***Alright, I've decided to try something different this time around. This is an idea that I've had swimming around in my head for a while. Might be a bit of a slow start, but I think that it'll all pan out pretty soon. But just a heads up, this will be full of sexual situations, language, and graphic scenes. If any of that unsettles you, I encourage you to find another story. And just so there aren't any broken hearts later on - and I'd hate to waste your time - this won't be a Jack/Riddick pairing. ***

Another Time, Another Place

Chapter One

And so it Begins

She laid her head against the cool porcelain bowl. The contents of her high-protein dinner from the night before all but completely out of her system. The suddenness of everything must have been too much.

"Fuck," she whispered. What the fuck?

So now she knew. All it took was an instant. All it took was a word. A name.

Now she understood everything.

She'd been struggling with her identity for months now. Since she'd crashed on Kalsten, she'd been in a frantic search to straighten things out. Get some answers.

But now it made sense. The reason that nobody was able to help her. The reason that nobody was able to identify her. The planet was beyond the Empire's control. There wasn't any reason for them to have information on her.

There was nothing that could prepare her for this. Nothing that could soften the blow of reality. Nothing that could lessen her feelings of disgust and repulsion. What had she done?

A mistake. The type that you can't run from. The type that'll haunt you because your mind won't just let you shut it out. Won't let you forget.

She should count herself lucky that she had the last few months to live in ignorance. If given the choice, she would gladly go back to having no memory of anything, rather than suddenly remembering everything.

But it was too late, and here she was.

She laid there on the cold floor of her bathroom and revisited the most recent dream that she had experienced. She had known it was important. She knew that it was the missing piece to the puzzle. Why else was it the only thing that played in her mind when she slept? The repeat button was on. And fuck if her subconscious weren't trying to get through to her. It had thrown symbolism out the window. Something had been trying to claw its way out of her. An abomination. Something that was making her cringe away. Maybe that's why it had taken so long for her to figure it out. Maybe she was consciously trying to keep the past at bay.

That dark little box in the back of her mind, the one that should be avoided at all costs.

Whatever the cost.

Her mind wandered to that dream, and the subsequent events that led her to this point. She felt like she was looking in on someone else's life. And in a way, she was.

"So what'd you do in a situation like that? What would you do, Frankie?" His body was relaxed. He asked the question as though he were making small talk.

So… what do you do in a situation like that? She posed the question to herself. Rolling it over and over in her mind and nearly laughing at the absurdity of the situation. What the fuck type of question was that? She didn't like where the conversation was heading. What was he getting at? Where was the starting point to all this? How does he always fucking redirect the attention to her?

"Just don't panic, kid." She looked over at him, studying his cool expression. "I can't say what anybody will do in a situation like that. I can't tell you what'll come to you instinctually."

She didn't like the look that he had in his eyes. He was more distant and contained ever since the other night. It unsettled her. Did she feel responsible? If so, why was it guilt, and not remorse that she felt?

"You know, they say that the eyes are the window to the soul." She looked over at him again, this time holding his gaze. "And I don't like what I'm seeing there."

She waited for his response, but grew aggravated when he refused to do more than meet her gaze. She looked away from him for a moment and went back to packing her duffle bag.

None of it mattered now. It'd all be over soon enough. She'd made her decision.

She looked up again and a familiar scene greeted her. Richard was now standing an arms length away. A small smile was playing on his lips, and his right hand was tapping almost absentmindedly against his leg. The shiv was held tight in his fist and the steady trickle of blood was pooling on the floor around him. The sound of it seemed in time with his movements. She didn't need to examine him closer; this image of him was burned into her mind. His arms were covered in blood and gore and the only indication that his black shirt and pants were covered was the fact that it glistened in the light from the moisture.

"You proud, Frankie? I went for the sweet spot just like you showed me. What a gusher, right?" A sick, telling smile, cock of the head.

There wasn't enough air in the room. She sat gasping and shaking for moments longer then she liked, her lungs straining to suck in enough oxygen. Her mind was reeling in the wake of her dream.

There was no escaping it. Dreams like that had been haunting her for months now. Ever since she had arrived here. But she'd be lying to herself if she tried to maintain that they were just dreams. They were too real – too defined and distinct to just be dreams.

There was much more to it than that.

She wondered when she had fallen asleep. Sprawled out on her back, the low hum of the television that she had left on was comforting. She let her mind focus on the words of the news reporters. Local news was pretty docile. The same old run down. Accidents, park openings, and the local religious groups calling for unification.

The apocalypse was nearing, apparently.

The intergalactic news reports were always much more interesting. Listening to those, it was easy to see why people thought their existence was coming to an end. Murders, rebellion, and a break out at a minimum security prison. Typical, but the quaint folks of Kalsten were little concerned with those matters.

The woman's voice droned on and on. Her cadence was quick and a bit too forced at certain parts. Like now – her voice rose up an octave as she distributed the news of a convict long thought to be dead. She sounded unsure as she read off the information. "…Class B convict Richard B. Riddick, has been spotted on…"

That jogged her out of her idle thoughts. That name…

"…Long thought to be dead, the convict that has escaped three maximum security prisons is considered to be armed and dangerous, if…"

Riddick…

Bang! Like a bullet to the head. All it took was an instant. Her world fell to pieces with the mention of one word. A name. His name.

Reflecting on it now, she considered the irony of the situation. Here she was trying for months to figure out who she was exactly. And it wasn't her name that brought everything back to her. It was someone else's.

It was in that instant that she knew who she was.

Consequences and decisions to be faced.

Frankie Tran, mother fuckers.

His last lead had led him nowhere. His patience was spent and he was very seriously considering heading back to Helion Prime. Let Imam know exactly how disappointed he was. He'd left the holy man with simple instructions: keep her safe.

He had given his word. But what's the word of a holy man?

It all amounted to nothing.

He should have known when he left her there that she'd resent him. He expected it. Wanted it for fucks sake. Anything to make her stop looking at him like he was her god. He was nobody to look up to. Nobody to idolize. Nobody to emulate.

He was nobody.

He wanted her to have a chance. He wanted her to have the normal life that he never had. He'd been given the chance to be something when he was younger. He was given the opportunity to be a killer, and he latched onto that.

That was who he was. No trying to escape that.

Jack was no killer though. She was just a scared kid that wanted someone to show her the way. And his way wasn't the one that she needed. Not the one that she would have chosen for herself if she knew better.

But mercs, for fucks sake! Of all of the ways for her to get back at him, that was the most unexpected. The most unpleasant. It made that certain unmentionable part of his mind want to find her. It wanted to pay her back for the years on that ice ball. Eliminating her would make his life that much easier.

But he was able to rein in those impulses. If he was anything, he was controlled.

He was pulled out of that train of thought by the loud noise coming from his console. He accepted the incoming recorded message.

He had pulled a favor with an old acquaintance. Told him that he needed some information on a certain merc. His man had apparently pulled through.

About fucking time that something went right.

Jason Deft was showing some activity in the Andromidan system way the hell on the outskirts of the Empire's control. Jack signed up with him about six months ago, so he'd be lucky if she was still with him. If she played her cards right, and he wasn't desperate for cash she may have lasted. But a pretty face was likely to be more valuable to him out there than a rookie merc.

A lot can go wrong in six months.

Especially in the Andromidan system. There wouldn't be anybody to save her ass. Nobody to run to. It was rough out there.

His console let out another loud, abrupt beep.

He cocked his head at the information. No big surprise there, they'd upped the payday on his head. They apparently never eliminated the possibility that he was alive to begin with, so the payday for him hadn't fallen off much. But now, it had more than tripled. Three hundred thousand creds was a ridiculous amount of money to pay for one con.

He was flattered that someone thought he was worth that much.

He scrolled through the database, looking through the list of marks. A couple of names caught his eye, but they weren't people for him to be concerned with. People that he didn't associate with.

What the fuck?

He jerked forward in his seat. "Eight hundred thousand. Suspect is extremely dangerous. Frankie Tran is wanted for..."

He began searching through the files available, telling himself to remain calm. He was looking through photos that they had of her alleged resurfacing, but all that he could make out in the grainy digitals was a woman of average height, black hair, and a fair complexion. Her face was blurred, like she had moved at exactly the right moment to avoid being caught on camera.

"Damn it," he ground out. He was desperate to find more information, but what was there was scant. He was doubtful that it was her. How could it be?

But who the hell would offer up that much money, if they weren't certain that it was her?

He frowned. His mind was running at a thousand miles an hour. Going over the possibilities, and dismissing every option as soon as it occurred to him.

Which ghost from his past? Jack or Frankie?

To chase after a kid who had betrayed him – who may not even be alive. He'd already wasted six months running after her. Nearly got caught on Helion Prime. And Jason Deft may be another dead end and he'd lose his chance to chase after someone that plagued his dreams.

Someone that had disappeared thirteen years ago. Someone that wasn't supposed to be alive. Her ship was never uncovered though. The possibility that she was somewhere out there – laying low - had occurred to him several times. But why not try to find him? Why stay hidden for thirteen years? Thirteen long fucking years.

Fuck

For once the answer wasn't clear to him. His instincts were telling him to run in one direction, but then his misdirected sense of obligation was tearing him in the other.

"What would Frankie do?" the voice in the back of his mind taunted.

His fingers pounded on the keyboard – searching for the answer.

"…Frankie Tran was last seen on Mertvas…"

The Andromidan system…

Well, damn. What were the odds…

***Feedback is very much appreciated. Sorry if any of this is confusing right now, it should all clear up in the next couple of chapters.***