31.
Riddick: The View At The Edge
Mornings, Riddick discovered, were getting harder and harder to cope with.
Waking up had become a profound agony for him. He would turn over in bed, reaching for Jack as he woke, only to touch the cold, empty expanse of the mattress beside him. His body ached from her absence. What it had felt whenever she had actually been beside him, though, was even more dangerous.
I have to stay out of her room, he thought ruefully as he stretched. She'd caught him at it last night, after all. She hadn't been afraid, but the very fact that he couldn't tell her why he was in her room told him just how wrong his actions were.
He dragged himself out of bed, dressed, and started breakfast. Jack emerged from her room, yawning and looking extremely tired, as he was carrying plates from the food prep unit to the table. He watched her with growing concern. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and shadowed, as though she'd barely slept at all.
Was she afraid to go back to sleep? he thought with a stab of self-loathing. Afraid I'd come back?
But why, if that was the case, had she smiled at him and asked him for a goodnight kiss? Was there some other reason she'd slept poorly?
Get real, he ordered himself in disgust. She did not spend the night dreaming about you romancing her, you stupid fuck.
"You okay, kid?" he asked as he sat down across from her. The smile she gave him was sweet, if tired.
"Oh, yeah," she answered. "I just... had some very vivid dreams, last night." Her smile was embarrassed.
He almost asked her what they were, but he stopped himself. They weren't about him; they couldn't be. Ask no question you don't want an honest answer to, he reminded himself. And he did not want to know who she dreamed about; who made her blush like that.
He was glad to see that she was at ease with him, though. Her eyes were as calm and trusting as ever when they met his. Neither of them spoke much through the meal, but the strong connection still felt firmly in place between them.
"Got a load of ship maintenance to do today," he told her. Actually, it was only a few hours' worth, but he figured he'd spend as much time explaining to Jack what he was doing as actually doing it. "You get to hand me tools and take notes."
She chuckled at the last bit. "Is there gonna be a test?"
"There's always a test. Eventually," he answered with a grin. "But I wanna be sure you'll do well on it first."
"Isn't that cheating?" The impish gleam was back in her eyes.
"Nah. The 'test' is Real Life, Darlin'. So we're not gonna let you loose on it without a lot of preparation. Even you are not allowed to break my ship, kid. Don't worry, though. You're one of the fastest learners I've ever seen." He took a long drink out of his glass. "Still, I intend to keep the odds stacked in your favor whenever possible."
She smiled and tried to return the compliment. "They always are when I'm with you."
Not true, he thought sadly. I'm eating away at your odds all the time, just like before. The look in her eyes just before they'd been separated, as she clutched at the wound in her abdomen, still haunted him. He'd cost her her luck back then; he'd almost cost her her life.
Her hand was suddenly resting on his cheek. "What is it?" she asked softly.
"Not always," he sighed heavily. "I seem to remember almost getting your ticket canceled a few years ago."
"No, you didn't." Her voice was gentle and surprisingly firm. "I did. You told me to run away if anyone started shooting, but I ran after you instead. It wasn't your fault."
His hand came up to cover hers where it rested against his face. It was a long time before he let go.
The maintenance went extremely well. Jack listened carefully and watched everything he did, asking intelligent questions. Even with the interruptions they were done before dusk. The ship, which Riddick privately called "Whatsername," was in top shape. Once they refueled the deep space drive, they could leave as soon as they snagged a cargo.
And, of course, as soon as he could be sure Jack would be safe from his animal side during the journey.
And there was the hitch.
Once again, she neither protested nor grumbled when he left the ship and headed for the brothel. He wished that the look in her eyes really had been the wistful longing he wanted to imagine it was.
Briefly he considered stopping at the store for another bottle of perfume, but he decided not to. He wanted an explanation of why the last one had been smashed, and assurances that it wouldn't happen again, before he forked out more of that kind of money.
He felt the tension almost as soon as he entered the brothel. Tonia glanced at him and her eyes swiftly darted around the room in search of Barbour. She did not set a drink or key in front of him when he sat down at the bar.
Barbour was in the midst of a conversation with an elegantly-dressed client, but he broke off and headed toward the bar, a look of grim, nervous determination on his plump face. Riddick's own eyes began to dart around the room, memorizing the layout, the locations of the exits, everything. Something was going down.
Finally the little man was standing in front of him, doing his best to look authoritative. "Mr. Fry, I'm terribly sorry. We have a problem."
Leaning back against the bar in a deceptively relaxed pose, Riddick raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I'm afraid that we can no longer accept your patronage at this establishment." Barbour's eyes flicked away from him. Following his gaze, Riddick spotted the large security guards standing around the room on alert. They were expecting him to make trouble, he realized.
And he might. "Care to let me in on why?" he growled. Around them, other regular members of the clientele began drifting away. Tension within the room was escalating. He could smell the nerves of the people around him as they started to fray.
"Mr. Fry, last night you broke the rules, badly. Neither 'Carolyn' nor 'Jack' wish to have anything further to do with you, and under the circumstances we are not willing to offer you the services of any of our other ladies in their place."
"Broke what rules?" He was missing something here, but he couldn't think what.
"Mr. Fry, in your negotiations with 'Jack,' you were informed that you could never ever kiss her on the mouth. You did so last night, twice, and ignored her protests."
Realization struck him with the force of a sledgehammer. How fucking stupid could he be? He'd completely forgotten it. How the hell had that happened, usually he was so careful about things like that...
"We had a safe-word," he protested after a moment, feeling adrift.
"She was too upset to remember what it was!"
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. At the top of the wide, curving stairs, two woman were standing, arm in arm. "Carolyn" and "Jack." They watched him intently, both wearing expressions that told him exactly how unwelcome he was. On "Carolyn's" face scorn and disgust greeted him. "Jack's" expression was one of pure hatred.
No, he was no longer welcome here. He never would be again.
He rose slowly to his feet. Around him the security guards tensed, shifting their positions slightly.
I could take them, an idle part of his mind commented. All of them...
But what the fuck for? He was the one who had screwed up here, not them. The illusion was already shattered. Why should he fight to keep its shards?
You're going out of control, he told himself. If you needed proof of it, this is definitely it. You stupid fuck. Cut your losses and go.
"I understand," he told Barbour after a moment. "Please give both ladies my apologies."
He stepped around the small man and headed back out of the brothel. He walked for several blocks before he realized that he was heading back to the ship.
Just what the fuck happened? he wondered. Am I losing my grip on reality that badly? How did I forget the "no kissing" rule?
Perhaps, he reflected, it was the fact that he'd spent the last few weeks having to forcibly restrain himself from kissing the real Jack on the lips. Every moment he was near her it felt as if his mouth was being inexorably drawn to hers. It had seemed, suddenly, like that was one of the things he needed to engage in when he was with her surrogate. Anything he couldn't do to the real Jack...
He'd fucked up royally.
I'm going to have to come clean, he realized. She has to know what's going on in my head. She needs to be warned. Especially if I can't cut loose anymore...
The ship, when he entered, was completely dark and silent. He was a little surprised, actually; he'd hoped that Jack wouldn't go out at night any more.
Why shouldn't she? he scolded himself. She's a legal adult. Why the hell does she have to stay home while you're out tomcatting?
Still, he couldn't help wishing she was there.
Maybe she just went to sleep early again, he consoled himself.
With that notion in mind, he made as little noise as possible as he moved through the ship. Upstairs, the only illumination in the living quarters came from the small telltales in the cockpit.
Funny how Jack hadn't come to fear the darkness after all that had happened. She'd had her share of nightmares, of course, after they'd left the planet, but when he'd questioned her about them he'd found that they were always about others in the group dying, about her helplessness to save them. The dreams that upset her most of all, he'd discovered, the ones that catapulted her screaming out of bed, were the ones in which he died.
But she never feared the darkness. In fact, she seemed to love it. "That's where you are," she'd told him the one time he'd asked.
But it was the darkness within him that posed a threat to her now.
As they had for several nights, his feet took him to her door. It was slightly ajar, and as he approached silently he could hear her soft, deep breathing within.
She's home, he thought, more pleased than he had any right to be. Gently, soundlessly, he pushed the door open and stepped into her room.
He froze, rooted to the spot, as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing before him.
Jack was lying on top of her bed, over the covers, on her back. Her eyes were closed and her legs were spread slightly. She had nothing on. As he watched in astonishment, her hands moved slowly, sensuously across her body, gliding over her thighs, abdomen and breasts...
The animal within him came awake in the instant.
She made a tiny sound in the back of her throat as she touched herself. One hand slid down between her legs and he watched, enrapt as she spread herself open with her fingers, stroking them over her most sensitive flesh. His own fingers twitched, and he could swear he felt the soft warmth of her flesh, the slick smoothness beneath his fingertips...
Oh god, he thought, aware that coherence was already fleeing him.
Take her, the beast within growled softly. She's ready for you.
Oh god, no. He was trapped where he stood, his urges to move forward and to flee at war with each other. Before him, Jack moaned softly, her free hand travelinng up to her throat. Slowly,as he watched, she penetrated herself with two fingers. He could see exactly how wet she was, how open...
You can have her, the animal insisted. She's begging for it.
He wanted to cover her with his body, to run his hands over her the way her one hand was moving now. He wanted to taste her skin, every inch of it, to fondle those lovely breasts. He wanted to be responsible for every little moan and gasp she made. He wanted to drink from between her legs while she writhed. He wanted to plunge into her and come deep inside her body...
You can, the beast told him as he stared down at her. You can do it all. Right now. Take her.
He clenched his hands into fists, feeling the sweat prickling on his forehead. His erection was throbbing painfully, in time with her breathing. No! She doesn't know I'm here...
The darkness, he realized, was absolute for her, hiding him completely. Yes, this time, he really was within the darkness she trusted so much.
And she won't realize until it's too late. You can be inside her before she even knows you're in the room. Do it. Take her.
For a moment he saw himself doing it, falling upon her and grabbing her hand, pulling her fingers out of her and drawing them into his mouth even as he thrust into her--
Yes, the animal exulted. Do it! Do it now!
She moaned again. The scent of her body was overwhelming, making his mouth water and his breath quicken.
His mind was full of chaos.
TAKE HER!
When he moved he was swift and soundless. Out the door and down the ladder without a noise. He raced through the cargo bay and down the ramp before he collapsed, dropping to his hands and knees on the tarmac. He was shaking uncontrollably.
It should be raining, he thought disjointedly. The ground was dry beneath him and that felt wrong. He'd been soaked in blood and water the last time he felt such inner annihilation.
He gasped and shook for what felt like ages before his self control began to reassert itself. He turned and looked back at the ship, deceptively calm behind him. He knew how great a deception that quietude was.
This can't continue, he thought, feeling the first stirrings of real fear. If that happens again, I won't be able to stop myself. I barely managed to tonight.
He buried his face in his hands, despairing. Oh god, Jack, I don't know what to do now. Will I ever see you again once you know what the beast in me wants from you?
He didn't dare re-enter the ship until the first blushes of dawn appeared in the sky.
Moments after Riddick had fled into the night, a small sound drifted through the almost-deserted ship. Even with his preternaturally acute hearing, Riddick was too far away to hear it. He might not have believed it even if he had been in range, thinking that it was a trick, a ploy of the beast within. It was a woman's whispered voice, breathy with the throes of orgasm.
"Oh god... Riddick..."
32.
Jack: Over The Boundary
She woke to the sound of breakfast being prepared.
Jack stretched for a moment and then stopped in confusion. Realization dawned on her: she'd fallen asleep naked. On top of her covers, without a stitch on. What the...?
It had been years, she realized, since she had touched herself, since she had felt such an overwhelming need to do so. The last time had been before the shooting. All of her natural urges had been killed in the aftermath. Now they were alive again. And last night they'd demanded her attention. An entire day in close physical proximity with Riddick had left her full of explicit fantasies.
She must have fallen asleep right after she was finished, she realized. It had been amazing; she hadn't felt anything remotely like that in more than four years. She wondered if actual sex, with another person (a person you want, anyway, she qualified) was even more spectacular. She'd dropped into sleep on her way down from the high.
It's a good thing Riddick didn't check in on me, she thought suddenly. He'd have been royally pissed.
With that in mind she got up and dressed quickly. She could hear him putting plates on the table as she finished. After running her brush through her hair a few times she opened the door to her room.
The look Riddick gave her was odd, subdued and guarded. His voice was a bit off, too, when he spoke. "Good morning, Jack."
"Hey," she answered as lightly as she could, taking her seat. Something was wrong. Shit, maybe he had checked in on her last night...
He'd told her ages ago why he wanted her to wear pajamas. Back then there had been no ulterior motives for her not to, anyway, and she'd agreed to do so. If he'd caught her flaunting their agreement, he might be really pissed.
They ate in a strained silence.
No, Jack finally decided, taking another bite of the omelet Riddick had made her, I don't think he's mad. He just seems... uncomfortable.
He'd asked her the question yesterday; now it was her turn. "You okay?"
He blinked, glancing up at her. "Yeah," he finally replied. "Just... got a lot on my mind." He stared down at his plate as if his breakfast food was deeply fascinating.
Okay, he's not mad. That means he didn't walk in on me. That's something. I mean, he'd be reading me the riot act if he'd seen me like that, right?
Unless...
Unless he liked what he saw... The thought sent a fluttery jolt through her belly and between her legs.
That, she considered as she helped herself to another piece of sausage, would be wonderful beyond belief...
And don't you start believing it, either, "kid," she warned herself. You really think Riddick's going to peek into your room, see that you have the standard equipment that comes with girls, and somehow suddenly shout "Yes! She's the ONE!" about you? Not fuckin' likely. Dream the hell on.
She drowned her sorrows with a glass of grapefruit juice.
Well, something sure is bothering him, she reflected after a moment.
The awkward silence didn't dissipate at all during the meal. Afterward, Riddick stayed quiet until she finally turned to him and initiated things.
"What's today's agenda, Boss?" She never called him that and he blinked at the title.
"Time for me to find us a cargo, kid. This place is starting to wear thin. I'm gonna head out and do some provisioning for our trip. It'll be a pretty short hop. I'm thinking we could head to Daedalus Station or one of the mining colonies. Get you familiar with how the trading is done."
Discussing ship's business, he sounded more relaxed.
"That's only a five day hop, Riddick. When do we get to hit deep deep space?"
That odd, guarded look appeared on his face again. "Not long," he answered after a moment.
An uncomfortable silence fell for a minute. Jack changed the subject. "What do you want me to do while you're gone?"
He shrugged. "We did practically everything, yesterday. If you want you can look over the manuals, or you can just read something for fun. How far did you get with Judge Dee?"
"He just saw the ghost of the dead magistrate."
"End of chapter three?"
Jack nodded.
"Keep going. It gets better."
She grinned, walking over to the shelf. "Is that an order, Captain?"
His answering grin was almost completely normal. "Damn right. That's an order. Gonna quiz you when I get back."
Laughing, Jack carried the book over to her seat in the cockpit and lay back. That was more like it.
"Jack?" Riddick's voice came from behind her.
She put the book down on her lap and looked up. "Yeah?"
Riddick was standing by the ladder, his face oddly grave. "Don't go out anywhere, okay?"
"Sure," she answered. The why? went unspoken but he must have seen it in her eyes.
"Thanks. When I get back I need to talk to you about something."
The temperature inside Jack's body dropped sharply with those words. She hoped he couldn't see the dread filling her suddenly. "Okay," she managed to choke out, hoping it sounded as natural as possible.
He nodded, still looking serious, and began climbing down the ladder. Jack didn't move a muscle until she heard the ramp descend and rise again. Finally she let out a heavy, shaky breath.
It's coming, she thought miserably. Oh God, it's coming.
Years ago, in their late night space station bull sessions, her friend Ben had clued her in on this, too: After "Let's Just Be Friends," the worst four-word phrase in the galaxy was "We Have To Talk." It always meant the end of something.
He must have come into my room last night, she decided morosely, feeling a hollow ache settle in her chest. He saw me and now he's upset with me.
She could almost hear the lecture in store for her. He'd start with how she'd promised him she wouldn't do that, how irresponsible she'd been over the last few days, how young she was...
Even if he had been turned on by what he saw, she realized, it wouldn't help. He saw her as a child in a woman's body, assuming he even saw the woman's body at all.
What if he had figured out how she felt about him?
God, then it'll be even worse, she agonized. "you're so young, you don't know what you want out of life yet, and anyway I just love you like a sister..."
She rubbed a cold, shaky hand against the flushed skin of her face.
Please, God, strike me down now. If my world's about to end, let's just get it over with, okay?
If she ached this much already, how much worse was she going to feel once he actually said his piece?
I have to do something, she thought suddenly. I need a distraction. God knows how long he's going to be gone; I can't just sit here and wait for the axe to fall.
She picked the book back up and tried to turn her mind to the tribulations of ancient Imperial China and the deductive acumen of young Magistrate Dee, but the words on the page wouldn't stay in focus. Her fears kept intruding, more strident each time they barged in. Finally she returned the book to the shelf and shut the cover to the bookcase.
All of Riddick's bookcases were "barrister" style, a sensible precaution in a ship that might depressurize or lose gravity in a crisis. She wondered if he'd done that of his own initiative, or if someone who had learned through bitter experience had suggested it to him. Probably the former; Riddick almost never seemed to need the advice of others to find his way.
She spent the next two hours straightening the ship, putting the few odds and ends that were actually loose back in their places. When she finally ran out of things to do, the interior of the ship was fully flight-ready. Everything was locked down and able to withstand takeoffs, landings, hull-breaches, and gravitational anomalies.
Riddick was still not back.
She'd gone into his room to tidy up there as well, but there had been nothing to do. It was every bit as flight-ready today as it always was. She could almost swear he hadn't slept in his bed at all the night before.
The idea that he might have spent the whole night with someone didn't help her emotional state at all. What if that was what he wanted to talk about? What if he'd fallen in love?
The scenarios were just getting worse and worse, more and more painful.
Come on, Riddick. Come home and give me the bad news already, she thought, trying to somehow will her mind's words directly into his brain. She couldn't stand this much longer.
She needed to find another distraction.
She considered another round of "try to kill the punching bag," but everything in the exercise area was locked down now. What else was there to do?
Research. She could use the terminal and do some exploring while she waited.
Oh yeah, that'll really distract you from thoughts of Riddick, she told herself sarcastically. She knew, after all, exactly what subject she'd end up researching. But she was already sitting down in his seat, switching on the terminal and slicing into the Law Enforcement system once more.
For fun, she read the physiological profile on Riddick, noting that his blood type was AB-positive, making him a "Universal Receiver" and totally useless to blood banks. She pored over his body measurements with a little too much relish and blushed when she realized how intimate some of the measurements actually were.
No cavities, she thought with bemusement. No history of illness. Not even strep or chicken pox, for god's sake. Just that one bout with the stomach flu when he was eleven, and maybe that was food poisoning...
Nobody had medical records that spotless.
There it was again, she suddenly noticed. Under "tissue type" there was a notation that Class Seven or higher clearance for the "Charybis Project" was needed.
Why would his tissue type information be classified? she wondered. What is this Charybdis Project, anyway?
She was tempted to try the link, but what did she care about his tissue type, anyway? Wasn't like anybody actually did transplants anymore; even backwater planets relied on regen technology these days.
She left the physiology file and began exploring the "Criminal History" file, which recorded his exploits across eleven systems and enumerated his sixty-three known victims. She was interested to note that she was the official sixty-third notch on his belt.
That's me, the Dead Girl, she thought with a grin. She wondered, suddenly, why Riddick had never faked his own death.
She spotted another Charybdis Project link, under "Additional suspected killings."
Weird, she thought. The people he's suspected of killing, but not yet proved to have killed, are classified?
This time she was unable to resist. Whatever this Charybdis thing was, it seemed to have a lot of information of interest. Yeah, she did want to read the rest of Dr. Aspen's profile--
Yes, she admitted to herself, especially the sex stuff...
But there was something else going on here, something that seemed wrong. Why would an escaped con, even a "Terminally Dangerous" one, have half the pertinent details about him hidden away from the people who had to try and catch him?
She switched on the remainder of Riddick's hack-and-slice hardware and keyed the link. After a moment the screen cleared and an odd, stylized icon appeared in the center.
A whirlpool, she realized after a moment.
Below it, a menu had appeared, with places for input.
WELCOME TO CHARYBDIS. PLEASE ENTER YOUR FULL NAME AND PASSWORD.
Crap, she needed a name. The hardware might be able to come up with the password pretty quickly, but she'd still need a name...
She grinned and keyed one in. ASPEN, MARTINA C.
Surely Dr. Aspen would have Level 7 Clearance. She'd have to be able to read and update her own profiles, wouldn't she?
She activated the Password Slicer and sat back, interested to see how long it would take to get in, or if she would be kicked out after a moment.
The image on the screen suddenly came to life. The whirlpool began to rotate and expand, until its center had moved out to the edges of the screen. Now a new message came up in the blackness.
CLEARANCE GRANTED. WELCOME, DR. ASPEN.
She glanced over at the Slicer. It had gotten the password on the fifteenth try. Unbelievable. Some people had no sense...
She examined the menu that had appeared. What a letdown, everything looked very mundane. She keyed in a request for a site map.
The map took forever to load. The whole terminal seemed to be cycling much more slowly than before. She felt like she was plodding through electronic mud.
"Come on, you piece of shit, load already..."
The map appeared at last, simpler than she'd have expected given the amount of time it had taken. Dr. Aspen had personalized it, she noticed. And there was the section on Riddick...
She hit the link to Riddick's files. Now she was getting somewhere!
Once again, the loading took forever. She could hear the terminal working busily, but what appeared slowly on the screen didn't justify the amount of effort it was expending. It was just another freakin' menu, for god's sake.
"Any time this century would be nice, computer. I could go into cryo-sleep while you're working if you'd like..."
"Jack."
She jumped and turned at the sound of Riddick's voice. She'd been so busy concentrating on the terminal that she hadn't heard him re-enter the ship, hadn't so much as felt his approach. Now he stared, not at her but past her, at the terminal.
"Hey! I didn't hear you come--"
"What the fuck are you doing, Jack?" His voice was hushed and intense.
"Nothing, just a little light reading." She nonchalantly moved her hand over to the terminal, to switch off the monitor. He moved forward in a flash, faster than anything human could be, catching her wrist in a tight grip.
"Are you in the Charybdis System?" The expression on his face was suddenly almost frightening. His hold on her wrist was painfully tight. If he squeezed any harder, he might snap her bones.
"Riddick, please, you're hurting my arm--"
"FUCK, Jack!" he shouted, releasing her. He turned to the terminal and broke the connection. She stared at his face in awe, not able to believe the emotion that had appeared.
Terror. Riddick looked scared to death.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO!?!" he roared.
Artificial Intelligence was still in its infancy. Computers still did not feel emotions, did not feel such things as loneliness or anticipation, hatred or joy. Wakened after its sleep of two years, the Charybdis Trap did not exult in its rebirth or rejoice in the arrival of a stranger in its maw. It simply did what it was programmed to do.
The jaws of the Charybdis Trap snapped shut.