Title: If You're Gone (You Better Get Your Ass Back Here)
Author: Tareena Langford (Renegade87)
Chapters: 1
Rating: T, language
Pairing: Riddick/Jack
Feedback: Hell yea! I didn't post this thing for my health.
Disclaimer: I do not own Riddick ::damnit:: or Jack, or anything else from the Riddick universe. Nor do I own the song that makes an appearance, that belongs to Matchbox 20.
Summary: Just a little song fic set after the movie.

Author's Note: Apparently fanfiction net doesn't like me, so random lines of the lyrics are NOT in italics and NOT centered, hope it's not too confusing

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I think I've already lost you

I think you're already gone

I think I'm finally scared now

You think I'm weak, but I think you're wrong

I think you're already leaving

Feels like your hand is on the door

I thought this place was an empire

But now I'm relaxed and I can't be sure

She stood there crying in the dark cold night. She had just turned 18. Legal, and now the sole owner of the home they had shared. At least, that's what the short scribbled note left on the counter had said.

"Gotta go. Take care kid. The house is yours."

That was it. He was gone. She could scarcely believe how bad it hurt. It had all seemed so damn perfect. How the hell could he just leave like that? She couldn't figure out what had happened. She ran everything from the last five years through her head. Flashbacks coming and going at will.

He had trained her. She had fought. Fought to make him believe she was strong. That she could and would keep up with him. That she wasn't a liability. She thought she had proved that.

She thought she had finally gotten through that legendary Riddick shell. Finally been the one to crack that exterior. She guessed she thought wrong.

I think you're so mean, I think we should try

I think I could need, this in my life

I think I'm just scared, I think too much

I know this is wrong it's a problem I'm dealing

She never even went inside that night. She sat on the porch and cried. She had to get over him. She should have known sooner or later something like this was going to happen. She should have never have gotten as attached as she had. Should have never have cared.

But that didn't change the fact that she did.

If you're gone, maybe it's time to go home

There's an awful lot of breathing room

But I can hardly move

If you're gone, baby you need to come home

'Cause there's a little bit of something me

In everything in you

Maybe she should leave. Get out of this house. Forever. It just seemed too damn empty with out his big hulking form. She snatched the phone off the hook and dialed the first three numbers to the nearest realtor before she slammed the receiver back down. She couldn't. This was the only place that was ever 'home.'

I bet you're hard to get over

I bet the room just won't shine

I bet my hands I can stay here

I bet you need, more than you mind

She fought. Fought her emotions. Fought her thoughts. Fought the punching bag hanging in the gym. And when her muscles threatened to give out under the nonstop strain…she fought that too.

I think you're so mean, I think we should try

I think I could need, this in my life

I think I'm just scared, that I know too much

I can't relate and that's a problem

I'm feeling

She stopped. Panting heavily and blood running down her now unfeeling fingers.

That fucker.

She ran to her room and grabbed a duffle bag, shoving as many clothes as she could into it. She yanked a box out from under the bed and stuffed all the credits she could carry into her pockets. Finally she opened a secret door in the back wall of the closet and stared at the arsenal in front of her.

If you're gone, maybe it's time to go home

There's an awful lot of breathing room

But I can hardly move

If you're gone, baby you need to come home

'Cause there's a little bit of something me

In everything in you

She stalked her way to the transport yard. After some well trained 'interrogation' she had gotten the information she needed and hacked the nearest ship possible.

It took her a week to find him.

He must be slackin'.

She cut her hair boy-short again and dyed it black, making her blue eyes pop even more and dressed in brand new leather from head to toe.

He sat comfortably at a table picking at his meal and sipping a beer when her stealthy form slid into the chair across from him. He was just about to look up and tell whatever whore or tramp it might be to fuck off when it hit him just who it was.

"I think you're son-of-a-bitch. I don't know why you left but you better have a damn good explanation. I think we should try to work out whatever problem you seemed to have cooked up in that thick skull of yours. I think I could need you in my life, even though you are nothing but an asshole. I think I'm just scared, that I don't amount to anything without you, scared I can't go on without you, scared you just might not need me…"

He opened his mouth as if to say something…

"Shut up! I know everything I feel about your pathetic ass is wrong…it's a problem I have…but I'm dealing with it. So, you're gonna march your ass back to the ship that I stole to track you down and we are going back home. And I swear to God that if I have to torture you myself to get you to tell me what the fuck you thought you were up to, so be it. 'Cause you…are…not…leaving. Is that settled?"

He smirked.