8. Jack: The Best Meal Of The Day

"Is that really all you have?" Riddick asked, gesturing at her meager pack.

Jack swung her legs out of her bed and began searching the floor for her shoes. "Yeah, well, I used to have a lot of stuff but I sold most of it while I was on New Ecuador. I planned to do a little shopping at Seti Station before we left... jerk."

She heard his snort of laughter and rejoiced inwardly.

"What the fuck did you do with my shoes, anyway?"

"They're by your dresser." He reached down and snagged them for her, handing them over. "You always use such foul language?"

"Shit no, Riddick, I'm a proper fuckin' lady."

"So I see," he chuckled. She followed him out of the bedroom and over to the food prep unit. It was a pretty good model, she noticed. Ought to produce some tasty meals.

"You've got some snazzy equipment," she commented as he began punching buttons.

"Always have," he smirked without looking up. She pretended not to get his meaning. God, she'd missed his sense of humor. Life had been bleak without him there to make fun of it.

"Well, it's nice to know my standard of living's gone up a little. You wouldn't believe the crap I've been eating for the last few months."

"Sure I would," he chuckled. "I've eaten loads worse, kid."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" she challenged. She knew it was true but it had been _too_ long since he'd told her a story. She had this intense urge to roll the last four years back, knock them out of existence. At this moment, her greatest desire was to lose herself in one of his wild, harrowing tales about life on the run.

"You want me to tell you about the most disgusting things I've ever eaten? Over breakfast? Did they replace your intestines with Teflon, Jack?"

For the first time, ever, a reference to her injuries actually made her laugh. He watched her with an odd smile on his face.

"I have _missed_ that sound," he told her.

She wiped at her eyes, suddenly feeling serious. "I've missed having reasons to laugh."

Riddick stepped over to her and crushed her in a swift, fierce hug. They stayed in the embrace, unmoving, until a tone from the food prep machine informed them that breakfast was ready at last.

He released her and pulled out two plates of steaming food, carrying them to the small table. He'd coded in all of her old favorites, she realized with a pang. Scrambled eggs, sausage, grilled pineapple... This was going to be the very best breakfast she'd ever had, she suddenly knew.

At first they ate in complete silence. Jack couldn't decide which part was better, the food or the company, and she couldn't take her eyes off of him. He seemed to be having the same problem, she noticed.

"I warn you," he told her between bites, "most of our meals aren't going to be this good. I just wanted to start things off nice."

"Well I appreciate it," she answered, grinning. "So where are we headed?"

"Gotta drop off a few crates on Troubadour, do a little job there. We'll be there in about a week, and we'll be staying probably ten days." He shrugged, pouring himself some juice.

"A 'little job' takes ten days?" The Riddick she remembered handled "little jobs" in minutes.

"No, but getting you healed up will."

She wasn't at all sure what he meant by that. "Huh?"

"There's a good Regen clinic there," he explained. "I already signed you up. There's something you should know. They lied to you. You've never had a hormonal regulation implant. They only removed one of your ovaries and the other one's been working just fine."

"Those fucking bastards!"

Riddick nodded, watching her closely. "They could have arranged to have your uterus regenerated any time they felt like paying for it. Probably woulda done it if you'd agreed to sell me out, too. Doesn't matter. I can afford it. Kinda figure I owe it to you, anyway. It was my shitheaded mistake that got you plugged in the first place."

Jack sat back for a moment, no longer eating, no longer even seeing Riddick. It was all real, she realized. For the last four years, as her body changed and became more feminine, she'd felt as if it had been taken from her, as if it had become a stranger. She'd always assumed that the artificial regulator was the source of her hips and breasts and the other subtle changes she'd undergone. She'd even contemplated the possibility that the government had deliberately chosen to endow her with a hooker's body because that was what they intended her to become.

But it was _natural._ It was all real. It was _hers!_

"Wow," she whispered after a moment.

Riddick smiled and returned to eating his food.

"Shit, that means I'm gonna start bleeding again, doesn't it?"

"Bet you haven't missed _that,"_ he chuckled.

"I'll bet _you_ haven't missed it either," she retorted.

"You win. You always did turn into a bitch right before you started--" His voice was cut off as a heaping spoonful of scrambled eggs hit his face.

"Asshole," she smirked.

He wiped the eggs off of his face, a feral smile appearing, and then lunged around the table. "Bet you're still ticklish!"

He won again; she was.