I do not own Pitch Black or Chronicles of Riddick.
Somehow, I found my way back to Helion Prime after all these years. I never thought I'd go back after what happened. There was no need to come back and yet…
Standing in front of the holy man's house, it's like it was never ransacked or damaged. The air shifted around me and I turned my head to find Aereon appearing next to me. She was staring at me with that all knowing look in her eyes. At some point in the past, it ceased to irritate me. I guess five years stuck on the Basilica made me appreciate any kind of emotion.
"What are we doing here, Riddick?" The air elemental asked.
"You already know the answer to that, witch." I grunted, returning my attention back to the familiar structure.
"Yes and no." She admitted. "I can't decide if you are running from some greater responsibility…"
I snapped my head back to her to give her a warning look. But as usual, she ignored me.
"Or, if you're trying to fill a void that tormenting an entire race couldn't fulfill."
My lips twitched at the memories of how I made the Necormongers' lives miserable. Normally, I didn't take pride in taking lives, I just enjoyed it. But damn the shit I put those fuckers through made me grow ten inches taller. But she was right…on both accounts. I can't get shit done until I figure out the hell is wrong with me.
The air witch watched me for a bit, calculating my reaction, taking mental notes and plotting the future. You know, her usual shit.
"Are you going to knock?"
I snorted. "When have I ever knocked?" Aereon smiled and then disappeared again, leaving me alone and back to the dilemma at hand. But before I could decide, the front door opened. I ducked into the shadows across the street. A women walked out, carrying a basket and wearing a hood over her face. In the air I could smell the familiar scent of some fruity shampoo that the holy man's wife used the last time I was here. I continued to watch as the widow locked the door behind her and hurried off down the street on foot. Now the front door is really not an option.
Ziza sat in her father's office, fiddling with his old pendant. She always did this when her mother left the house. The death of her husband had caused a great deal of pain Lajjun. So much so, that everything that belonged to the man was locked up tight in his office. Even the pictures of a girl named Jack whom Ziza had never met.
The eleven year old girl figured out how to pick the lock and she sneaked into the room whenever she could. The room still smelled like him. His documents neatly in place yet collecting a fine layer of dust. Boxes full of pictures, clothes and shoes sat in the corner. A shelf with is colognes right above it. Even his prayer rug was rolled up and leaning against the wall. When Ziza felt especially lonely, she would open the box of father's clothes and take a whiff. And then she would retell herself the story of Riddick and pretend it was her father speaking. But as the years wore on, Ziza could barely remember what her dad sounded like. Not even staring at his photo would bring back the sound of his low tenor. At first she cried over it. She racked her brain, driving herself crazy trying to remember the booming of her father's laugh.
But now she just sat in his chair, staring blindly at gat gun burns on the opposite wall. She recalled the first thing she did once came back to the house was cleaning up this room. Her mother wanted to fix up her husband's office before he returned home. Even after they received the news of his demise, she continued cleaning. It was sad. It still was sad.
Ziza was so wrapped up in her memories that she almost missed the shadow flying across the room. The eleven year old looked out to the balcony and saw nothing. Logically, she knew it was probably a bird, but some sick hope told her it might be her father. That he might not be dead. That he hitched a ride on the Basilica to help Riddick get rid of the monsters. So she stood up from her father's chair, clutching the pendent in her hand, and slowly walked to the balcony doors. She could see the sun setting over the newly constructed New Mecca, thin clouds floating slowly in the sky, and the lights beginning to flicker on, but no birds. Nothing. In the back of her mind she knew the smart thing to do was to leave the room and lock the door behind her. Even though New Mecca was getting back on its feet, it still wasn't safe. Putting her face up to the glass, Ziza tried to get a better view. Again finding nothing, the girl backed away from the glass doors and resigned to believe it was just her imagination. She turned to leave the room, but not before replacing her father's pendent back in its rightful place on his desk.
Riddick was once again reminded what five years does to young girls. The urge to announce his presents to her was irritatingly extreme. She had her father's kind eyes, but she had her mother's stubborn jaw and curly light, brown hair. Sitting there on the roof, Riddick waited until the sun was completely gone before he swung himself back on to the balcony. Quietly, the turned the knob, remembering that it had no lock the last time. This time, however, was different. The knob wouldn't budge. Now he really wished he'd just drop down on the balcony as planned. Just seeing her sitting there caught him off guard, so he hid.
Closing his eyes, the ex-convict sent out his other-terrestrial hand to reach inside the door and turn the lock. A nifty little trick he discovered on the Basilica. He rarely used his Lord Marshal powers. He didn't believe he really needed them. But they did come in handy in situations like this. Riddick stepped into the room quietly and silently closed the door behind him. He stood in the familiar room for a moment before leaving, reminiscing would have to wait.
The rest of the house was dark. Lajjun still hadn't come home and Riddick briefly wondered if that was normal. But he pushed the thought aside when he heard Ziza humming softly to herself in her room. He followed the voice to a door at the end of the hall. There was no light emanating out from under the door. Another dilemma. The last thing he wanted to do was scare the girl. The convict turned away from the door. He would come back when the girl was asleep.
"Riddick?"
The sound of his name froze him. Did she know he was there?
"Riddick, it's Ziza again. I know I should probably talk to Allah about these sort of things, but…it's easier if I pretend like I'm talking to you. "
The ex-Lord Marshal turned back to the door and listened.
"I know that you're probably half across the galaxy and that even if you were here, you wouldn't want to listen to my problems, but…I miss my dad. I can't even remember what his voice sounded like. And mom pretends like he never existed, and all my friends are gone."
I'm eleven now. My birthday was two weeks ago. And it's been five years so, you can come back now right?"
At this, Riddick's lips twitched. Is that how he operated, now? Disappear ever five years and then to return to New Mecca?
"You'd think I'd have better shit to do." He thought to himself.
"Mom leaves every day to go pray. Sometimes she's gone all night. Sometimes she's only there for an hour. But every time she comes home she has a basket full of food. I think she's too proud to tell me that she can't find a job and that we have to live off of the charity at the mosque. But I'm not clueless and I'm not useless! I'm not six years old anymore. "
Riddick could hear the knot forming in the little girl's throat as she continued to speak. She was trying so hard not to cry. As if even when she pretended to talk to him she felt she couldn't cry.
"I wish dad was here. He'd know what to do." Ziza finished before breaking down into tears.
Riddick leaned against the wall. He stared at the door for a moment before he shaking his head slowly.
"You know what's strange?" He said aloud, "I miss him too, even though he sold me out."
The girl was quiet. Just the sound of her quickening heart beat came to the ex-convict's ears. The next sound was the soft padding of feet to the door which swung open. Ziza was about as tall as his elbow and as gangly as he remembered Jack being at that age. Her curly hair was more tamed than the last time he saw her. Her wide eyes stared up at him and straight into his mercury colored eyes. His name came softly from her lips before she flung herself at him. Riddick caught her and hugged her shamelessly.
"You came back!"
Riddick chuckled despite himself, "Did you think I wouldn't?"
Ziza shook her head and smiled, hugging the big man tighter, "Never had a doubt."