Ok, I don't own Riddick (T.T But I wish I did!) I do own Chelsea.
I watched PB and TCoR, and I couldn't stop myself from beginning a new fanfic, but on Riddick. I'll try to keep him as in character as possible.
There's going to be mature stuff in this, so warning now!
Seven years. Seven years since I'd last seen him…But his voice still taunted me.
They say most of your brain shuts down in cryosleep…
I'd heard stories about him. About his time on the planet where the only set once every 29 years. About his conquering of the Necromongers. About how he saved the universe he hated.
All but the primitive side…
All of that in six years. Damn. I wasn't surprised.
All but the animal side…
And Riddick was a completely different animal.
Seven years ago, one year before Johns caught up with him, he saved my life. Completely unintentionally, of course. I, and five other people, owed our lives to that convict. But I won't go into it too much. It was nothing special. Just a commercial ship that lost power five days into the voyage; and a convict that we set loose so he could cover our asses. Poetic justice, that.
I'll never forget that voice; that deep, guttural sound that stirred things inside me; things I'm still embarrassed to talk about. On the odd occasion that I found myself alone with him in the cockpit, I'd study him. Sometimes we'd talk. He wasn't…quite what I expected. He affected the primal side of me that I thought I'd suppressed. I was afraid of him. I'd have been stupid not to be. But I was also fascinated. I think he knew. I know he knew. He could smell arousal, couldn't he?
His words stayed with me. Words that had made me flush with shame, horror. Listen sweetness. I'm flattered, but not interested. You got me? I'm not into weakness. Then he'd turn his silver gaze back to the controls.
Oh, I got him. I wasn't his type. I was weak. The other two women on board? Now they were his type, and in them, he showed interest. They were fit; toned; independent, kick ass warrior-chicks. Everything I wasn't. I was the nerdy doctor with the stereotypical glasses. But why, if I was supposed to be so smart, did the first man I was attracted to in four years, have to be a murderer? I didn't know at the time, but I like to think that in the seven years since that voyage, I've learned a little more about myself.
Chelsea Tithe. 29 last month. And though I'm still not a kick ass warrior-chick, I've learned to keep a few things hidden up my sleeve.
It was a planet whose name was a string of numbers and letters that I didn't bother to remember. It was a tropical planet. The forests completely surrounded the human cities, and most people didn't venture beyond the city boundaries. It was wild out there. Dangerous.
Without the threat of the end of the universe hanging over my head, life was normal. I saw my patients, then went home and crashed.
I never thought I'd see him again. Small universe, huh?
I saw him slip through the market crowd, and my heart stopped. How he managed not to stand out, I don't know, but hardly anyone noticed him. He looked around, and I held my breath, but his gaze passed me over. I couldn't stop a small spurt of disappointment that he hadn't recognized me. But then, why should he?
I cursed myself for my stupidity and walked back to my apartment. I dumped my stuff on the counter and headed straight for the shower. The water pounded my back, massaging my aching shoulders, stiff with stress and tension. When I was finished, I opened my bathroom door and walked into the hallway, towel wrapped around my body.
Needless to say, I wasn't exactly expecting Riddick to have made himself at home on my couch.
Next chapter will be in Riddick's point of view. There will be sexual situations (Though not actual sex. Not yet, anyway.) Please review!