My Labyrinth and Inuyasha-based readers must be groaning, thinking, Damn it, she's starting another one! I can't say that I'm sorry, I write what I feel like writing, and if I don't write out one plot bunny, it eats the outlines for the other stories... So you'll just have to deal with me having more than one. In case you haven't followed one of my stories before, I work in chunks. I'll write usually about five chapters or so in a day, and then lose my muse for a month or two... and make a comeback later on. I usually finish what I started. :)
I'm still wondering about making Riddick a total psychopath. :) We'll just have to see.
And yes, I do have a habit of naming my fics after songs - this one's titled after Under the Sun by Sugar Ray, but it's got nothing to do with the story. I just liked the idea of calling it a summer... You'll see why.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Riddick-affiliated... but, God, I wish I did. I wish I had Vin Diesel on a contract of uncertain terms. Can you imagine Vin in bed? Those hands? That voice? Mmm... But yeah, I don't own anything, and I don't make any profit from these, except to satisfy my own curious imagination... but no money. Unfortunately.
It was almost a week before they were picked up. Luckily, they had found some bottled water in the shitty first-aid kit. It was the first bit of luck they had gotten in a long time, and Riddick rationed it out carefully – just enough to keep from getting dehydrated. He took less than they did too, especially after he had to clean the gash in his leg. The Imam told them biblical stories and Jack taught them number games to keep from boredom, and they slept when they were tired. Riddick didn't sleep. He made sure that Jack stayed coherent, that they weren't getting snuck up on by some merc ship.
Five days in, she laid in his arms, weak. She slept more than half the day now, and he didn't complain. It preserved energy, it made it so she didn't have to feel the hunger pangs. Imam was asleep on the bench behind them. He had his feet up on the console as she stared blankly out into the stars, and he listened to her stomach complain in time with his. He wondered if she was actually conscious or not, glancing down at her and not letting the worry come out on his face, in case she was.
So quietly that he wasn't sure if she had said it or if she had thought it, she whispered, "We're going to die on this ship, aren't we?"
"No," he replied, and frowned at the sound of his own voice. Rougher than usual, strained, cracked. His hand searched for one of the water bottles and he took a small sip, just to refresh his throat. He made Jack take a mouthful too, and she drank it without question. "We'll get picked up. I promise." Before he knew what he was doing, he kissed her temple. She had already fallen asleep.
She didn't wake up again. Riddick tried and failed to get her to respond to him, but she was quiet, her breathing shallow. He forced some water past her lips, more than her usual ration. He'd go without. He pressed a hand to her forehead and it was impossibly hot, making him frown worriedly. As he turned to ask the Imam something, he stopped with his mouth open. He was asleep, and Riddick couldn't remember the last time he was awake. He shook Jack slightly, and she didn't respond.
He shuddered and just held her in his arms, hoping against hope that he hadn't wasted his time in saving her, in getting attached to her. That was where they found him when the gigantic ship reeled in the tiny skiff. He was the last one awake, and the Imam was barely breathing. He put Jack into the pilot's seat, and she protested with a whine, proving that she was still alive. It made his heart soar, the first sound she'd made in days. He stood, holding onto a bar above him as the docking door opened. He swayed on his feet, but raised his shiv defensively.
Someone said his name, and he vaguely recognized the voice, from long, long ago. His vision was swimming and his hearing was warbled, as if he were in water. He managed to growl as a manly figure stood before him at the end of the ramp. He coughed once before he fell, the shiv slipping from his fingers as he succumbed to hunger and dehydration and his vision went black.
Some time later, his eyes snapped open and he was blinded by fluorescent lights. He hated fluorescent lights. He closed his eyes tightly again and groaned, trying to bring a hand to his face but finding that he was handcuffed. Someone in the room laughed, and Riddick had to rely on his sense of hearing to figure where they were. He wasn't naked, which was usually a good sign, even though one pant leg was gone up to his upper thigh. He was reminded of the gash in his leg. Now that he noticed, both his hands were handcuffed to the sides of a bed that felt like either a slam cot or a hospital bed. He had needles in the crooks of both of his elbows, and he could feel the fluids that were slowly replenishing his body's reserves.
"Good to see you awake, Rich," the man said. Riddick stiffened. No one had called him that since he left Furya. His head tilted as the man continued to speak, "Never thought I'd see you again, you huge bastard." Something touched his jaw and he jerked away. "Relax, they're your goggles." He felt the familiar tightness of them close around his head and squinted his eyes open first, just in case. He allowed his eyes to adjust and looked up at the man in the room.
His face was handsome by universal standards, with ice-blue eyes that shined like his, but in color and had no problem with the bright lights. He wasn't a hunk of muscle like Riddick, but it was clear that he had complete control over his body, and knew how to throw it around. He had one gun at his hip, but several knives. He wore a shirt loose enough to show off part of a glowing hand print that matched the one that occasionally glowed on Riddick. He remembered him from before he ever left Furya.
He scowled. "Devon," he said flatly.
Devon grinned widely at him. "So you do remember me! Excellent, glad to see that you're coherent. Now," he was about to continue when Riddick lunged against his restraints again, putting them less than a foot from each other.
"Where's Jack?" he demanded.
After blinking, Devon said, "Oh, the girl? Next room over." He walked to a wall with a window on it and opened the blinds that separated the two, allowing Riddick to see her in a matching bed. She wasn't wearing cuffs, but looked a lot worse than when he had last seen her. "Poor thing was so dehydrated, her immune system was down. She's got a lung infection. Should be fine in a few more days, Jadenn thinks."
Riddick's eyes didn't leave Jack until he saw her chest rise and fall several times, assuring him that she was alive, breathing. From the looks of it, breathing deeper than she had when she'd been asleep on the ship. He looked back at Devon. "Where are we?" he asked next.
"My ship, the Fury," he answered. He looked down his nose at Riddick and then grinned wolfishly. "The girl your daughter?" he asked. Riddick gave him a flat look and he relented, shrugging. "Doesn't matter, I know she's not... DNA doesn't match, we checked. How long were you out there?" he asked curiously.
It bothered Riddick that he actually had to think about it. "Six days," he replied slowly. "Only a half gallon of water between the three of us." Devon nodded, that explained the dehydration. Riddick stared at him again and then asked, "You got out?"
Devon laughed. "You're kidding, right? We were gone before that Necromonger dickhead even found out about the Elementals' prophecy. Last living Furyans are on this ship – now that you're here, it makes all of us." Riddick fought the urge to ask how many – how many of his kin had actually escaped. "Four hundred and sixty two," Devon said, as if reading his mind. That bothered Riddick too... Even more that he knew an exact number.
He moved on to the next question, trying to gain the upper hand in the conversation. "Why am I cuffed?"
Again, Devon laughed. "Are you serious? I can't imagine all the shit you had to do to get someone to put a one million dollar bounty on your head, and you think I'd let you loose on my ship? Come on, you know I'm not an idiot." He smirked at Riddick.
His eyes darkened. "I haven't seen you in twenty years, I don't know shit," he replied. Devon shrugged. "I'm not gonna kill any Furyans, Devon, you should fuckin' know that much." Riddick was angry and he wasn't entirely sure why... that wasn't new, though. Again, he shrugged, even as he reached for the keys to the cuffs. As he was let loose, Riddick removed the two intravenous needles, adjusted the goggles on his eyes, and sat up to examine himself. The cuffs hadn't left marks, at least. He again looked up at Jack in the next room.
"What are you gonna do now, Riddick? For all anyone knows, you and everyone else died on that planet." Riddick looked up at him, wondering how he knew. Devon sighed, tired of explaining himself. "The Imam woke up yesterday and told me everything... Can't blame him, Kerrin had a knife at his dick," he said, and shrugged.
Riddick felt a sudden surge of rage and scowled darkly at Devon. "Your entire family make it out alive?" he demanded, letting the anger show in his face.
His eyes narrowed. "Your sister killed herself, Riddick, and you can't blame that on me." Riddick looked away from him with a sharp turn of his head. Devon's tone softened, and he told him, "You can stay on the ship for as long as you like, or we can put you back on the skiff with more supplies so you can go where you want."
For the first time in a very long time, Riddick considered someone besides himself. If it were just him, he'd be off this heap and in that skiff already. Devon would be lying in a pool of his blood on the floor. He looked hard at Jack and knew that she trusted him like an older brother. He had promised he'd take care of her back on that skiff, and he didn't break promises. His jaw worked from side to side as he thought. She'd slow him down if he ran with her, but as Devon said... they probably thought they were all dead. Even if the insurance company for the Hunter-Gratzner made it out to that planet and found all the bodies and a few missing coils, they'd never be able to figure out where they had gone. Everything on that planet had been solar-powered, including the security cameras he'd seen – nothing to prove that they'd left the planet. Nothing to prove that they survived.
Slowly, he tilted his head. "What would you have me do if I stayed aboard?" he asked Devon.
He shrugged. "What you can, whatever you're good at."
Riddick laughed. "I'm good at killing, Devon," he spat. "Got a job for that?" Devon shrugged. Riddick sighed, and looked at Jack again. "Alright. But she stays with me."
He almost argued, but thought better of it, and just nodded. Riddick nodded back and asked, "How long have I been here?"
"Two days," Devon answered. "She hasn't woken up even once yet." Riddick got out of the bed and went to the door. A nurse down the hall was surprised to see him up, but Devon fended her off with the flick of a hand. Riddick went in the next door, where the lights were dimmer so that she could sleep. He closed the shades between the two rooms and pushed his goggles up against his forehead. He leaned an elbow above her head and faintly discovered that he didn't smell too pleasant at all. It made sense, he'd been in cryo for weeks, then been on a planet where he had to run around carrying heavy shit through thick dirt and hot sunlight, and fought against monsters with blue guts, and then sat on a ship for six days. The rain wouldn't have washed away much.
Regardless, he glanced at his hand and found it clean. They'd probably cleaned what they could, keep him from infection. That explained his missing pant leg. He'd have to demand a new pair later. He ran his hand down the side of Jack's face, felt the fuzz of her hair. Even as stubble, it was soft. He couldn't imagine it if she grew it out. She drew in one ragged breath after another, and it hurt him to hear it. He could hear the fluid in her lungs, but knew she'd fight it.
Devon cleared his throat from the doorway. Riddick turned his head to glare at him, but Devon just motioned towards a chair against the wall. Riddick glanced at it before he put back a bare foot – where the hell were his boots? - and drew the chair closer. He sat in it and ran a hand from Jack's shoulder to her hand, being careful of the needles stuck in her arm. He frowned, wondering why there had to be three of them. He had a feeling she hated needles, though he didn't know why.
"Don't leave the room, alright? I'll be back later," Devon told him. Riddick just snorted. He wouldn't leave Jack anyways.
Riddick was tracing lines across her palm when she woke up. She just opened her eyes and stared at him, so quiet and so little change in her heartbeat that he didn't even notice. He was so wrapped up in her little hand that lay in his with such trust, was able to be comforted just by his warmth. He absently wondered just how many people had met their end at the end of his shiv or through the brutal force of his hands, and wondered if Jack had any idea how high the number really was. The government only knew so much.
He became aware that he was being stared at and his eyes snapped to hers. His back immediately straightened and he brought his hands back into his lap. She mourned the loss of warmth. Her hands were the only parts of her that were actually warm, not just at a comfortable room temperature. Her toes and ears were cold. She knew better than to complain about being cold. She glanced around and frowned that the light was so dim, but looked back at his face. She appreciated being able to see his eyes that looked so much like moonlight.
As if unsure, he raised a hand and she smiled reassuringly as he touched her shoulder, and then her face. She leaned into the large hand and closed her eyes, smiling more. "You're awake," he said, his voice quiet and unreadable.
She frowned. "How long was I out?" she croaked. She made a face at her voice, and Riddick chuckled. His hand moved from her face, fingertips tracing the edge of her neck, along her jugular.
"Four days," he said softly. Jack felt her ears ring with the sound. "You were dehydrated and your immune system was down, and you caught yourself a lung infection." Jack scowled at her weakness. His fingers curled to the back of her neck and she barely noticed, aside from the warmth. "I've been here since I woke up." She looked up at him, surprised. He had actually passed out? She opened her mouth to ask, but he just told her, "Even I can't fight severe hydration, Jack. I hadn't eaten in two weeks, hadn't had a drink in a week, maybe more. Johns wasn't as nice to me as he was to you." His eyes were distant and he toyed affectionately with the baby hairs that she had missed when she had hacked her hair, just behind her ears.
Jack gave him a dark look. Riddick had clued her in to the events that led Johns to his death, and then she just smirked at him. "You look worried, Riddick," she said mischievously. "Were you worried that I wouldn't wake up?" she tilted her head at him.
He pulled his hand away from her abruptly. "Never had a doubt," he echoed her words from what now seemed so long ago, and she laughed at him.
