Disclaimer: Pitch Black and all its' characters are not mine. We all know this sad fact of life. Just like we all know the only thing we have to gain is our own enjoyment. This is rated M, because Riddick isn't a 'please and thank you' kinda guy. And there's the whole violence thing, too.
Chapter 1
So, it's been seven years since I've seen him. Seven years is a long time. I would be lying if I said I never think about him any more, but I have slowly taught myself not to let him be the first and last thought of my every waking day. 'Cause he was for so long. It was hard to actually start a life with things in mind other than him, goals that somehow would not make me more perfect in living his life. I know that's not what he wanted for me, and it's not like I was thinking about going to Assassins R Us, or something, but the first couple years were centered around him. I know Imam worried a lot in those two years. I went to school, took all the training classes I could, and then I went to a community center to learn anything medical I could find. See, Riddick-centered. I don't know how I lasted two years without a life or spare time. But those two years were probably necessary. It let me accept that I needed to do things because I wanted to, because I had that right. After that, I still was finishing high school, taking all the training classes I could, and the occasional medical course, but then it was because I liked those things, not because I thought they would make me more valuable to Riddick. Imam and I had a long talk about that, because after two years he was starting to think I was obsessed or something. Most kids don't graduate from high school at 16, but what can I say? I'm gifted.
I saw my first merc, after Johns, anyway, at 17. Needless to say, I did what had to be done. Did I enjoy it? Not really; it's a lot messier and smellier than most people realize. The body lets go of everything when it dies, ya know. All the books and movies in the world can't get a person ready for that. But I had Imam to protect, and it wasn't hard to figure out why I was so interesting to them in the first place. I got lucky that time because the guy never found out where I lived. And I moved out of Imam's within the week. He had a hard time with that, thought I was doing the teenage rebellion thing, but it's not like I could tell him why I needed to live across town all of a sudden. Besides, he did have a family and had taken care of me when Riddick couldn't. It was a small way to pay the holy man back, and I was happy to do it. I could take care of myself, and him... not so much. It's a good thing, too, because I saw a lot of mercs after that. So much that I had to come clean with Imam when I changed my name. Try telling your dad that you moonlight as a hacker and have to change absolutely everything about you, cut off all ties. He fought me pretty hard on it. Until I pulled the Ziza card. That stopped him cold. Sure, I may have been only 17 in physical years, but I was way older, and we both wanted Ziza never to understand that kind of aging. So, I did the only thing I could. I changed my name, my ID, everything that made me Jack, and I ran.
It wasn't all that traumatic, actually. I got to give myself the name I had always wanted, and how many people get to do that? And so I moved to another planet, big deal. I had moved so much before I had gotten on that damned Hunter-Gratzner, one more move wasn't going to break me. It just made me appreciate what a breather those two years with Imam were. Two years where I could half-way relax, and that was something for me. At first, I kept a low profile by getting a job as an exotic dancer - not a stripper! Jesus, like they could actually dance or do anything to a pole except hump it, please! Anyway, I worked for an entertainment group, so we went and provided the entertainment and didn't have to worry about drunks trying to stuff paper money into places I would never let them in a million years. It also meant I got to sleep during the day. Always have been a night owl, always will be. It's quieter, and easier to think at night. Plus, I am already up and ready to do errands before most people are even getting their first cup of coffee. It was a good life. I didn't need a lot of friends, maybe one when I had the urge to be around people, I am just very self-sufficient. I know who I am, and I don't need other people to entertain me. You had my mind, you would definitely understand. The shit I can think up... Anyway, I stayed there for about a year before I got spotted. So, I grabbed what I needed and couldn't live without, and booked. Went three systems away, and very far away from Helion.
So, I've been lucky enough to stay on this place for the last four years. I hit a gold mine and didn't realize it. I wondered why the passage was so fuckin' dirt cheap; no one with a good bone in their body would ever come near this planet. It's a black market heaven, especially if you have a bounty on your head. Mercs know better than to shine a badge around here without making a will first. Sure, I got a lot of shit when I first got here, but c'mon, it's ME. After a month and a lot of dead creeps, no one looked at me twice. Guess I passed muster. Still came up with a new name and ID, just in case. Got another job doing security for a local bar, and I'll be damned if I don't love it. I get to fight all I want and get paid. Shoulda realized that sooner or later, he'd show up here.
It's not like I ever really thought about it. I had my own life, spent it alone for five years. Sure, I still talked to Imam every month, but they were way over there, and I was actually becomming content. I still did courses online for things that interested me, and even though you'd barely know that anyone lived in my home to look at it, it had enough for me. After four years of bouncing, I had all the money I needed if I had to run, and I was safe from the people I needed to be watch out for.
And then he had to show up and fuck it all up.
I mean, I wasn't pissed or mad that he had found me, but I was getting used to my life. I probably would have died on that planet at a ripe old age and had no regrets. He just wasn't something I thought about all the time. I had to grow up, and usually that means letting go of childish fantasies. I had accepted the fact that I would never see him again, and that was a hurt that would always come back to sting a little, so I didn't think about it. Actually seeing him, well, it wasn't something I had planned for. That would have meant keeping a small hope that it would happen, and you know why I couldn't keep that.
Him showing up at the bar, starting a fight, and getting stabbed was not how I had ever imagined our reunion, either.