Chapter Twenty-eight: Jack - Morning After

"Don't go."

She'd been lying still for half an hour, enjoying his simple presence, when she heard his breathing change. She spoke as she felt his body tense, knowing what was coming.

Riddick froze, then relaxed. "I really should, Jack," he replied softly.

"Why?" She hoped he wasn't going to drag out his not appropriate remark again. He owed her. Yes, she had screwed up in a huge way last night herself, but he still owed her.

"Well, for one thing," he sighed, "my neck has a crick in it now." One of his hands left her back and he reached behind his head, rubbing at the back of his neck. He chuckled after a few seconds. "I'm gettin' soft, kid. Used to be I could sleep in any position and wake up feelin' just fine. Too many cushy beds."

Greatly daring, Jack reached up and slid her hand around to the back of his neck. She couldn't actually see his reaction in the darkness as her fingers began massaging the vertebrae, but she could feel how still he had gone. His fingers brushed hers for a moment and fled, leaving her hand in charge.

Careful, Jack reminded herself. You can't see his face, but he can see yours. Careful, "kid."

She let a wry smile cross her face. "You'll never get soft, Riddick."

He sighed in response and his neck arched back a little against her fingers. "You'd be surprised. How'd you get so talented?"

"There was a girl with a bad back at the shelter. She was one of the few people who didn't treat me like a mutant. She was constantly throwing her back out, or at least she said she was." Jack chuckled slightly at the memory. "I think she may have actually been a lesbian and was hitting on me. That was before the rumors started going around that I was your sex toy. She lost interest fast after that."

Riddick tensed beside her again. "My what?"

Jack frowned slightly. "Well, Jeez, Riddick, what do you think people thought? First of all, your average human being has a very dirty mind."

"Yeah, but--"

"And secondly, nobody thought 'Big Evil' was lugging around some kid because he liked her as a person, you know. They all figured I was paying you with something."

Riddick sighed in exasperation. "Shit."

"Why do you think they called me 'Riddick's Bitch' anyway?"

"They called you what?" He reached back and pulled her hand off of his neck. At least he hadn't stopped holding her yet. He sounded angry, but not at her. He kept hold of her hand.

"Well, it's what they figured I was."

"Christ, kid, you were only fourteen." He sounded disgusted.

She wanted to laugh, but she didn't. It would have been a bitter sound anyway. She'd been eleven when her innocence had been stolen from her, after all. Fourteen, in comparison, felt ancient. It was, she realized, part of the reason that Riddick's continued insistence on treating her like a child grated so much.

"Oh come on, Riddick, you lived in foster homes, yourself. How innocent were the kids in them?"

He sighed. "Point taken. Shit, kid, I knew you had it rough in that place, but I didn't realize--"

"How'd you know?" She figured he'd kept track of her somehow, but she was curious.

"I had a private detective checking in on you. She'd send me pictures of you and information about what you were doing. I got copies of every one of your report cards, you know." He chuckled. "We need to discuss that 'B' you got in Physics sometime."

She laughed back, swatting his chest. He caught her hand. Now he had both in his.

"She never sent me any picture as pretty as the one they had of you in the paper, though," he added softly.

"I don't know when that was taken," she answered, feeling a pang. "I was so careful to keep people from seeing me like that."

"Hiding your feelings behind a lack of expression, huh, kid? Guess I rubbed off on you a little too much."

"I needed it. Those fuckers would have used any weakness I showed against me. Against you." She closed her eyes, resting her head against his shoulder. It had taken a supreme act of will to keep her emotions controlled for those four years, every moment. That picture must have been snapped during one of the times her guard dropped.

"Promise me you'll never hide your feelings from me," he asked her softly after a moment.

I wish I could tell you what I feel, Riddick, she thought with another pang.

"I won't if you won't," she finally answered.

He let go of her hands and tilted her face up. She could only barely make out the outline of his own face in the darkness of her windowless room. "Fair enough," he whispered, and kissed her forehead.

She had no idea what time it was. She still felt pretty wiped out, but that might just be because she hadn't eaten in about twenty-four hours. They should probably get up and do something about that, but she didn't want to move. She didn't want to let go of this moment; there had been too few like it recently.

"So how'd you know I lived in a foster home?" Riddick suddenly asked.

She considered lying for a minute, but she'd already gotten enough shit for that last night. Guess it was confession time.

"I was reading about you at the library. Your old press clippings, you know, that kind of stuff." She shrugged, still feeling a need to downplay her interest as much as she could. "You haven't told me any stories lately, you know."

"Hmm." As usual, his thoughtful noise sounded almost like an animal's growl. It had taken her a while, the first time they were together, to realize that there was no aggression in the sound. "And you lost track of time."

"Well, you're very interesting."

"Only in the tabloids, hon. The truth is some pretty bleak shit." He sighed slightly. "Don't remember all of it too good, myself."

There was a long pause. Finally Riddick spoke again.

"So, you got any questions?"

Jack frowned, thinking. "Yeah. How come you didn't get to the math finals?"

"What, back when I was eleven?"

"Yeah."

"Got sick. Really sick. Day before I was supposed to go to Chicago I started puking my guts out. Didn't stop until after the contest was over. Only time I've ever been sick in my life, too." He laughed wryly. "I was really disappointed. Haven't thought about that in years."

"What happened to you when you were seven?"

Riddick stiffened again slightly. "You mean with the foster home that got closed." His voice had suddenly become guarded.

Jack nodded. She could feel how serious Riddick had suddenly gotten.

"That's a pretty ugly story, Jack. Guess it has a lot to do with why it pisses me off that people thought I molested you the first time we were together."

"You were molested?"

"Nah. Nothing bad happened to me until the day the cops were called. That was the last time I stuck my neck out for anybody until you came along. You and Carolyn." His voice was pensive.

"What happened?" she asked after a long moment.

"I had this foster-sister named Christina. She was kinda wild, nobody could control her too well. Party girl. It wasn't really a foster home as much as a group home. The kids stayed the same, and new sets of parents rotated through every few years. We got this pair of holy rollers about three months before the shit came down."

She heard him swallow and suddenly wished she could see his face.

"They talked God and Jesus at every opportunity. They had this big thing about repentance. Fuck, they oughtta know, I guess. Mr. Holy Roller just couldn't keep his hands off of Christina. I don't blame him for thinking she was gorgeous. She was. But he had no business touching her."

Jack shivered, silently agreeing with Riddick.

"She was only a year younger than you, Jack. Just seventeen. Still figuring out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life and who she wanted to be. Then this fucker came along and started trying to mold her into something he wanted. Tried to make her his toy. And when she couldn't be what he wanted... he got mean."

"How mean?" Jack had a bad feeling that she knew the answer.

"Well, sometimes he was real nice to her, or at least she thought he was. He'd call her his angel and tell her that if she was 'pure' and good for him he'd take her away with him. Sometimes he told her she was a sinner and a whore and he had to 'cleanse' her. Came down to the same thing, however he said it. He wanted her to fuck him, and only him. Guess he could be really charming about it too, 'cuz he sure had her tied in knots over the whole thing. She talked to me about it sometimes. 'Bout how she didn't understand what he wanted her to be but she was trying to be it, and she didn't know what she was doing wrong."

Riddick let out a heavy sigh.

"I think what was really goin' on was he didn't want her to like sex. He wanted this little fallen woman he could redeem from her sinful ways. She'd be pure of heart but still know how to fuck him six ways from Sunday. He wanted to transform her or some shit, so she'd never want any man again 'cept him. Sick stuff. He had no business touching her, and he sure had no business fucking with her mind like that."

His fingers were idly moving through her hair, almost of their own accord, as he spoke. Although his voice was calm, she could feel the emotion beneath his words, buried down deep.

"A person can get fucked up for years by those kinda games, Jack. That's the kind of thing that can knock somebody's mind way off-course until they crash-land somewhere filled with monsters that wanna eat 'em up. If they're lucky -- if they're strong -- maybe they can get themselves back where they're supposed to be. Christina was strong."

He swallowed again and drew her a little closer to him. Jack had the feeling that he'd done so without even knowing.

"She tried to break things off, but how do you get away from your legal guardian? He caught her one night, sneakin' in through my bedroom window. She'd just been out with some friends, maybe having a few beers, but he started yellin' all this shit about how she was goin' to hell and God hated her. He raped her on the floor of my room, right in front of me. That was the first time I ever wanted to kill somebody.

"I got out of bed and grabbed my baseball bat and hit him with it. Didn't hurt him much, of course -- I was only seven. He turned around and smacked me across the room. Next thing I knew I was back on him, biting him anywhere I could reach. All three of us were yellin' by now and the window she'd sneaked in through was still wide open. Mrs. Holy Roller came running in. And you can guess who she blamed the whole mess on. She started beating Christina and screaming some of the craziest shit I've ever heard, even in Slam, and that's saying something. And he started hitting me with my own bat."

Jack closed her eyes, feeling tears leaking through their corners. Riddick paused in his tale to brush them away with his fingers.

"I woke up a week and a half later in the hospital with a fractured skull, a broken arm, and four busted ribs. I guess the neighbors called the cops. I never saw any of them again. Not even Christina. Don't know what happened to her. And that, Darlin', is what happened to me when I was seven."

It took Jack a moment to be able to speak. "I'm so sorry, Riddick."

"No point in that, kid. It's long over. I like to think that Christina made it through just fine. I think she realized that Mr. Holy Roller was the one whose head was full of sick shit, not her. Yeah, she was wild, but she wasn't mean. Nothing wrong with liking to have fun."

He sat up. "Lights to dim."

She watched as he stretched, slowly rolling his head to work the kinks out of his neck.

"And that brings me to the fact that I owe you a huge apology. It's none of my business what you do in your free time, Jack. Doesn't matter if it's losing track of time at the library or out partying harder than Christina ever did. It's still your life."

"Yeah, but I should have paid more attention. I'm sorry, too. Sorry I scared you."

He turned around and smiled gently at her, looking touched. "Thank you, Jack," he whispered.

For a long moment they sat still. Jack was mesmerized by the tenderness in his gleaming eyes. Then his lids dropped and his lips quirked in a sly smile, and the moment was gone.

"Still, I was definitely an asshole to you last night."

She gave him an answering grin. "Yeah, well, Johns said you belonged in the Asshole Hall of Fame."

Riddick let out a gust of silent laughter, shaking his head. "Johns."

It had taken a while for Jack to understand how trivial an opponent Riddick had considered the bounty hunter, despite the fact that Johns was the only one who had successfully captured him since he broke out of the Slam on Nereid. In her own mind, the man loomed almost as menacingly as Riddick did for most people. The first lawman she'd been willing to trust in years, and he'd turned out to be a jackal in a human body.

Johns, the drug addict posing as a cop, who had tried to get Riddick to cut her throat and use her as bait for the things that had been hunting them. Johns, who still haunted her nightmares now and then. Johns, the reason she trusted no one but Riddick himself.

"You okay in there?" Riddick's soft voice pulled her back to reality. She shivered slightly.

"Yeah. Just remembering."

"You give him a lot more credit than he's earned, kid. He never was much of anything. Only reason he caught up with me is I'd just gotten the living shit kicked out of me by a Special Forces platoon, all of whom, incidentally, are now dead. Normally I'd have ghosted his ass the second he got anywhere near me."

He tilted his head, frowning. His neck was still bothering him. He rubbed at it again.

"Let me do that." She crawled over to sit behind him.

"Wha--?" He started to turn around, following her movements.

"Face forward and sit still, Riddick." This time she was in the right position. She reached out and put both hands on the back of his neck. Beneath her fingers she felt him tense up for a few seconds. He relaxed as she began manipulating the vertebrae in his neck once more.

After a moment he sighed. "There is no way you learned how to do that from a lesbian with a bad back, kid."

She grinned. "Shoot, you caught me. My mom taught me how."

"Your mom?"

"Sure. She was a professional masseuse before she met my dad."

"Oh was she?" His voice dropped to a suggestive purr for a second. She let go of his neck and swatted him on the arm.

"Hey! Mind outta the gutter, that's my mom you're talking about. She worked for a health club, not a fuckin' massage parlor."

He caught her hand and moved it back to his neck. "Okay. Sorry. Just don't stop."

"Haven't done this in years," she commented after a moment.

"Well, you're doing wonderfully," he answered. "How come you never told me you could do this?"

"Well, Mister 'I-Can-Dislocate-Any-Joint-In-My-Body,' you never needed any help before."

"Well, now that I know, I'm gonna take advantage of it," he chuckled. But she knew he wouldn't.

That was the problem. He was being so careful about not taking advantage of her. Maybe he was right that she was still just starting out in life, and maybe she was vulnerable to manipulation, like Christina, but she was pretty sure she knew her own mind, knew what she wanted. Him.

No more teases or manipulations, though, she decided. She wasn't sure if he really was impervious to them, or just restraining himself out of principle, but if it was the latter then her behavior was unkind, unfair, and wouldn't help either one of them anyway. She had to admire the irony of it: a felon with a higher sense of honor than most "upstanding citizens."

The whole thing, she realized, only made her want him even more. She'd just have to figure out a way to make him want her, and let him know that it was okay to take what he wanted.

Why the hell is he paying someone to have sex with him, anyway? she suddenly wondered.

Finally he sighed once more and pulled away from her hands. "You hungry, kid?"

"Starved. I haven't eaten in twenty-four hours."

"You forgot to eat? Damn, Jack, I'm not that interesting."

"Sure you are. All the psychology stuff was fascinating." She let him help her up and they headed out into the main room.

"Bunch of psychobabble, in my opinion. They never had a clue what was wrong with me." Riddick went straight to the food prep unit and began punching buttons.

"Really? They didn't? How did they manage to cure it?"

He glanced up, a strange frown on his face. "They didn't."

"It just went away?"

He sighed and sat down at the table. "No, Jack, that didn't happen either. It's all still inside me. I just learned how to control it." For a moment, inexpressible sadness crossed his features and then was gone. "Most of the time. Sometimes it still gets out."

The food prep unit chimed, breaking the silence that had fallen after his words. He gathered their plates and put them on the table. His eyes had not left hers once.

"I'm sorry, Jack. They never cured me. I don't think there is a cure."