounded, it wasn't until the second time she heard it that she realised it came from Riddick.

A long moment passed, thick with silence, before she felt him loosen a little. She was loathe to release the handfuls of his cloak, comforted by the tension of a strong frame under her fingers as he stood between her and whatever beastie lurked in the gloom. Squeezing her fingers a little tighter, she asked quietly,

"What was it?"

"Rock cats. We parked on one of their backdoors. They won't bother us again. Come on."

Not knowing where they were going, she was reluctant to let go of the back of his cloak... but after a few goosesteps behind him, she relenquished one handful but kept ahold of a gathered grip in the middle of his back.

While she was wondering whether or not he was irritated by her clinging to him like a monkey, he smiled privately, enjoying the feel of her slender hand drawing from his strength. It felt good to have something to protect other than his own neck.

She tagged along behind him, one hand maintaining ahold of him as she picked her way carefully through the slick rocks and rubble, for several quiet minutes with the fog blanketing each step. After some time, she tugged gently on his cloak and whispered, her breath pluming the words.

"Where are we going?"

He fell still, one foot propped on a rock, and left her watching the back of his hood expectantly. She could feel him breathing with the hand on his back, and the way he held so still suddenly struck a chord of fear in her once more. He was listening to something in the fog, there was something out there! Her heart gave four thunderous beats, each as slow as time itself, before he shrugged slightly, and turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, the hood obscuring almost all of his face. He wore a faint smile, as if he'd known her momentary fear.

"To a supply cache I left here."

"Oh. Where is it?"

He was silent, but she could tell he was looking at her, even if the fog did shroud the light and prevent his revealing eyeshine. He reached around and snagged her arm by the fabric of her cloak, leading her forward by her elbow to place her hand on something inches away from his bent knee. She released his cloak with her other hand and put it on the edge of the crate, turning to lean her ass against it as she grinned up at him.

"Look, I found it."

He returned her playful smile with a blank expression, absorbing her wit in sedate study of her face as if he lacked comprehension of her joke. The smile faded from her lips seeing the look on his face, and she straightened up. He produced a crowbar from inside his cloak, presumably from some belt about his waist, and spun it deftly in his hands before notching the end of it between the boards and prying off the crate's lid in three hard levers. She leaned over to peer into it as he shoved aside the packing contents, some dry, fiberous filler meant to buffer the goods inside, and he fished out a large, lumpy bag by a strap.

"Good. Now you can help me carry it back. Come here."

He motioned at her with the bag, then draped it over her head and right shoulder. She grunted in surprise at the weight of it, and staggered to one side before grabbing the crate for support.

"What the hell is in here?"

She asked, adjusting the strap and moving the bag around to her hip as Riddick dug through the crate again and pulled out two more similar bags, draping them in turn on her left shoulder and around her neck. Bracing herself with a moan of complaint, he flicked an amused glance at her as he rummaged deeper through the crate and slung the remaining five bags around his own shoulders. They looked bigger than her own, and certainly heavier, but he showed no effects of the weight, when she would have figured each of her own bags weighing in at thirty or forty pounds.

"Guess you'll have to wait until we get back to the ship."

He tossed the crowbar into the empty crate as he spoke, then started back the way they'd come. She panted, trying to keep up, but held her silence, unwilling to complain about the meger load she bore. The chilly air wafting around them still shrouded everything her naked eye could see, and the bulky mass of the bags they carried prohibited her from reaching out to keep ahold of him, so she struggled to match his pace.

After an indeterminable length of time, it felt like hours and she was tiring quickly, feeling all hot and sweaty under the now oppressive weight of the thick cloak and the bags, she mis-stepped in her hurry to keep pace with Riddick and rolled her ankle. With a hoarse cry of pain and surprise, she went down, landing only slightly less painfully on her hands and knees, the bags digging into her sides and her ankle singing in pain.

She gasped for breath, trying to recover and get back up, and looked up to see Riddick's blurry form disappearing in the mist as if he hadn't heard her. Gritting her teeth, she peeled the bags from her shoulders and leaned forward to inspect her throbbing ankle as she called out to him, fighting to keep the note of panic from her voice.

"Riddick!"

Silence greeted her, and her ankle flared with pain as she rotated it experimentally. Slowly now the other places she'd barked upon her fall were beginning to complain as well, the heels of her hands and her kneecaps, mainly.
"Damnit..."

She cursed quietly, and fought to rise to her good leg, only to trip and stumble over one of the bags and land once more on the rocky ground with a pained whimper.

A chuckle from above startled her, and she choked on the welling lump of pain and frustration in her throat to find Riddick standing above her, sans his baggage. He squatted down, wrapping his hand in one of the straps of her dropped bags, and spoke in a quietly mocking tone.

"Aw. Did you fall down?"

"Don't be an asshole. I think my ankle might be broken. Thanks for stopping to make sure I was okay..."

She retorted, then trailed off accusingly. He said nothing, but stood up with her bags in his hands, then turned to throw them in the direction he'd continued in. She heard them fall some distance away, then blinked in surprise, protesting weakly as he stooped shortly to slide an arm around her shoulders and haul her upright, then scooped her against him with his other arm picking up her knees. She made a face up at him, then sighed and relaxed in his grip, letting him carry her.

"Thanks for the lift..."

He merely grunted in reply as he arrived at the hull of the ship and stepped over the bags on the ground to take her inside and deposit her on the bottom step of the stairs leading up to the catwalk, but she caught the cursory flick of his silvery eyes in the dim lighting as he looked her over. He moved back to the open hatch, his step
deceptively light and stealthy, to retreive the last three bags, slinging them inside the door as she concentrated on setting her foot down comfortably. Unable to find a painless position, she pulled herself to her one good foot and hopped around, holding onto the railing on either side for support as she took a great leap and jumped up one step. The sound was abrasive, her heavy boot clanging on the metal grating, but her sharp gasp when she smacked her sore foot on the step was louder.

She swore, biting her lower lip as she hung her head, gripping the railing so tightly in her fists that her knuckles turned white as she rode the wave of pain. Then she exploded, a culmination of frustration, exhaustion and pain, and threw herself a fit right there on the second step. She ripped the hood back then yanked the cloak off over her head, getting caught halfway up on the broken screwdriver pinning her hair up and tussling it from her body, tossing it to her feet with a small scream of defeat. She pressed her face into her hands, trying to calm herself, hitching breath threatening to degenerate into tears.

A soft chuckle brought her attention up from her cupped hands, and she looked through her fingers at Riddick leaning on the railing by his forearms, standing on the opposite side of the railing, on the floor. His goggles rested on his forehead, and he wore a faintly amused smirk on his chiseled lips.

"Where can I get hair like that?"

He asked dryly, clearly fighting to keep from all out smiling as he stared at the frizzy pouf of raven curls standing out in a blazing crown around her head. She gave a shaky laugh and palmed her hair to try and smooth it, but it leapt back up anyway, an effect of the moisture dousing they'd both recieved due to the fog.

"You don't want it. It's got enough of a mind of it's own it could almost get me up these damn stairs."

She sighed and looked up at them, the sheer scale of them overwhelming.

"Almost."

She turned a significant expression back to him, and fluttered her lashes in mock flirtation. He gave a small grunt of amusement, but didn't move.

"Can you at least help me get this boot off? I don't think it's broken, but it fucking hurts... I think it's starting to swell..."

He came to the bottom of the stairs, kicking aside the cloak she'd thrown down, and bent over silently. She swept her hair from her face again, clearing her vison just as his hands went not to her foot, but to her waist, and he slung her over his shoulder with apparent ease and a little scream on her part. She wasn't quite sure what to think about him hauling her around like a sack of rations, but she wasn't going to complain too much about it, for she liked the feel of his strong muscles supporting her, his arm curled around her waist as he held her in place.

The open hatch at the top of the stairs swung open fully when he toed it before him, then stepped through with her and trod down the corridor. He didn't pause before his bunk nor hers, but moved through to the lounge and dropped her abruptly onto one of the low couches. As she fell her intial worry was about bumping her foot on the ground, and she scrabbled at his bare upper arm in panic. He slid free, but caught her calf in his other hand and held her leg up as she toppled onto her ass then back to her elbows.

He pushed the cuff of her pants up and circled her shin with his fingers, then eased the boot over her heel with surprising gentleness. She lay on her back, content to let him pry it off, but he twisted her ankle ever so slightly and she shot upright with a hiss of pain, looking through her hair up at him with those wide, dark blue eyes.

"That really hurts..."

He peeled her sock off, holding her heel gingerly in his fingertips like he was working some precise mechanism, and rotated the joint experimentally. The skin was purple and swollen, angry looking as the flash of pain spiked up her leg. She whimpered softly, biting her lips, trying to find the center of the hurt and push it down, draw it away from her so he wouldn't think she was overacting, putting up a "damsel in distress" display just to try and win some sympathy.

"I don't think it's broken... can we just get some bandages and wrap it up tight?"

She slid her gaze, worried at the hue of her ankle, up to him as he spoke abruptly.

"It's broken."

He turned away from her, setting her leg down, and she held it off the floor, staring at his back, astonished. It really did hurt, but she thought it was simply her own mind over-reacting to the pain... she almost asked him if he was sure, but he was already returning from the kitchen area with a little med-kit.

"It will help to wrap it, and put ice on it."

"And then what?"

She asked, even as terror slammed her heart into gear roughly. She knew very well what... They'd have to risk exposure in order to get it taken care of, and if it was broken there was certainly no way they'd be able to avoid it.

"We'll deal with that later."

Riddick bounced the rolled up bandage into her lap and went to the kitchen, this time back again with a handful of ice folded into a towel. He dropped the little bundle into her lap and continued back past her down the corridor to the stairwell. Apparently his tendering level had been maxed, and there would be no more nursemaid service. She pouted for a moment as he disappeared down the steps, then scooted herself back further on the couch so she could wrap her foot.

After a few minutes fighting with her pant leg, trying to keep it rolled up out of the way and able to work around it, she made an exasperated noise and leaned back on her shoulderblades, shucking her pants down her hips and past her knees, then pulling each leg off, carefully over her injured ankle. Easier now, she wrapped the swollen joint in the bandage and stacked a few pillows under the calf to elevate her foot as she laid back on the sofa.

When Riddick came back up the stairs with two of the bags slung over his back, his eye fell on the lithe length of bare legs stretched out on the sofa, the girl with nothing on but her sweater and that curly mop of hair with her foot propped up and bound, her sparkling blue gaze that slid lazily over to him then moved curiously to the bags. She smiled faintly at him and curled an arm under her head, craning her neck to look at him better.

"So, what did I break my bones to salvage? Anything fun in those bags for me?"

She asked, her tone lightly teasing as she eyed him. He dropped them both heavily beside her and continued pulled a slim case from his pants pocket, then flipped it into her lap. She caught it and opened it expectantly, only to look up at him in confusion over the vials and hypodermic needle.

"This doesn't look very fun..."

"Painkiller. It's not going to hurt any less, and it needs to be set. Half a syringe should be enough for now."

He hunkered over the bags, his movements so naturally fluid and swift that she twitched in surprise, then recovered to stare slightly agape at him. He seemed to be pointedly ignoring her, concentrating on rifling through one of the bags. She swallowed nervously and pried the barrel of the syringe out of the case, studying the marks on the cylinder and the beveled point of the needle's tip through its clear cap. She tried to imagine herself sticking it under her skin and depressing the plunger to send the stuff into her muscle, or even worse, directly into a vein.

Shuddering, she couldn't. Wetting her lips, she looked over at Riddick, who had paused in his rummaging, squatted down on his heels over the bag, to watch her.

"Um... Could you do it?"

He blinked impassivly, once, then took the case from her hands and readied the syringe. She made a face, but hid it with her hands, unable to look at the needle glinting wetly as he removed the air bubbles. She flinched and lowered her hands, slowly, as she felt his palm warm the skin of her bare thigh, ulitmately distracted by the trail his thumb moved in as he slid his hand up her hip, pushing her sweater up and tracing a dangerous line along the string of her panties. She had just wet her lips and slitted a gaze through her lashes at him when he stuck the needle in her hip, stabbing into the soft, fleshy side of her ass to inject the medicine and withdrawing just as swiftly, giving her enough time to gasp and belatedly jerk away from him, in turn jostling her ankle and turning her gasp into a whimper of pain.

Riddick wore a faint smirk as he slotted away the syringe and closed the case, setting it with easy precision on the other couch as he ignored her complaints while she got herself situated again. He threw himself beside the case, kicking out his long legs and drawing one of the bags into his lap, then nudged her elbow with his booted toe. She bit back a groan and turned a grimace to him, laying her head back on the cushions and dragging a hand down her face.

"What?"

She asked, irritated. He showed her a toothy sort of grin, spread slowly across his face. It never reached his reflective eyes, which he flicked along her length.

"Show me your neck."

"What?"

She repeated, confused. It took her a moment to realise that he wasn't looking at the stinging little welt on her hip, but the five dark strokes of bruise striping her pale skin. It might have been the painkiller kicking in, but she felt a flush of pleasure wash through her, and he growled softly.

"Do what I said."

A silly little grin playing on her lips, she hooked her fingers into the collar of her sweater.