22. Jack: Unrequited

"Not appropriate." The words had struck at Jack like an indictment.

She'd cleared the table in a huge rush and retreated to her room as quickly as she could manage. Now she flung herself down on her bed, choking on that one devastating phrase.

Stupid! she thought, her eyes stinging. I'm so fucking stupid...

At least, she consoled herself, he didn't realize the move had been intentional. She'd managed to play dumb fast enough, the moment she'd seen the censure in his gaze. She'd learned long, long ago how to strike exactly the right sort of "who-me?" pose of confused innocence to fool even the most suspicious of cops. It had come in useful on numerous occasions back in her street-urchin days.

She'd never thought she'd be using it on Riddick. For one thing, she'd always figured he'd see right through it. But he'd bought it. Thank God, he'd bought it.

She couldn't have stood it if he'd realized what she'd been trying to do when he rebuffed her. She couldn't have taken the look of pity that would have followed.

Back at the shelter the other girls had believed that she'd been his sex toy. They'd whispered, when they thought she wasn't around to hear, about how she must have traded her "services" to him in exchange for his protection. They'd speculated extensively on what sorts of things he'd made her do. At the time, she'd eavesdropped out of amused, purely intellectual curiosity. Some of the acts they'd come up with had been extremely inventive. A few, she was sure, were physically impossible.

One girl had actually gotten up the nerve to ask her. She could still remember the answer she'd given, with her head held proudly and a knowing, defiant smile on her face:

"I did everything he wanted me to... and I loved everything he did to me."

Too bad both, in reality, had been a big, fat Nothing.

Face it, "Kid," she told herself sourly. He just LJBF'd you.

The boys she'd hung with in seedy spaceports around the Known Systems had all talked about The Dreaded LJBF, the deadliest four words any girl could say to a guy: "Let's Just Be Friends." She'd never really been able to understand why hearing it would be so painful.

At the time, she'd told herself it was probably a "guy thing," something she would have to pretend to understand for the sake of her masquerade, but never would truly comprehend. Now she knew so much better.

Oh God, did it hurt. He hadn't actually said it, but the unspoken version was every bit as searing.

"The worst part," Ben had commented, a week before she shipped out on the Hunter-Gratzner, "is having to watch her with other guys, knowing that she's just getting taken for a ride... again... and knowing that you could give her so much more if she'd just wake up..."

She dreaded the day Riddick got serious about someone. The day he brought the Love Of His Life home to meet his little kid sister. That would be the day her heart died completely.

She sighed morosely. She'd just have to learn how to hide it better.

The boys had been right, though. Once you knew how you felt about someone, hearing "I love you... as a friend" would never, ever be enough again. She wanted more, much more, but he wouldn't give it to her.

All those clothes... wasted. He hadn't even noticed how she looked. She bet if she pranced around naked in front of him he'd just stand there, shielded by his All-Seasons Riddick Cool, and give her a stern reprimand about how fucking not appropriate it was.

What did I expect? she thought bitterly. I'm just a kid to him. What could I possibly offer him that he couldn't get better elsewhere?

She had almost no experience, after all. What meager experience she did have was limited to such come-hither lessons as "how to hold still and not scream," a lesson she'd learned once and made sure she'd never have to repeat. Riddick was the first -- the only -- man she'd ever wanted. And, ironically, the man she could never have.

What was it she'd wanted him to say about the perfume, anyway? That if she wore it he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of her? Just because that's what her father had always said to her mother...

Stupid. Stupid.

She rolled over, pressing her face against her sheets. Sighing deeply, she tried to let go of the poisonous feelings welling up inside her. God, she hurt so much...

Fuck it, she decided. If he wasn't going to notice the clothes, there was no point in not wearing them. Let him be the only one who didn't notice her, dammit!

Let him try to tell her that they were "not appropriate." Let him tell her why. She was of legal age; if she wanted to wear "fuck-me" clothes it was her own goddamned business.

Not like he was gonna take her up on the offer, anyway.

The ship was powering up. He'd be launching soon. If she felt like being a good little apprentice spacer she should probably go out and sit in the copilot's seat. Maybe she would, if he came and asked her to, but she was too furious right now to face him without that invitation.

She sat up slowly and glanced around the room. She'd put away everything last night; there was nothing that actually needed to be locked down before takeoff. Besides, Riddick was one of the best pilots she'd ever seen. Nothing loose was going to fall anyway.

She lay back down and waited. Finally she felt the press of the planet's increasing gravity on her body. She closed her eyes, pretending that it was him. Imagining that it was the weight of him on top of her and nothing as mundane as escape velocity. If only... if only...

Well, she could still dream.

Finally the pressure abated and she felt a small thrill pass through her stomach as she experienced one fraction of a second of free-fall. Artificial gravity promptly kicked in, but she always loved that moment. It was the way Riddick made her feel.

Damn it, everything kept coming back to him!

She got out of her bed and walked over to the dresser, a mere two steps away, to examine herself in the mirror. She looked okay, no sign of her anguish. Good. She sure as hell didn't want him asking her what was wrong. She felt transparent enough as it was.

Practically in-fucking-visible.

She sighed, glaring into her own eyes. You know that's not true, Jack. He sees you. Not the way you hoped he would. But he sees you. And you know he loves you.

He'd loved her enough to kill people for her sake, after all. On their last day together, Imam had told her what he'd overheard of Riddick and Johns' final exchange before their fatal battle.

"Johns ordered Riddick to kill you, child," the gentle cleric had said. "He wanted to use your body to distract the planet's creatures from the rest of us. I know that Mr. Riddick wanted to kill him anyway, but I believe he did it as much for you as for himself."

She'd been shocked into silent stillnness by the revelation. Imamhad reached out and taken her hand. "That is why I know you will be safe with him, little one. He will never let you come to harm. Go in peace with him, and know that you both will always have a home with me if you need it."

Like a father giving away a bride, she'd thought at the time. Now the irony of that thought rose up to strangle her.

Yes, fourteen of the notches on Riddick's belt were dedicated at least partly to her. He would kill for her, sure, but he was killing for a little girl who had long since grown up into something else that he was blind to.

The soft rap on her door startled her. "Jack?"

"Yeah?" Thank god, her voice sounded normal.

"I'm turning in. Think you can watch the lanes to make sure they stay clear? I'll be back out in a few hours."

"Sure, no problem." She sighed, opening her door after she was sure he'd stepped away from it. Riddick's door was closing as she emerged.

Moving to the cockpit, she deliberately took the seat he'd only just vacated. She would get a little vicarious pleasure, at least, out of the warmth and scent he'd left behind. She paused for a minute to study the course he'd programmed in.

The ship was curving out away from the planet, in a long, elliptical swing. When they came back in, it would appear that they had approached from the Cygnus systems, a hardscrabble part of the frontier. Nobody would expect them to have cargo. They would be returning from a trip of delivering such things to the pioneers, with empty holds and full coffers, ready to stock up again. An excellent cover.

Riddick had already changed the ship's electronic profile. It was now the Singing Swan, an appropriate if somewhat morbid name for a ship doing business in the Cygnus systems.

There was nothing she needed to do except watch for stray space junk crossing their path. The next several hours were going to be dull as hell.

Except... well, here she was, surrounded by his presence, his warmth... and she had said she could still dream, hadn't she?

She didn't close her eyes. She was, after all, on the job. But her mind superimposed other images over the starfield that stretched before her...

She was down in the cargo hold once more, spinning around to confront the possible intruder entering her new Captain's ship, armed with a blackjack. She stumbled and almost fell, dropping the weapon to the floor, when she saw Riddick standing before her, silver eyes glowing in the dim light.

"Not bad reflexes, kid," he growled softly once more, lips twitching into a tiny smile.

She flung herself forward, embracing him tightly. This time he returned her embrace, lifting her off of the floor.

"My god, Riddick, it's so good to see you again. I've missed you so much," she whispered against his shoulder.

"Not as much as I missed you, Babe," he whispered back. "I thought they'd killed you." He held her tightly against him, their bodies pressed together. Off-balance, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He chuckled and lifted her chin up so that they were face to face once more. His lips quirked again slightly before they descended and covered hers.

His kiss was thorough and electrifying, loosing energy throughout her body in great waves as he devoured her mouth. His hand on the small of her back pressed her into him as if he was trying to join their bodies by sheer pressure and force of will.

When he finally released her she was dizzy and needed his support to stand. He lowered her to her feet and led her back until she was against one of the ship's bulkheads. He gently turned her around to face it.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Darlin'," he smiled against her ear. "I just need to make sure you really still are my friend." His hands began moving across her body, ostensibly checking for weapons. But Jack, who had been frisked on no few occasions in her own small-time outlaw days, knew that no cop ever lingered quite the way he did...

His hands stroked their way down her sides to her hips before rising along her belly to her breasts. He pushed gently on each one with the palms of his hands, fingers dancing across the peaks, and laughed softly when she was unable to contain a moan in response.

Dropping back to her waist, his hands slid over to her left leg and began working sensuously down her thigh. At her knee, he let his fingers circle around her leg completely and continue down her calf to her ankle. As his hands rose back upward he pressed them both against the inside of her thigh. For a moment, one palm rested against her mons, cupping it. She was unable to stop her trembling as he repeated the procedure with her right leg.

Rising from his crouch, he pressed his body up against her back and put his arms around her. One hand rested possessively on her stomach, the other on her throat.

"Well, you're definitely not packing, kid, are you? Not even a pocket-knife. Hmm. Gonna have to teach you better habits than that. There's no telling who you might run into in a dark cargo bay." His voice was a sensual purr in her ear. "Still... you could be wired, couldn't you?"

The purr had dropped to a growl, intensifying the shivers wracking her body. He began to pull her clothes off of her, nonchalantly examining each article and running his hands along every inch of skin he'd exposed. He made her face the wall until he'd stripped her completely. Then he turned her around. His eyes passed admiringly over her, lingering on her breasts and her flawless abdomen.

"You sure grew up pretty, Jack," he commented with a rakish grin.

She tilted her head up and fixed his gleaming eyes with hers. "So what's next, a cavity search?"

A look of delight and almost-animalistic hunger dawned on Riddick's face. "What a delicious suggestion, Jack!"

He grasped her thighs in his large hands and lifted her up, pulling her legs around his waist again. She grabbed onto hisshoulders to steady herself. Laughing, he played his fingers through her hair before grasping it and pulling her mouth against his once more. This time his tongue explored every recess and crevice within her mouth.

Finally he released her lips. "No contraband hidden in there. Let's see where else you might keep some..."

He carried her over to the mats by the dojo. Dropping to his knees, he lowered her onto the pads, on her back. With his hands, he kept her thighs spread wide. She watched in eager anticipation as his head dropped down and his lips brushed against--

"Jack."

Her eyes snapped open as a large finger prodded her shoulder. Riddick was standing over her, looking annoyed.

"You have a good nap, sleepy-head?" he asked sarcastically. He nodded toward the front viewscreen she was supposed to be watching.

Heat blossomed on her face. She hoped he thought she was embarrassed over her lapse. The dream had been so intense, so vivid...

"Sorry," she muttered sheepishly, sitting up and scooting out of his chair. "I didn't sleep very well last night."

She saw the muscles of his face twitch subtly in what, for Riddick, passed for a wince. He'd misinterpreted her remark. "You know I had to take him out, Jack. Turns out what he was doing to you and the others at the clinic was only the tip of a very gruesome iceberg. You don't even want to know what else he was doing."

No, I don't, she thought. But I'm glad you think that's why I couldn't sleep. It's a reason you can respect, at least.

The truth, she reflected as she strapped herself into the copilot's chair, was much more pathetic.

Staring out at the approaching planetary sphere in front of them, as they coasted into hailing range of Troubadour's space traffic control, she let her eyes take quick glances at the beautiful, unattainable man working beside her.

I couldn't sleep because I was alone. I couldn't sleep because you weren't holding me. She was careful not to release the grieving sigh lodged in her chest. Riddick would hear it if she did. He might even know what it meant. She couldn't stand it if he discovered her oh-so-pathetic little secret.

I couldn't sleep because I couldn't stop thinking about you.