Note: This chapter does not contain any M-rated content, but later chapters do. The T-rating is for some rough themes.
After she took out a wad of cash from her pocket, Francesca began to straighten and arrange the bills neatly in her hand. The alley was dark and cold as she walked, heading to her apartment. She was all too aware of the things that could be lurking in the dark corners; dangerous men with criminal minds, mad stray dogs, or… She didn't want to think about the things no one spoke about; the creatures they all knew existed but feared so mortally they didn't dare mention their existence.
Mysterious monsters aside, the chances of getting mugged were high. Nearly every day robberies were reported; the problem was that no one got caught. Few people hung around long enough to be traced. Galia was a trade planet, it was a place where merchants from across the system came to buy and sell their goods. It was an especially preferred planet for illegal traders; they could come and go at their leisure since there was virtually no security around the ports.
She folded the bills and put them back in her pocket, feeling better knowing that she wouldn't have to worry about rent and food for at least a month. It was the first real cash she had earned in a long time.
She turned a corner and what she saw made her wish she had walked some other way.
Five men were circling a sixth, and they all seemed to have some sort of weapon in their hands. One of the five attackers was laughing at the man in the middle of the circle. The laugh sounded malicious and evil to Francesca. She almost shivered, as thought it had been directed at her.
She noticed that the sixth man was quiet even as the other men talked and laughed, trying to anger him.
Suddenly there was movement and she covered her hands with her eyes, sure that they would butcher him.
When all the noise ceased, she finally had the courage to look up. Only one man was left standing. Francesca noticed that he had a knife in his hand, held poised by his side.
She began to walk gingerly towards him, wondering if he was one of the attackers. She recognized him as the man who had been in the middle of the threatening circle.
He stood rock still even as she approached. She noticed he was breathing a little heavily.
"Hey," she called out, "Are you alright?" Even as she said this she watched him begin to collapse. She ran and caught him before he hit the ground. "Hey…hey" she called out again as she tried to support him. Her small body was very a inadequate auxiliary for his bulk, but she managed to get him against a wall, settling him down as gently as she could.
There was a cut over his jaw line, though it didn't look nearly as serious as the one that ran horizontally on his side. Blood stained his shirt and his face contorted in pain. He gasped and his hand went instinctively to the deep cut. He growled loudly in pain, and for a moment all Francesca could do was stare at him.
She made up her mind quickly and kneeled beside him. She put her hands to his sides, careful not to touch his cut. "Come on, we need to get you out of here. I live nearby."
He nodded and held onto the wall for support. They walked like that until they had to cross the street, and his weight nearly crushed her before she finally reached the front steps of her apartment building. She helped him up the stairs, almost losing her grip on him before they got into her apartment.
She led him over to her couch, and he grunted in pain as more blood stained his shirt.
She searched frantically around for a first-aid box. She had trouble getting around because of the mess, as her feet kept getting tangled in clothes that belonged in the laundry basket. An infinite number of cans barred her away as she looked for the white box with the cross on top.
"Aha!" she explained when she finally found it.
He raised his head slightly, and she noticed he had a pair of goggles on.
"Turn off the lights," he instructed.
"But I won't be able to see--"
"Just do it," he barked.
"Okay, okay. It's your pain, not mine." she turned off the lights.
He took off his goggles and she let out a soft whistle when she saw his shined eyes.
"Impressive."
She fled to her kitchen, remembering that she had a small flashlight thrown around in one of the drawers. She found it and came back with it, feeling triumphant.
She went to his side, and lifted up his shirt, holding the small flashlight with her teeth.
He winced as she pressed a cloth soaked in iodine against the wound. His shirt was in her way so she tugged at it, signaling to him that it needed to go off.
"Seriously?"
She nodded and put her finger to his mouth, indicating that she wanted silence.
She cleaned the wound thoroughly and secured bandages against it. She ignored the nakedness of his chest as she leaned across it to inspect his jaw. He pressed his hand to his eyes as the flashlight got too close to them.
"This one doesn't look good either," she murmured and took another cloth, dabbed it with iodine and went on to clean the cut. "Much better," she smiled after she cleaned away the blood, discovering that the cut was a minor one.
She put a large band aid over it, and began to put things away; she put the flashlight in the first aid kit and put the box down on the floor, beside the couch.
After she was done, Francesca watched the man she had just tended to let himself sink into the couch. He was beginning to relax and it showed, physically. The muscles near his jaw were no longer visible, there was no protruding vein on his neck, and his previously rocky chest now looked as soft as a pillow.
"Beer?" she asked.
He nodded and she went back to the kitchen, producing the alcohol from the fridge. The coolness of the bottle felt refreshing against her skin. She handed him a bottle and he chugged half of it before she could even get a good gulp down.
"So, what happened back there?" she asked.
He was quiet for a while, until he eventually turned his head to look at her. His lazy eyes spoke volumes. He looked tired, almost defeated. "They caught me on a bad day."
"Did you kill them?"
He nodded.
"How did you--"
"Not important, they got me too."
She nodded as if she understood, thought she had plenty more questions.
"Do you have a name?"
"You can call me Riddick."
"What does the rest of the world call you?"
A sleek eyebrow shot gracefully upward. "Riddick."
"I'm Francesca." she hesitated before she spoke again, wondering if she was about to make the proposition of the insane woman. "You should stay here tonight, you're too hurt to go anywhere." She held out her hand. He looked at it, seemed to hesitate, then covered it with one of his own.
Francesca wondered why he didn't ask any questions.
She got up. "I'm going to go set up the guest room for you." When she reached the door, she turned around. "Look, I don't know anything about you, so it might seem weird that I'm doing all of this," she sighed. "You look like you need my help tonight, and since there's no one else who would do this…" she raised her hand and made a sweeping arc with it. "It doesn't really matter. You're not a serial killer, mass murderer or some sort of extremely dangerous criminal or something like that, right?" she said this almost as an afterthought, though it occurred to her that even if he was one of those three things he had no reason to tell it to her.
He shrugged, his eyes staying fixed on a spot on the opposite wall.
She emerged back into the living room after a few minutes. "I did my best."
He got up from the couch, attempting to get away. She put a palm up.
"We need food."
She went to the kitchen and motioned for him to follow her.
She opened her fridge and peered inside. She didn't find much, so they would have to do with what was available. She took out a carton of eggs, some tomatoes and whatever other vegetable she could find.
"Hope you like omelets."
His only response was to turn off the lights. She sighed and brought out a few candles she had stashed for emergencies. "I only keep these for blackouts." she showed him the candles. "Now you owe me big time."
He chuckled, then winced as pain surged from the cut.
"Careful," she said as she cracked a couple of eggs. "It will sting for a while. It was pretty deep. I guess they got you good."
"I guess they did," he said and leaned his head against the wall.
She yawned and stretched as she let the eggs cook. "Man, I'm beat."
"Tough day?"
"You could say that." she was careful here, hoping he didn't start inquiring about what she did for a living. It wasn't exactly advisable to tell a stranger that she was a dancer, and former hooker.
She put the plate full of steaming omelet in front of him, along with another one filled with something resembling a salad.
She didn't care if he liked it or not as she delved deep and ate everything on her plate, until there was nothing left. It was her first meal of the day.
When she finally looked up she saw that he was finished as well.
He didn't comment when she took his plate and placed it in the sink, along with his own.
"You don't talk much, do you?"
"Not my thing," he said and got up from the table and went to the door.
"The guestroom is the door right in front as you go into the hallway. The bathroom is the second left."
He nodded and left her to wash the dishes.
"Ungrateful bastard," she murmured under breath, unaware that he could still hear her.
The sounds of water running in the bathroom woke Francesca up much earlier than she was used to. She grunted and rolled over, landing on the floor.
"Morning sunshine," she bellowed when she entered the bathroom and found him under the shower.
All the lights were off, but some sunshine had managed to sneak itself in through a tiny window, which also served as the only kind of ventilation system she could afford. The dimness of the room, however, did not render her incapable of seeing all of him clearly. He didn't seem to mind that a woman he barely knew had her eyes glued on his naked, wet body.
Francesca shrugged when he didn't say anything and she did her business as if he wasn't there. By the time she began to brush her teeth he was already turning down the water.
"Towels are in there," she pointed to a cupboard to her left.
As he walked past her, perhaps a little too close to her, she caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, standing behind her, locking his eyes with hers. She liked the way the two of them looked in the reflection. She lowered her eyes before he could read her thoughts.
He took one of her towels and dried himself off. It took a lot of restraint on her part not to turn her head to look at him.
"Tell me something," he said, "do you always have strange men in your apartment?"
She shrugged, the way she had seen him do when she'd asked him if he was a serial killer. "You could say that."
"Do you always walk in on them like that?"
She shrugged again. "I only have one bathroom. Why, do you mind?"
"Not if you return the favor." She could see the corners of his mouth go up a little bit.
She chuckled and finished brushing her teeth. He didn't move.
"Not that this" she pointed with her finger at him, "is what I would consider a sight, but you owe me anyway. "
He raised his chin and looked at her through lidded eyes, as if what she'd said had been extremely interesting.
"Now shoo." she made sweeping motions with both her hands, showing him the door. "Go."
He crossed his arms over his chest, a motion which made him look more than a little intimidating and he left the bathroom. Frankly, Francesca was surprised. He didn't look like the type of guy who would let anyone tell him what to do.
She showered quicker than usual, not trusting him alone in her apartment.
She found him in the living room perusing through a magazine, not dressed in the clothes he had been in last night.
"Hope you don't mind, I found these in your room."
"Not at all," she said and tried to sound sarcastic. "Glad you helped yourself."
"They belong to your boyfriend?"
"Brother."
"What is he, a wrestling champion? These are a little loose." He demonstrated by tugging at the white shirt which should have been a tight fit.
"No, but I bet you are."
His laughter filled her room, and like everything about him, it was bordering on scary.
"Overweight." she murmured and indicated to a photo by the small table next to the couch. It was a picture of her and a man three times her size and a foot taller, standing in front of a big, neat house.
Riddick turned his head to look at it, his eyes lingering on the picture.
"How's your cut?" She noticed that he'd taken off the band-aid she had put on the small wound on his chin; it looked like it was healing.
He shrugged, still looking at the photograph.
She went over to him and lifted up his shirt. Despite the fact that the big wound looked like it had coagulated quite nicely, a small part of it bad broken.. She muttered a curse under her breath and fetched the first-aid kit. She bandaged it again and saw him frown. "It still needs to stay protected. And you need to take it easy, no elaborate moves."
"Nurse?"
She shook her head. "I like to read."
She closed the tin box and threw it back down on the floor. She got up and went to one of the windows and threw the curtains aside. She heard brief shuffling behind her, and he was by her side pulling the curtains closed. He had moved faster than anyone she knew who was his size.
She tried not to let the sudden panic that swelled up in her stomach show as she looked at him. He turned his eyes to hers, and her first instinct was to back up. Suddenly she was frightened of this man and she couldn't explain to herself why. She hadn't even heard him move, she hadn't heard his steps as he'd crossed the room to get to the window. That wasn't normal.
"So," she said, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. "Where do you live?"
"Not around here," he said and kept his eyes fixed on her as if he was still studying her face.
"Okay," she had a feeling she didn't want to ask too much.
"I'm leaving in a few days, my ship's getting fixed."
She nodded, wondering when she'd signed on to house him for a few days.
He left the living room, and came back with his dirty clothes. He tossed them in the garbage bin in the kitchen and she followed him there.
"Look," he said, taking out a few bills from his pocket. "Get some food in that fridge," he paused and looked around, then he put more bills on the table. "And a cleaning lady." He pocketed the rest of his money and soon enough Francesca heard the front door slam shut.
She let out a sigh of relief, surprised at how glad she felt to know that he left.